Page 17 of Escape of the Highwayman (Escape #3)

T o Jon’s relief, his mishap on the ladder did not seem to have caused any major relapse.

In fact, he felt better this morning than he had since coming home from Spain.

With his mind clear at last of pointless anger, fever, and even much of the pain he had grown used to, the familiar restlessness was coming back.

Partly, of course, that was to do with Cavalo’s presence so close by. He felt ridiculously pleased by the horse’s friendship, and his gratitude to Chloe knew no bounds for yet another good turn.

As he paced the loft, his energy and his strength felt boundless. Had it not been for the danger to Chloe, he would have risked the ladder again, just to be outside, to stretch his legs, to feel the speed of Cavalo beneath him...

There could still be joy in life without Chloe. Maybe one day, if he could make all this right again, they might meet again properly.

Except he would never be right, never be whole, never be the man who deserved her. Even if his behaviour became perfect—ha!—the intimacy of marriage would reveal his mutilated leg. He could not bear her disgust. He could not bear her hiding her disgust...

And where the devil had the intimacy of marriage come from? He had known her only days, and for most of those, he had been incoherent. But he liked the way she looked at him now. He liked it too much and could not bear to see it change.

The sounds of voices below drove him to the far corner of the loft.

There were visitors at the house—he had heard the carriage wheels and the chatter of the grooms with the visiting coachman as they looked after the horses.

Jon wondered if it was the unspeakable Black who aspired to Chloe’s hand, or perhaps to her friend Laura Dunwoody’s, as if he was choosing a horse or a set of cufflinks.

What kind of poor alternative would I be?

Squashing the bitterness, he concentrated again on Cavalo, on escape. Maybe a short exile in Scotland would be enough and then he could go home. Surely anything was possible now.

Including an offer of marriage for Chloe that she felt obliged to accept for the sake of her family.

When probably all the family needed was to tighten its collective belt and improve its land and farming methods.

He glowered at the imaginary viscount in his mind, and at the faceless, encroaching Black whom he wanted to run through with his sword just for daring to lift his eyes to her.

He knew the rushing footsteps were hers, even before she entered the stable and clambered up the ladder, talking to Molly and the kittens as she came. She seemed to spill into the loft and, abandoning the cats immediately, came straight toward him. Her eyes positively shone with excitement.

“You’ll never guess, Jon, your brother is here!”

“ What? ” His stick wobbled and he hastily eased himself to the floor.

Chloe threw herself to her knees beside him. “At least I’m sure he is your brother. Mr. Robert Berry from Worcestershire. He came to see Mr. Dunwoody because of the rumours that his brother Jonathan has been accused of highway robbery.”

“Oh the devil ,” Jon said savagely, dragging his fingers through his hair.

“Yes, that’s what I thought at first, but the thing is, no one seems to believe anymore that you are the highwayman.

Your brother has spoken to Sir John Grandison and to someone called Lord Sanderly, and now to Mr. Dunwoody, and they all seem to think your presence near the burglary was co-incidence and that this Bow Street runner has been following a false trail while the real highwaymen go free! ”

Jon’s brain took this in but seemed stuck. “Rob is here ?”

“Well, he was. He wanted to speak to me to be sure you were well for he knew about our meeting at the market and—”

“Then why the devil did I bolt when the runner confronted me?” he interrupted.

She blushed, distracting him. “Because you were showing off to me. He seemed to have no difficulty believing that.”

He let out a crack of laughter. “No, he wouldn’t. Where is he now?”

“He’s staying at Ellscombe, apparently, until after the ball. But don’t you see what this means, Jon?” She seized his hand. “ You can go home .”

He stared at her. Fragments of thoughts flashed through his mind. A reprieve... A chance to make things right with his parents and Rob and Nigel... Robert was here, might even have stood a few yards from him in the stable yard... Was he respectable again? He could go home... Only not with her .

He swallowed. “Have they called off the runner and the constables?”

“I think so. Um...at least I’m sure the runner will be called off, but I’m afraid he was on his way to Worcestershire to talk to your family. Robert seemed annoyed by that.”

“But not annoyed enough to head him off,” Jon said unfairly. “And I doubt I’ll catch him now.”

“Well, your father had already heard the rumours. Apparently this Grandison wrote to him, which is why Robert came to find you and the truth. Should I bring Robert to you?”

