The Raven's Revenge (16 page)

She looked up at him. “An’ it may not matter, since we could be lost, and we may never find her. Or even London, no matter how grand a place it is.”

Jeremy took another small step toward her, raised his eyebrows and made a beckoning smile as if coaxing a stray animal. She half expected to see him stretch a hand forth with a choice bit of food on it.

“Let us rest, mistress. ’Twill seem different, no doubt, when our bellies are full.”

Katherine sniffled.

Jeremy reached into his satchel and pulled out a half-loaf of brown bread. “Here. I have what we need.”

In spite of the lint adhering to the crust, Katherine’s mouth watered, and her stomach growled. Hysterical laughter rose in her chest and came out a strange giggle.

Jeremy helped her up.

They found a spot to eat and rest near a grove of ash trees, just out of sight of the road. Katherine took off Nicholas’s cloak and spread it on the ground. Releasing her feet from the prison of her shoes, she tossed away the pebble and sank down beside Jeremy. She picked the fluff off the bread and took a bite. As she ate, a great lassitude stole over her. Robins chirped in the nearby trees. A caterpillar inched its way toward them across dew-laden weeds, its progress slow but purposeful, unaware of the obstacle they would present to its journey. Katherine wondered if their efforts were as futile as the bug’s.

“How far do you think we have come?” she asked.

Jeremy hazarded a glance in her direction. “’Tis hard to say. I should think at least eight miles, but less than twelve.” He flopped down on his back. Shielding his eyes from the rising sun, he added lightly, “Had we taken a horse, we’d be closer to London now.”

Katherine shrugged at his rebuke. “Or, being lost, we could also be further away.” She sighed. “And what of my father and our neighbor? Where do you think they are?”

“Far, far, from us, mistress. England is a very big country, and two people are very small. There is no reason to think they would find us after these many days.” Jeremy rolled to his side. “Ouch,” he rubbed his elbow. “What is this?”

Katherine had completely forgotten about the pocket on the inside of Nicholas’s cape. Jeremy eagerly spilled its contents onto the cloak. She breathed easier when she saw no sign of the Raven’s black cowl. She did not want to explain that now. Happily, the coins remained, which meant dinner could be bought when they reached a village or town.

Jeremy’s eyes widened when he saw the odd cylindrical device she’d first seen in the cottage. “Why, I think ’tis a spyglass!” He picked it up and put one end to his eye. Then turning it around, he peered through the other end. “I have always wanted look through one of these.” As he gazed through the strange object, his mouth curled into a smile.

Katherine followed the direction of his eye, but failed to see anything of interest, except perhaps the caterpillar she had noticed earlier. It had managed to find its way around them and still plodded onward.

“What does it do?” she asked.

“Look,” Jeremy held the spyglass up to her eye. “Close t’other.”

Katherine looked through the eyepiece and almost fell backward as the world rushed toward her. She pushed the instrument away. “It brings everything close. ’Tis dizzying.”

“What do you suppose he is doing with this?” Jeremy raised it again to one eye.

Katherine could well imagine the uses of such a devise for a highwayman, but she just shook her head.

Leaving Jeremy to play with the spyglass, she yawned and lay down. With her stomach appeased, weariness overcame her. Nicholas’s scent rose from the fine wool of his cloak and wrapped around her. She snuggled into the fabric and fell asleep.

* * *

“Damn the wench,” Nicholas muttered.
And damn me for being an imbecile
, he added silently. Last night when she’d stepped into the hallway, he’d lost control of whatever good sense he possessed. Why couldn’t he remember she was a missish Puritan and not one of the court flirts?

Nicholas glowered. If he had imagined just one month before, that he would be searching the countryside for a wayward Puritan heiress with the questionable help of his brandy-sick, but nevertheless faithful, retainer—and a cat—he would have thought it all a good joke. Yet today he failed to see the humor in it.

The situation was serious. He had to find her, and fast. With only the boy for protection, she would be easy plunder for any highwayman or ruffian she came across.

The sun had well passed its zenith when they turned into the courtyard at the
King’s Tavern
in Marlborough, discouraged and tired after hours of fruitless searching. Nicholas threw his reins to the hostler as he dismounted, then untied the basket containing Montford, who protested with loud meows.

