Page 25 of Escape of the Highwayman (Escape #3)

on closed his eyes. You fool. You honourable, beloved little fool.

“What?” thundered the large gentleman who was clearly her father.

“The lady is mistaken,” Jon said, opening his eyes again. “Or overly soft-hearted.” He tapped his stick against his wooden leg to provide the reason for that.

“I stand by it,” Chloe said catching his eye at last and holding it. They stared at each other and Jon didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, shout at her, or stalk away. Whatever had happened to his much-vaunted quick decisions?

“No, you don’t,” he said. “You can’t, when I have already denied it.”

Her father, Lord Lessing, looked ready to explode.

Then Robert nudged Jon hard enough to knock him off-balance. “Oh, stop being so wretchedly noble, Jon,” he said cheerfully. “Your scruples are quite unnecessary since you are betrothed to the lady.”

That won another stunned silence, not least from Jon, and even Chloe herself.

It was Lord Lessing who broke it. “Nonsense! Utter nonsense! Chloe is about to be betrothed to—”

“I would think carefully, my lord,” someone interrupted—the man Jon suspected of being Mr. Black. He was taking snuff as elegantly as any town buck, then paused and offered the box to his lordship. “I understand the Berrys are an old and respected family, and this gentleman is the eldest son.”

“But, but—”

Black interrupted him again. “I know you meant to say, Chloe is about to be betrothed formally to Mr. Jonathan Berry, but of course you had already acknowledged the engagement privately.”

Lessing stared at Black, chagrined. He understood what he needed to do to prevent his daughter’s ruin. It was perfect in its way, although it was not Jon’s way, and Jon had so wanted everything to be right for her.

“You always meant to announce it tonight, Papa,” Chloe said brazenly, forcing her father’s hand. “But we may as well admit that Jon and I were at Lessing Place. The servants saw us, too.”

Servant. Singular. Her friend Joe, the groom. But Lord Lessing, who showed a tendency to splutter, did not know that. A wrathful look replaced his confusion, but he rapped out. “Very well, very well, yes, of course they are engaged. Their meeting that night was my wife’s idea of course, I knew nothing about it.”

“Thank you, Papa,” Chloe breathed.

“But Mr. Black,” Lessing uttered in despairing tones.

“Oh, Mr. Black will not be leaving the area just yet,” Chloe said. “Will you, sir?”

For some reason, Black actually blushed. “Not yet,” he agreed.

“If that ain’t just what always happens!” Whitey exclaimed. “All the damned nobs stitching it up to suit themselves while ordinary, decent folk like me are clapped in irons and hanged by the neck! It ain’t right!”

“Oh, we won’t hang you tonight, my good fellow,” Dunwoody said. “Proper enquiries will be made, but as it stands, Mr. Berry’s alibi is proven. Your is not. And there you shall stay.”

“What about his freeing the other cove?” Whitey demanded.

“There is that,” Dunwoody allowed. “And you, Dance. You went to discover what you could about the accusations previously levelled against Mr. Berry. What did you learn?”

The runner sniffed in a disgruntled sort of way. “I never got as far as Worcestershire,” he said reluctantly. “I went to speak to Lord Wolf instead—the man who said his wife was kidnapped during the burglary at Grand Court.”

Jon’s stomach, which had begun to ease, if not numb itself, suddenly knotted up again. Wolf could still ruin him, and along with him, his family and Chloe...

Somehow, Chloe was beside him, sliding her hand into his and his fingers curled around hers instinctively. He inhaled her, sweet and brave and wonderful, and prayed it would not be for the last time.

Dance, the Bow Street runner, was regarding him with curled lips.

“What did his lordship say?” Dunwoody snapped.

“That he would press the matter no further,” Dance said reluctantly. “He was satisfied Captain Berry was not involved in the assault upon his wife. That matter is closed. And since the thieves are scattered, so is the matter of the burglary. For now.”

Jon was afraid to breathe.

Chloe’s fingers tightened convulsively. “Then I am free to marry Jon?” she said blatantly, and suddenly he wanted to laugh because she was so wonderful, and cry because he would never, ever deserve her.

Lord Lessing flapped one defeated hand. Dunwoody cast a sly, triumphant glance at Black who, he probably imagined, would now engage himself to Laura after all.

Whitey began to curse and shout until Sir Denbeigh covered his ears and Dunwoody shooed everyone hurriedly toward the stairs.

