Page 46 of Dangerous Illusions (Dangerous #1)

T HE CARRIAGE SLOWED RAPIDLY , and Daintry heard the driver shouting at the horses to “Whoa.” Looking out the window, she saw several masked horsemen approaching, pistols drawn.

“Highwaymen!” she exclaimed.

“Villains,” Lady Ophelia said grimly. “Dash, I must take off my gloves!”

Daintry, startled nearly as much by these words as by the approaching highwaymen, turned sharply to see that Lady Ophelia was struggling to tug a pistol from her large reticule.

The old lady snapped, “Don’t sit gaping, child.

Your father never thought it right to mount proper holsters in his carriages, on account of you girls and then Charlotte, but no sensible person travels the moors these days without a weapon at hand.

We have just been fortunate enough never to need this one before. ”

Daintry stared. “But do you know how to use it, ma’am?”

“Certainly. Papa taught me. Like this.” She put down her window and a deafening shot rang out. Daintry looked out again just as one of the villains yelled and clapped a hand to his shoulder. “Got him,” Lady Ophelia said with satisfaction.

“Goodness, ma’am, that was an excellent shot!”

“Would have been if I’d been aiming at him,” the old lady said. “Dash, the others are still coming! I believe this thing fires twice. Let us see if it will.”

It did. “That does for them,” she announced happily, banging with the butt of the pistol on the forewall of the coach. “Drive on, Cotter, drive on! I hope those men are not greater nincompoops than I think, and have sense enough not to follow.”

But the men had retired, evidently believing themselves defeated, and the rest of the trip was without incident. At Tuscombe, the earl chose to make light of the matter.

“Disgruntled miners, no doubt, looking for easy pickings,” he said when they told him what had happened.

“Lots of that sort of nonsense going on hereabouts, what with the bread shortages and so many of the mines closing down. But upon my word, Ophelia, it’s lucky you didn’t blow your fool head off with that damned popgun.

If you must go gallivanting over the countryside, take care that Cotter and your footmen are armed from now on. ”

Thus it was that the first few times Daintry took Charley to visit Melissa, they went by carriage, making the journey over and back a full day’s business, but though they heard of other incidents occurring elsewhere, they saw not the least hint of danger to themselves and soon began riding the cliff path instead, which made the journey much shorter.

Daintry was determined to make her presence felt at Seacourt Head, and Susan’s delight in the frequent visits was obvious, making her certain that they forced Seacourt to keep his promise to control his temper.

Lady Catherine Chauncey was still with them and clearly had no plan to depart until after Christmas.

Her cousins at St. Ives, she said, had gone to visit friends in Devonshire, and she had no notion when they meant to return.

Daintry heard nothing from Deverill, nor did she see him, although it had become her habit to ride on the moor any early morning that it was not fogbound.

By mid-December, with an increasing hint of snow in the air, such mornings became rare, but she did not want to leave matters as they were, because she was still determined to end the feud between the two families and knew she could scarcely make any progress toward that end if she remained at outs with Deverill.

She thought about writing to him again, but although she sat down to do so several times, she could not bring herself to send the letters.

Now that she knew he was simply a traditional male with traditional values and attitudes about female behavior, she was certain he would think less of her if she committed the social solecism of writing to a man not only unrelated to her but whose family was at outs with her own.

Moreover, each time she picked up her pen, the words flowed from its nib as if she wrote to an intimate friend, and since she was well aware that she wrote to the mysterious stranger she had concocted in her imagination and not to the real Deverill at all, she was certain that to send any such letter would be utter folly.

Thus, when she did meet him one fine afternoon, she instantly recalled letters written with an intimacy that had no place in their real relationship.

Moreover, she and Charley were not alone, for Davina, home from her most recent house party and forced to remain for a few days before attending another, had chosen to accompany them. It was she who first saw Deverill.