Henry swung from his horse. He landed unsteadily and winced. Raising shaking hands, he massaged his temples. “Nicky,” he spoke in almost a groan. “No matter what I say or do, if ye care for me at all, do not let me take even a nip of brandy ever again.”

Nicholas scowled. “I offered to leave you behind while I searched for the girl.”

Henry pulled himself to his full height. “An’ you remember what happened last time ye left me behind?” He shook his head, and grimaced from the motion. “Nah. I could not let ye go on your own.”

“So it’s to protect me that you have come along, my mighty friend? I do feel much safer.”

“Someone ought to protect ye from yerself, Nicky.”

Nicholas gritted his teeth and strode to the tavern, leaving the older man to follow. On top of all else, he could now look forward to a lecture from Henry!

A portly innkeeper greeted him with deference. Nicholas waved aside use of a private room and sat down at a solid oak table.

All morning they had traversed narrow country lanes and major highways to the east of Devizes. If Nicholas had been able to leave Henry behind he’d have made better progress. But without knowing the direction Katherine and the boy had taken, he had no assurance that his search would lead him back to the inn. So Henry had, of necessity, come. And Nicholas had, of necessity, slowed the pace so the older man could keep up. He had not wanted to stop to eat now, but he could see his old friend needed sustenance and rest.

Henry fastened a bloodshot eye on him. “I am not truly settled in me own mind about Mistress Welles,” he began. “We have not spoke on it, and ’tis not for me to express myself…” He trailed off as the potboy brought them two bowls of stew and a warm loaf of bread.

The innkeeper followed behind with two tankards, ale for Henry, and cider for Nicholas, who put a few bits of meat into the wicker basket, then set it on the ground.

“I know’d ye since ye was born. Ye’ve a good heart beatin’ in your chest.” Henry paused to take a draught of his ale. “So I cannot understand what you are doing with the woman.”

“’Tis very simple. She’s the heiress to my estate.”

Henry closed his eyes and rubbed at his temples. “I know’d I should not have gone along with you playing at the Raven. I thought one or two such pranks would be a harmless diversion, and it should have been, until ye went off without me.” He opened his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “But this is different. Kidnapping heiresses is a capital offense here in England. ’Tis not a lawless country like many ye have been to. And ’twill not serve your purpose with the King.”

Nicholas put on his most innocent face. “Kidnap? I simply accompany her to London.”

Henry’s eyebrows rose to a point over his nose. “Ye can say that to yourself, and the magistrate when he asks you, but do not say that to me. ’Tis plain she would not have left her home had it not been for ye. And if anything happens to her or the boy, ’twill be yer fault.”

“Which is why I mean to find them and keep them from harm,” said Nicholas.

“But once found, will ye be taking them back where they belong?”

Nicholas grimaced. “Katherine does not ‘belong’ at Ashfield. Her father is forcing her into a marriage she does not want. And in truth I cannot blame her.”

Henry shook his head and burped. “Finch is a bad’un, to be sure. A crueler lad I’ve never met, and always wanting what is not his. But, Nicky, ’tis not your problem.”

A commotion at the doorway announced the arrival of newcomers. Nicholas looked up as three plumed cavaliers spilled into the room. He’d last seen them at court and recognized them immediately. Hugh Chiverton, the popinjay of the group, gave voluble instructions to the innkeeper, punctuating each sentence with a tap of his cane. Peter Langley stood beside him brushing the sleeves of his scarlet brocade waistcoat, his usual bored expression topped by a white periwig. The last of the three, George Talbot, slouched behind them, yawning into the ruffle of his shirtsleeve.

Nicholas looked down at his own attire. Rumpled from sleep, his shirt hung in disarray. He’d been in such a hurry to be off this morning, he’d not laced his doublet or put on a cravat. He certainly presented a different vision from when they’d last seen him at court.

“Ashton!”

Chiverton spied him before the others. Nicholas put on a smile as the three made their way to his table. Though impatient to find Katherine, he was none-the-less aware of the opportunity they provided to deliver him from Henry’s sermon. He greeted them warmly and agreed to join them in a private room, leaving Henry to finish his meal alone. Perhaps the older man could rest a few moments before they were on the road again.