“Guess what?” Chloe whispered breathlessly in Jon’s ear. “It’s midnight, and time for the unmasking.”

“Oh, I think we’ve taken care of that already,” he said, and started to laugh, a foolish, joyous kind of laugh that appeared to be infectious, for Black laughed too and even Robert was grinning and dashing his sleeve across his face, as though emotion had got the better of him.

“IT’S BEEN A LONG TIME since I have heard you laugh like that,” Robert said.

After the unmasking had come supper and more dancing, but finally the brothers had found themselves alone in a quiet corner of the ballroom beside a display of flowers that were beginning to wilt in the heat of so many candles.

Chloe was dancing with the youthful highwayman.

And Jon knew it was time, long past time, for honest explanation.

“I have missed the laughter,” he admitted. “I just couldn’t find it. I was...broken. I could fix my body—most of it—by sticking bits onto it and working at it. But I hated it.” He shrugged impatiently. “Call me what you like—I deserve it, and it can’t be worse than I know myself. Everything was wrong because I felt I had lost everything that mattered. I was blind, stupid, unforgivably selfish. I’m surprised you didn’t all kick me out before I left.”

“I thought about it,” Robert said evenly.

“I know. I couldn’t... I couldn’t sort myself out at home. I was too full of reliance and uselessness and the impossibility of things being as they were. As I wanted them to be.” Broodingly, he tapped the end of his cane against his false foot. “I forgot what I had, thought only of what I had lost. And so I came too damned close to losing everything for everyone.”

“And so you fixed yourself?” Robert said, clearly trying to understand.

Jon smiled lopsidedly. “Oh, no, I got myself into loads of trouble that I still wouldn’t be out of it wasn’t for a lot of other people including you. No, Chloe fixed me. Made me see myself for what I was. For what I could still be.”

He glanced up and met his brother’s gaze again.

“You met her just as the runner said you did,” Robert accused.

“Yes, but it was luck—or fate—that made me choose the Lessings’ stables to hide in. Someone did shoot me, and she looked after me. It’s mostly healed.”

“And so you will marry her?”

“I shouldn’t. Why did you tell them we were betrothed?”

“Even I have flashes of brilliance. Besides, I saw the way you looked at her. You’ve never looked at anyone like that.”

“I never wanted to force her into this.”

“She adores you.”

“Why?” Jon asked, genuinely puzzled.

Robert nudged him. “You must be an adorable fellow.” He stood up and sauntered off toward Laura Dunwoody, leaving Jon laughing again.

HIS NEXT HURDLE WAS his encounter with the Lessings en famille, when they were about to depart. Chloe introduced him formally to her parents and her sisters and brother, who all eyed him with an inevitable mixture of suspicion and interest.

“Call on me tomorrow,” Lord Lessing said abruptly. “At three.”

Jon bowed. “At three, my lord. Good night.”

While Lessing harried his family into their coaches, Chloe whispered to Jon, “Don’t worry, he will be fine. He just needs to get over the idea that he cannot waste Beatrice on a mere cit. He hasn’t realized yet, he has no choice in that either.”

“Actually,” Jon said thoughtfully, “Robert and I could both offer help in making his estates more profitable. His methods are old and draining the land of... But I’ll tell him tomorrow. Chloe?”

He paused, holding her hand in his. “Don’t let them force you into this. We have time. All the time we want.”

He pressed his lips to her fingers, and then she was all but snatched from him and bundled into the carriage.

AFTER HIS EXHAUSTING few days, Jon, in the luxury of his brother’s dressing room at Ellscombe House, expected to sleep like the dead. His one worry was missing his appointment with Lord Lessing at three. But to his surprise, he woke at eight in the morning and knew what he had to do.

Leaving Robert peacefully asleep in the main bedchamber, he washed and dressed in his usual traveling clothes, picked up his saddle bags, and went downstairs.

To his surprise, he could hear his host’s voice through the open door of a room on the ground floor. He went toward it, and with a brief knock, stuck his head inside.

“Sir? I’m just going to ride in to—”

“Ah, Berry,” Dunwoody interrupted. “Come in for a moment, there’s a good fellow. This gentleman has just reported a robbery on the highway which occurred several days ago. He wasn’t going to bother reporting it until he heard of our three accused highwaymen. You’ll be glad to know he too has identified our current prisoner, though sadly he hasn’t got his stolen money back.”

