The Highwayman's Daughter (14 page)

A smile tugged the corners of her mouth and Jack had a sudden urge to lean over and kiss it, but he resisted the temptation. Cora was listening, not running down the alleyways of Hounslow or through the woods, and he didn’t want to lose her. Nor did he wish to see her in danger again, as she had been when she tripped in front of the coach. The mere thought of it still gave him nightmares.

‘There’s no time like the present,’ he said with a shrug.

‘Have you taken leave of your senses? Are we to sneak in the back door like thieves?’ Cora gave a snort of laughter.

‘Well, we may have to do a little sneaking,’ Jack conceded with a grin. ‘I expect everyone will be asleep by now, but I’m very happy to take you through the front door if using a more convenient side door offends your sensibilities.’ He lifted his eyebrow.

‘My sensibilities are just fine,’ Cora harrumphed, ‘but thank you all the same for that consideration. It matters not to me which door we use. I still think this it quite ridiculous.’

‘Not so.’ Jack smiled and tossed her a bundle from the seat beside him. ‘Which brings me to this. I figured you’d be in breeches tonight, so I brought you a dress. On the outside chance that someone should come upon us while we are
sneaking
, I’d rather not be mistaken for a sodomite. You will admit I think of everything.’

She smiled saucily. ‘Why anyone should think you were engaged in any kind of intimate pursuit, I can’t imagine.’

‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ he replied and held her gaze until she looked away with an unmistakable blush in her cheeks. He was going to enjoy this night, he was sure of it.

Cora unfolded the bundle without further protest. She had to go along with whatever he suggested if she was to have a chance of saving her life and being able to provide for Ned, but so far Lord Halliford had stuck by what he’d said, and she saw no reason to mistrust him. Inside was a sumptuous gown of sunflower-yellow taffeta. Although it was plain, the torso was tightly fitted with a low décolletage and a finely pleated back. The sleeves were elbow length with ruched frills of matching silk, and the bundle also included a set of stays with narrow blue ribbons to cover the seams. She ran her hand over the exquisite material. Never had she held anything quite so fine, except for the stolen waistcoat, and she tried not to think about that right now. Then for the second time her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

‘Not everything,’ she said in a low voice.

‘What?’ Jack leaned over and examined the bundle of clothes. ‘I must apologise if I have forgotten some intimate garments, but you can wear the dress over your breeches, can you not?’

‘No, it’s all here, sir. But if I dress like this and we sneak into your home, I could be mistaken for your mistress.’

‘You’ve used that word before, when you offered yourself to me at the coaching inn, and I declined politely. You do not have to offer yourself again.’

‘I did not offer myself to you!’ Cora argued.

‘Well, you could’ve fooled me.’ Jack shrugged.

‘I’d rather be taken for a thief than a whore.’

‘A whore?’ Jack said archly. ‘This dress belonged to my mother.’

‘I’m sorry, I meant no offence, but will she not miss it?’ With regret Cora put the dress on the seat beside her.

Jack reached over and handed it back to her. ‘Trust me, she never wears it, and the cut is too grown-up for my cousin Alethea.’

Alethea. That was the inscription on the fob watch, and she felt absurdly delighted by the revelation that Alethea was his cousin, not his betrothed.

‘Please, put the dress on for me,’ Jack said. ‘I would like to see you wear it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I believe it will suit you.’

Cora eyed him suspiciously, but his gaze was nothing but frank and she relaxed a little. ‘I can’t get changed in the carriage. It lurches too much and I’d like a little privacy.’

She tossed her hair, hoping to come across as dignified, although she suspected she sounded rather churlish. What girl would say no to the joy of wearing a garment like that?

‘You’re not planning to run off again, are you?’

‘On foot? Without my pistols?’

‘No, I suppose not,’ Jack conceded. He knocked on the roof and gave Benning orders to stop the carriage at the first convenient place. Soon, they came to a halt and Jack stepped outside, followed by Cora. Jack told Benning to wait, and then led the way under the cover of the large oak trees to a secluded spot.

‘Where are we?’ Cora asked.

‘On the outskirts of my father’s estate. I felt it was best to approach the house from the east. This way we’ll come upon the house from the side, away from the view from the main windows.’

‘That’s fine with me,’ said Cora, although inside she felt a heavy lump settle in her chest. Jack had said that they would have to do some sneaking. It made sense: she was wanted as a highwaywoman, and even if he wasn’t going to hand her over to the authorities, someone else might. But what if it was also because he was ashamed of her? The thought vexed her, but she couldn’t change the reality of their situation: he was a nobleman and she was a labourer, despite all his presumptions about her blood line.