The innkeeper brought them to a stuffy chamber dominated by a large table. The portly proprietor scurried about arranging benches and stools and throwing open the wooden shutters.

Talbot plopped down in a chair and was asleep in moments.

Chiverton spoke first. “What are you doing in this fine town? Could it be that you’ve received word of Talbot’s grand fête and, like us, are on your way to his estate?”

Nicholas must have looked at him blankly because he continued, “No. I ‘spose not. Ah well. I hear there will be sport of all kinds there.” He cocked a wicked eyebrow. “Talbot’s invited us all to celebrate the completion of his new waterworks.”

“He’s quite excited to unveil his new fountain.” Langley spoke with his usual deliberate elocution. Waving in the direction of the sleeping man he added, “I’m sure if he could rouse himself he’d give you a personal invitation.”

Chiverton laughed. “I understand our liege will be arriving tonight. Just a brief stop on his way to Bath. The Queen has gone for a cure,” he added as an aside while fingering his laced cravat. “With the entertainment we have planned, I’ve no doubt our lusty King hisself will have need of Bath’s restorative waters when he joins the Queen.”

The landlord bustled in, followed by the potboy, both bearing trays of food and drink. They spread the contents on the table with great formality, but Talbot’s loud snoring ruined the fine ceremony.

“What news from court?” Nicholas asked when they’d left.

Chiverton answered. “The Queen has been ill, delirious in fact. Rumor has it she believed herself to have given birth. Charles, in a touching display of husbandly affection, comforted her by telling her she had delivered two fine sons and a daughter. But ’twas a lie.” He took a draught of his ale. “’Tis a pity that the king can beget bastards but not heirs.”

Langley speared a piece of cheese with his knife, and raised it to his mouth. Fixing an eye on Nicholas he said, “Speaking of the King, I understand Charles is none too pleased with you.”

“Oh?”

“He mentioned on at least one occasion his displeasure that”—Langley’s voice lowered several notes—“his dear friend Nicholas had quit London without so much as a by your leave.”

Nicholas cursed silently. He had waited two long months after petitioning the King for the return of his birthright, but Charles, in his characteristic fashion, had been in no hurry to adjudicate the matter. Nor was Nicholas the only noble to petition the King after returning to England to discover his lands belonged to someone else.

Nicholas did not like to wait. So, he’d left the court, only meaning to be gone a few days, just long enough to see Ashfield and discover if it held up to his childhood memories. One thing had lead to another, and now he would have to make it right with the King. He would apologize for his absence and hope no one ever connected the short career of a highwayman named the Raven with Nicholas, the Earl of Ashton. And why would they? No one knew but Henry and Katherine.

Katherine
.

Nicholas scowled. He would feel better if she were safe with him. It was time to retrieve Henry and take to the road while there were several hours of good daylight left. And if they did not find her by sundown, they would keep hunting through the night.

Nicholas came out of his thoughts to find himself the subject of discussion. Chiverton spoke to Langley. “Well I think his distraction, along with his state of dishevelment, points to the strong possibility that a new light-o’-love awaits him down the hall.”

Nicholas made a shrug that neither confirmed nor denied his friend’s suppositions. “As you say,” he smiled and rose. “I must be off.”

“Well, join us if you can. You might wish to take advantage of this informal occasion to put your face before Charles,” said Chiverton. “I expect the night’s entertainment will have a mollifying effect on his heart, and he will be all the readier to forgive you.”

Langley grinned. “And you could always bring your latest light-skirt with you.”

Nicholas restrained the urge to wipe the look off Langley’s face with a well-aimed blow. Without saying whether he would come to the fête, he left the men and rejoined Henry in the common room, impatient to be gone from this place.

* * *

The nightmare played out again, with Katherine as powerless to wake, as she had been powerless to stop the accident when it happened. Frozen in horror, she watched the tragedy unfold with the alarm and dread of someone who knows what is to come.

Lazy clouds floated in a bright blue sky. Birds chirped in the trees. Edward rode the horse he’d just received for his fifteenth birthday.

Her heart swelled at the sight of him, so dashing.