“I-I don’t know.” He tugged at his hair. “You must not be involved in this.”

Her eyes widened. “Robert would tell?”

“No, of course not,” he said, shocked. “But he is staying with the Dunwoodys and he cannot spend time in your empty stables. Besides, we are agreed Cavalo and I should go tonight.”

Her gaze fell. “Then you are still decided on that course? I wondered if Robert’s presence so close by might alter things.”

“I can’t allow it to, not until I am some distance away.”

She began tracing a complicated pattern on the fabric of her gown. “Maybe you could go away, pretend to learn about Robert being at Ellscombe, and follow him there in time for the ball. That might be fun.”

God, you are tempting ... Though a ball was not. He was no longer the dashing young officer ladies would be eager to dance with. He could not dance. Yet Chloe’s eyes sparkled with pleasure at the very idea of him being there. An ache began somewhere deep inside and seeped outward.

“Maybe not for the ball,” he said. “But perhaps there are possibilities.”

She was not looking at him as she tidied plates and used jugs together. “You could stay longer and think about it.”

How sweet and how easy that would be...

And how wrong. “No. I have to go tonight.”

***

I N FACT, BY LATER THAT afternoon, even Chloe was forced to agree.

Having extracted some oats from the main stable during her last visit to Jon, she was carrying them in her draw string bag toward the old stable when she became aware of the most awful clattering and banging.

And it seemed to be coming from the old stable itself.

Oh no ! She picked up her skirts and ran towards it. Her old friend Joe the groom was outside the building, alternately trying to open the door and leaping back from it as it shook under the force of the battering from inside.

Cavalo, it seemed, was breaking out.

“Stay back!” Joe yelled, catching sight of her. “There’s a horse in there and it’s mad as fire, and I can’t get to it because the door’s locked!”

“Oh, hush, Joe!” she begged. “He’s a secret.

And he’s not a bad horse, he’s just...opinionated.

” She brushed past him, inserting the key into the door.

“Cavalo, be good,” she said as gently as she could between the clatter of his hooves.

“I’m coming in and I’ve got oats and an apple and even some sugar. ..”

The battering stopped, though she heard an apparently derisive snort. She eased the door open and met the horse’s haughty stare. He was breathing deeply and pushed his head toward her, though with no aggression. She petted his nose and offered him the apple.

He condescended to be distracted and despite Joe’s warning, she slipped inside beside him. Muttering under his breath, Joe followed her.

“Close the door,” she said quickly. “I just hope he hasn’t attracted anyone else’s attention with that racket.” She opened her string bag and folded it back, so that the horse could more easily get at the oats within, then set it down beside his water bucket.

“What are you up to?” Joe demanded, circling the now calm horse, patting its withers. “He’s a fine beast, but where in the world did he come from?”

Chloe regarded him, this friend of her childhood, the companion of a thousand mischiefs and countless games.

“I’ll tell you,” she said cautiously. “But it’s a secret, Joe. I think this is the highwayman’s horse. Only Mr. Dunwoody says now that he isn’t the highwayman.”

Joe’s jaw showed a tendency to sag. He closed his mouth and swallowed. “And how do you come to be hiding the highwayman’s horse? Whether he is or isn’t!”

“I found him in the paddock this morning, grazing happily with our own horses. But I recognized him, so I hid him in here. I never thought of him trying to batter his way out.”

“But why did you move him in the first place?” Joe demanded.

“Oh dear. I think I’m going to have to show you something else, though before I do, you’re to swear secrecy or I won’t show or tell you anything.”

“No, it’ll be me doing the showing and the telling to his lordship!”

“You wouldn’t!” Chloe said, outraged, for they seemed to have reverted to childhood.

Joe sighed. “No, I probably wouldn’t, but seems to me you’re in a fix, Miss Chloe, and you’re going to need help to get out of it.”

“You’re right about that,” she admitted.

***

J ON HEARD ABOUT THE arrangement only from the young groom himself. From his loft, Jon heard someone come in and approach the ladder.

“Captain.”

Jon closed his fingers around his walking stick. Thanks to Chloe, he had his pistol back in his saddle bag again, but he really did not want to be waving that around when he was trying to be good.

“Miss Chloe sent me and I’m coming up.”

Jon stayed where he was, watching as the young man climbed into the loft and stood looking at him.

Jon looked back.