Page 66 of Charmless

I shuddered, overcome with visions of a violent confrontation between the two men I loved.

“I can reason with Mal if you let me speak to him first. Please, Horatio, let me help you.”

Horatio gazed down at me, and his stern expression wavered. “If I do agree to allow you to come, you will make no effort to warn Hawkridge. You will obey my orders, do exactly as I say, when I say it.”

I nodded vigorously.

The muscles in Horatio’s jaw tightened, a sign of his inward struggle. But at last, he sighed. “Very well.”

“Thank you.” I looked up at him, gratitude welling in my eyes. “You are a good man, Horatio Crushington.”

“No. What I am is a frapping fool,” he said. “Let’s go. Before I change my mind.”

Thirteen

The sun disappeared behind the clouds, the air heavy with the scent of oncoming rain. The overcast sky matched the bleakness of my mood as I trudged along beside Horatio. I was accustomed to covering the distance to the Bottoms on foot, yet I had thought Horatio would want to fetch his horse from the stables. But he feared if Mal spotted Loyal tied up outside the Hawk’s Nest, Mal would be likely to flee.

Horatio’s plan was to conceal all evidence of his presence. He had even brought along a hooded black cloak which he carried slung over his shoulder.

I could not refrain from pointing out, “That cloak will not prove much of a disguise.”

“It is not intended to be.” Horatio gestured toward the lowering sky. “I brought it in the event we are caught in a rainstorm.”

He showed far more foresight than I had. When I had seen the Hansons being dragged from their home by the Border Scutcheons, my one thought had been to find Horatio as quickly as possible. I had not paused for anything, even to fetch a shawl. Getting wet was the least of my worries.

However, we had not gone far, when I realized Horatio had not brought the cloak for himself. Commanding me to halt, he swirled the garment about my shoulders.

“No,” I protested. “My gown is old and faded, but your uniform could be ruined.”

“My uniform has survived far worse things than rain.”

I persisted in trying to remove the cloak, but his hand closed over mine to stop me.

“Leave it, Ella. You agreed to do as you are told, remember?” he said sternly.

I sighed and stood like an obedient child while he fastened the cloak about my neck. But I squirmed inwardly with shame and guilt. Despite how I had deceived him and brought all this trouble down upon his head, Horatio was still striving to protect me.

I mumbled my thanks as we resumed our trek. The cloak which would only have reached the top of Horatio’s boots hung to my heels. I had to hug the garment tightly about me to keep from treading upon the hem.

I hoped I had done right by telling Horatio where to find Mal, the only thing I could do to prevent disaster from overtaking all three of us. I still felt wretched about it, fearing I was betraying my dearest friend to a terrible fate.

I glanced up at Horatio but could glean no comfort from his rigid profile.

“If I persuade… ” I paused and amended, seeking to inject a more confident note into my voice. “WhenI persuade Mal to give back the orb, I suppose you will still feel obliged to arrest him.”

“Of course.”

I swallowed. “And send him to the King’s Royal Prison?”

“No. I would not send my worst enemy to that place if I could avoid it. But I do intend to incarcerate your friend in my gaol fora long stretch until I am convinced, he is ready to abandon his illegal activities and earn his bread as an honest apothecary.”

I breathed a deep sigh of relief, even though I suspected Mal enjoyed defying the king’s laws. If there was more pirate than princess in me, there was more of the outlaw than apothecary in Mal. I envisioned him locked up in the Midtown gaol, arms defiantly locked across his chest until his beard grew long and gray. It was still a better fate than being choked to death at the hands of the Royal Garrotter.

I expressed my gratitude to Horatio for his leniency, adding, “I hope that Mal will have enough sense to be grateful as well.”

“I don’t give a whit about his gratitude. I am not doing it for him.”

Horatio’s reply was curt, but my gaze flew to his face, hoping to find some lingering trace of his love for me. I could not read anything into his stony expression. It was probably too late to explain or excuse my part in all of this, but I had to try.