No reply came to that. They stood there not speaking while the feet around the corner stopped landing and the voices muted. They were still facing each other in silence when horse hooves began pounding the ground and the mail coach rolled away.
With Adam’s baggage still tied to its back.
Other wheels rolled, this time from behind the inn. A wagon came into view, with a woman wearing a large, deep-rimmed bonnet and heavy garnet mantle holding the reins. She let the ribbons drop, then climbed into the back.
“Get in.” The man waved the pistol in her direction.
“Are you abducting me?”
“I said get in.”
Adam walked around the wagon and climbed in. The horse stood at attention. A very nice horse, from the looks of it. Deep chestnut, with good lines. Maybe six years old. Too fine to be dragging this wagon.
Some bales of hay lined the edges of the open space of the wagon. The woman gestured for him to sit. Then she accepted the pistol from the man, who climbed to the seat and took up the reins. She sat on another bale, facing Adam, the pistol firmly grasped in her hands.
“I know how to use it,” she said.
Her voice riveted his attention. Low, throaty, melodious, it was the voice of a mature woman but one still young. He peered at her through the drips of rain separating them, those coming off his hat and her bonnet, and all the ones between. He saw a face as young as her voice sounded. Not a girl, but not middle years yet either. Maybe twenty-five or thereabouts, he guessed.
Her hair, barely visible deep inside that bonnet, looked to be dark, and her eyes showed an arresting deep brown color. Her complexion appeared fresh and lovely and exceedingly pale in a good way, not pallid and unhealthy.
The wagon began moving. He waited to see if anyone was out in the yard. If so, he intended to call out for help and risk that pistol going off. She said she knew how to use it, but very few women really did.
Unfortunately, the rain had sent everyone to shelter, even the grooms and inn’s servants. He could see some faces at the inn’s windows as they rolled onto the road.
“I don’t know what this is about,” he said, loudly enough for the man to hear, too. “However, you are committing a serious crime.”
No reply came.
“If you hope to ransom me, it won’t work. No one will pay. You will be stuck with my keep to no purpose.”
Nothing.
“I will be missed. My baggage is still on that coach. When it arrives and my property is there, but I am not, a search will be made.”
That at least caused the woman to blink. “They will decide you slipped and fell into the stream behind the inn and the rain washed your body down a ways.”
“You have a spirited imagination. They will think nothing of the sort. “
“It is the most logical explanation, and being lazy they will accept it. It will be weeks before they suspect something else might have happened. In the meantime, with Christmas soon, no one is going to spend much time looking for a stranger.”
“I am not entirely a stranger to these parts.”
“We know who you are.”
Did they now? “If you know who I am, then you know that you risk your necks with this rash act. I am a peer and the Home Office will involve itself if I disappear. My cousin is also a peer and he will not look well on you once you are discovered.”
“We know the power of the Marquess of Haverdale. His view of us will not matter by the time he learns of this.”
So he would learn of it, eventually. At least they didn’t intend to shoot him and bury him in a shallow grave. He had not led the best of lives, but even he did not deserve that.
The rain fell harder. Adam gave up trying to fight the results. He relaxed on the bales and let the weather do its worst. He speculated on what addlebrained scheme these two had concocted.
“Keep it dry, Caro,” the young man said over his shoulder.
The woman draped her mantle over the pistol and tucked her bared hands underneath. Adam noticed how red and raw they appeared.
“You are both going to hang. How sad. It is a disgusting way to die. Have you ever seen it? I’ll beg them to transport you instead, but my cousin will insist you hang and a marquess normally gets what he wants.”