When they stopped, she got out to change under the cover of a particularly large oak tree. She could have changed in the carriage, but donning garments like these required space. Quickly she shrugged out of her coat.

‘Turn around,’ she said. ‘I won’t have you peeking.’

Jack lifted his hat and bowed low. ‘But you may require assistance, my lady. Besides, I won’t be able to see anything in the dark.’

She aimed a kick at him and snorted when her stockinged foot connected with his shin.

‘Ow! You little minx! That hurt.’

‘Good. Now turn around.’

Grumbling, he did as she asked, and Cora quickly took off her breeches, shirt and stockings. Jack had indeed thought of everything, including a fine cotton shift, but Cora didn’t bother with it, preferring instead to keep her linen shift on. She didn’t trust him not to look – had it been Jack changing in front of her, she would have given in to temptation and sneaked a peek.

She had no trouble donning the petticoat and the silk stockings, but when it came to fastening the stays, she ran into problems. They were designed to be done up at the back with the assistance of a maid – it was not a garment a person could manage single-handedly.

‘Jack,’ she called. In the forest he’d introduced himself thus, and she’d looked at the inscribed watch so many times since that she had come to think of him as Jack in her mind. Even so, she couldn’t suppress a sense of awkwardness from using his given name for the first time.

Startled, he turned around. ‘How do you know my name?’

‘You volunteered it when you chanced upon me in the forest. And from your watch,’ she added. Her cheeks flamed.

‘Mm, yes, so I did. As for the watch, I wouldn’t mind it back some time.’

Cora tossed her head. ‘I’ll think about it. In the meantime, could you lace me up?’

‘It’ll be my pleasure, madam,’ he replied, a little too eagerly, she thought.

She felt his hands on her back, brushing gently against the skin on her neck as he began tightening the laces from the top, and with each gentle tug at the ribbons her breathing became increasingly laboured.

Every time Jack pulled and pushed, she felt his soft breath on the back of her neck, a warm, feather-light caress in the cool evening air. She closed her eyes and gave in to the exquisite sensation. Something stirred in her belly and her groin, and her cheeks flamed hotter than ever before. Just as well he couldn’t see her expression in the dark.

‘There, you’re done,’ he said.

He reached out and touched one of her black curls, which had broken free of her ribbon, tying it back up. A delicious and excruciating shiver ran down her back. She felt his hands on her hips without him touching her, felt the length of his body pressing against hers although there was a hands-breadth of air between them. A stifled moan escaped her lips. She wanted him so much.

‘Oh, Cora,’ he sighed, and she felt his breath on her neck. ‘I want you too, but this isn’t the time.’

She rounded on him, furious with herself that her thoughts had been so obvious. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. Don’t you go taking liberties, else I’ll injure your other leg!’

Holding up his hands, he laughed. ‘
Sir
is it, now? What happened to
Jack
? Peace. Just put on the gown, if you please.’

She crossed her arms hoping that her belligerence would hide how she truly felt. ‘I don’t want to play this game anymore.’

‘All I’m asking is that you put on the dress,’ he said and held it out to her. ‘I would dearly like to see you wear it.’

‘Oh, if I must!’ She snatched it off him and put it on.

She’d never worn a dress like this before, and despite the layers of fabric, she felt suddenly exposed.

But it wasn’t just this vulnerability that gave her a thrill of anticipation. Perhaps if she could look like a lady, that would be one less obstacle between them.

Slivers of moonlight spilled through the foliage of the oak tree, but not enough to see properly, and Jack pulled her out from under the branches and back towards the coach. She felt his eyes on her and she lifted her head to brazen it out. Many times she’d held up a coach at gun point, and she would not let herself be cowed by Jack.

His gaze was on her face, not running lewdly over her body as she had expected, and she found it impossible to look away. Her heart thudded audibly in her chest, or so it seemed; her lips parted as if of their own accord, and she was compelled to take a step towards him.

Jack took her hands in his. ‘My God, you are beautiful,’ he said with a catch in his throat.

Cora felt as if the world slid away and there was only Jack, with his sparkling eyes, his lips against her fingertips. Their bodies were nearly touching – had she taken that final step, or had he? His hand caressed her cheek, and he whispered unintelligible words that made perfect sense, and she knew at that moment that if she lived to be a hundred no other man could ever produce such longing in her.

She slipped her arms around his neck and stepped into his embrace, but the sound of the groom clearing his throat reminded her of where they were, and they flew apart. Jack’s expression darkened, and for a moment Cora thought he might rebuke the man, but then he shrugged and smiled.