“There is someone riding yonder,” she cried as they galloped together toward Dozmary Pool, that ancient haunt of King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table. “Perhaps it’s the ghost of Sir Bedivere, riding to throw the sword Excalibur into the pool.”

Daintry, seeing the rider and recognizing his form at once but determined to give Davina no cause for teasing or comment, said lightly as she slowed Cloud, “More likely it is the ghost of that wicked fellow who was forced to empty the pool with a perforated limpet shell to atone for his sins.”

Charley, hearing them, laughed. “It is Lord Deverill, Mama, on Shadow. A most magnificent animal!”

“Yes,” Davina said, her eyes twinkling as she exchanged a look with Daintry, “he certainly is.”

Daintry said nothing, drawing rein and pretending to keep her interest focused on the dark and lonely lake that for centuries had fascinated local inhabitants and visitors alike.

Though its shores were said to have been inhabited before any other inland area of Cornwall, the place had been desolate for years, peopled only by ghosts and legends.

“Hard to imagine now that it was once thought to be bottomless,” she said casually.

But the others were paying her no heed. Charley had waved to Deverill, who was riding straight toward them, and Davina’s interest was clearly riveted upon the magnificent figure he made.

He was with them in moments, greeting them politely, then saying, “And where are your grooms today, ladies?”

Charley said, “Oh, we didn’t want them. Mama said we should bring them, but Aunt Daintry said we needn’t. What can they do that we cannot do ourselves?”

Deverill was looking at Daintry, and she felt telltale warmth enter her cheeks.

Having so frequently imagined his presence and herself making peace with him, she discovered now that he was with her that she could think of nothing to say.

She wished her body were not so aware of his presence.

She wanted to glare at him, to let him know she was still angry with him for refusing to help Susan, but she could not even seem to look at him.

Perversely, it occurred to her just then that regardless of what had happened at the Assize Court in Launceston, he had stood beside her to face Jervaulx, and for the first time she wondered if she had been unreasonable to resent the fact that he had not then danced to the tune of her choosing.

Now, confronting him, she felt like a schoolgirl, and a shy one, which she had never been even at the age of twelve or thirteen.

He said, seemingly in response to Charley, though Daintry knew he was still looking at her, “My dear child, this part of the moor is not safe for females traveling alone. The three of you ought to know better than to come so far without escort.”

Was that why he had ridden here, Daintry wondered, because he had not expected her to do so? Had he hoped to avoid just such an encounter as this one?

Davina said lightly, “We did not mean to come so far, sir, I assure you, but these two just seem to forget where they are once they throw themselves atop a horse, and whoever is with them either rides along or is left behind. Not that anyone could blame them on such a beautiful day. We seldom see so much sun at this time of year in Cornwall, you know.”

Collecting her wits, Daintry said in what she hoped was as light a tone as Davina’s, “It can be nothing to you what we do, sir. My father did not forbid our coming here.”

“The miners are restive,” he said, his voice still even but with a note in it that reminded her suddenly of how quickly his temper could rise.

“Even I have been fired upon twice, for there is widespread discontent, which no doubt will continue until such time as they can more easily feed and clothe their families.”

Nodding wisely, Charley said, “That is just what Grandpapa said, sir, when Aunt Daintry and Aunt Ophelia were shot at one time, coming home from Seacourt Head.”

Daintry glanced at him then and the look on his face sent a shiver racing up her spine.

Certain that it would be wise to divert him before he could respond to Charley’s naive revelation, she blurted out the first thing that came into her head.

“Do you know the legend of Excalibur, Deverill? When we first caught sight of you, Davina thought you might be the ghost of Sir Bedivere riding away after the battle with Mordred, after he had thrown the sword into Dozmary Pool.”

His hard expression did not alter. “Bedivere at least understood obedience and sensible behavior. Who fired at you?”

“Why, we presume now that they were some of those miners you mentioned, although we did not see them closely enough to identify them. At the time, we thought they were highwaymen.”

“Since you are unharmed, I suppose your people were armed.”