‘Benning has quite rightly reminded us of our purpose and the lateness of the hour,’ he said, in a slightly exasperated tone at the interruption. ‘Would that we had more time, Cora, but perhaps another day.’ He held out his arm to her. ‘Your carriage awaits, my lady.’

Cora forced herself to smile. It had been nothing but a fantasy and now the spell was broken. Jack was a lord and she was a lowly labourer on the wrong side of the law.

The drive didn’t last long. Benning stopped the carriage under cover of a large red beech tree and Jack helped Cora down. She had lived in the area for a decade and had seen Lampton Hall a couple of times, but never in moonlight. The four-storey sandstone mansion sat in a clearing of the woods with a circular gravelled drive, a marble fountain in the centre and wide stone steps leading up to the door. It was a modest residence for an earl, or so she’d heard, but the grandeur of the place made Cora feel small and insignificant.

Jack held out his hand. Cora hesitated a little, but then took it, unable to stop herself from touching him, if only their hands. It was warm and dry, and his strong fingers gripped hers reassuringly. Following Jack round to the side of the house, Cora understood why they had stopped the carriage at a distance; taking the carriage up the gravelled drive would make too much noise and render secrecy impossible. Despite her curiosity, she was concerned that their venture was nothing but a game for Jack. It was the prerogative of the rich to indulge in such jocularity, but Cora was acutely aware that if were they caught, it would be her reputation that would be ruined, not Jack’s. But after all the revelations about her parenthood, especially from her father, she just wanted to understand, and it gave her an opportunity to spend more time with Jack. She tried not to think about what Ned would have to say about it.

As she followed Jack down a few steps at the side of the house and in through a servants’ door, excitement stole over her and a shiver ran up her spine. They entered a long wide passage and doorways revealed the purpose of the rooms they passed: kitchen, scullery, laundry room, a dining area, boot room and pantry.

A corridor ran down either side of the main passage and Jack held a finger to his lips. It wasn’t until they reached a curving staircase that he whispered, ‘Cook’s and the housekeeper’s private quarters. On the other side, the butler’s.’

‘Where do the other servants sleep?’ Cora asked quietly.

‘Upstairs in the attics. Come.’ Jack put his hand on the small of her back and led her up the gloomy stairwell.

Heat snaked through her despite her layers of clothing, and she imagined Jack’s hand caressing her naked skin. Then she reminded herself of everything that stood between them – men like Jack might bed women like her, but they never married them. Although he was acting the perfect gentleman with her now, this was their reality. Disappointment washed over her. Even so, she was glad of the support. The steps were precipitous with her unaccustomed skirts and she clung on to him.

They emerged through a concealed door and found themselves at the end of a large gallery with bare floorboards. Jack let go of her hand and lit a three-armed candelabra. Cora started as something growled nearby, but when her eyes became accustomed to the light, she noticed two large spaniels staring at her, the smaller of the two with its fangs bared. Jack’s dogs again.

‘Lady, Duke, come and say hello to Cora.’ Jack clapped on the side of his leg and the dogs ran up to him, tails wagging. He took Cora’s hand again but this time held it out for the dogs to sniff. The larger of the two dogs accepted her immediately as a friend, but the smaller dog eyed her warily.

‘It’s all right, Lady. Cora’s my friend.’ Jack sat down on his haunches and ruffled Lady’s ears. ‘They’re good hunting dogs,’ he said, ‘although I think Lady fancies herself more as a guard dog.’

‘I’m gathering that.’ Cora smiled. He had taken her hand again, as if it was natural for him to do so, and had called her a friend. The consideration touched her, but it still didn’t change the fact that men like Jack did not marry women like her. ‘Just as well they didn’t alert the whole house to our presence.’

Jack shrugged. ‘Why should they? I live here.’

So he did; another reminder of their different circumstances. Any intimacy between them would be as far away from the marital bed as you could possibly get, should Jack feel inclined to take her up on the offer she had made at the coaching inn.

Oh, what had possessed her to make it in the first place? Desperation, was the answer. She wanted the same kind of love and equality she’d witnessed between Ned and Sarah, not to be someone’s mistress and always at a disadvantage.

And because of her crimes there was the threat of the gallows hanging over her head. When he had yanked her inside the carriage, she had thought it the beginning of the end. Even though he’d reassured her he had no intention of handing her to the magistrate it wouldn’t stop anyone else, should her secret become known. She shivered and rubbed her arms with her hands.

‘Are you cold?’ asked Jack.

‘I’m well enough. No need to concern yourself.’

Jack placed the candelabra on the floor, took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. ‘Forgive me,’ he said. ‘The gallery never really warms up, even in summer. I’m so used to it that it didn’t occur to me how cold it must feel to a lady without a shawl.’