Jon glanced at the other man in the room, a dark and curiously frail looking young man. “I’m sorry,” Jon said. “I hope you did not lose too much.”

“Nothing that cannot be replaced.” The man had an unexpectedly deep yet soft voice.

“Mr. Berry,” Dunwoody said, belatedly remembering the formalities. “And Mr...er...”

“De’Ath,” said the young man, offering his hand. “How do you do?”

Unusual name. Where had he heard it before? Jon shook his hand. “Very well, as it happens! I hope you manage to retrieve your money.”

With an airy wave, Jon departed, and went to find Cavalo, whom he had brought back to the stable from the woods last night. Noddock had left earlier on Whitey’s horse, riding straight home to Devon.

Jon knew the feeling. He too needed to go home, and he was longing for the freedom of a long ride.

CHLOE HAD LAUGHED AND danced and evaded her way through her family’s various interrogations, saying only that she was deliriously happy to marry Jon Berry.

“You are sure you do not wish to marry Mr. Black?” Beatrice asked anxiously as they went up to bed.

“Oh no.” She leaned closer and whispered, “He is all yours. And Laura will have Mr. Robert Berry. It is all working out for the best.”

It should have meant a long and peaceful sleep, with Jon’s visit to look forward to the following day.

And yet she woke with a feeling of unease that made her want to cling to Jon. It could not all have worked itself out so well in a short hour. Something was surely wrong. Something they had not thought of, someone who would threaten him...

Aware she was being ridiculous and had absolutely no cause for such dread, she still could not wait for three o’clock. She did not even wait for breakfast but dressed in her riding habit and left her still slumbering family.

Joe was up and yawning and caught her mare for her. He helped her to saddle and bridle the animal, though casting worried looks at her every so often.

She made an effort to smile. “I’m only riding over to Ellscombe,” she assured him.

He boosted her up into the saddle and she was off, flying down to the crossroads by the quickest path.

As she approached the fork, a rider crossed her path in the direction of Greater Lessing and, eventually, London. Something about the grey horse and the casual poise of the rider caught her attention, and she suddenly urged the mare to a gallop.

And as she paused, staring after the rider, she knew. It was Cavalo. And it was Jon. And they were leaving.

Desolation flooded her, and yet almost immediately, anger saved her. And determination.

How dare he? How dare he? With a sob of rage, she kicked the mare to a gallop and flew after him.

Of course, she was being unreasonable. She had wakened with this uncertainty in her heart and only wanted him to soothe her. And he... Well, he was going his own way as he always did. Probably, he really would come back in a year. Wasting all that time...

Oh, no. She rode lower in the saddle, urging the mare faster. He glanced back, but he didn’t stop. In fact, she was sure she saw the gleam of his smile, and then he too sped up.

Cavalo was bigger, fitter, and stronger. He would win over her mare any day. But Chloe would not let him, not this time. She drove the mare on, faster and faster until eventually they were riding abreast, neck and neck.

At last Jon looked over at her. She thought he was actually about to smile and could not bear it. And then she was ahead, forcing the mare across the path to halt him.

“Stand and deliver!” she declaimed.

She had meant it to resonate, to hurt, but she hadn’t expected quite that expression, of confused concern.

“Deliver what?” he asked warily.

“You! Don’t you dare try to leave now. Not after everything you said, everything I said. Jon, I won’t have it!”

“Nor should you,” he said, clearly still feeling his way. “Er... I am only going to Greater Lessing.”

She blinked. “What?”

“For a betrothal gift,” he said patiently. “It was to be a surprise.”

She touched one hand to her face. “I...I thought you were going home. To wait out your year as you said before...”

“Oh, I think things have moved on since then, don’t you?”

She nodded dumbly, foolish tears starting to her eyes. She felt suddenly exhausted and overwrought.

“I didn’t trust you,” she whispered, and suddenly that was the saddest thing in the world. Except that he moved his horse right next to hers and leaned over to put his arm around her.

“Why should you?” he said ruefully. “I have been an idiot, though occasionally with the right motives. Chloe?”

She glanced up, clutching his shoulders hard, and he kissed her mouth with such gentleness, such tenderness that she melted. All her fears and anger and doubts spilled away leaving only wonder and delicious new sensation. He had never kissed her quite like this before and she clung to him at first as a lifeline, and then just because she could do nothing else.

“You weren’t escaping?” she blurted, when eventually, she could speak.

He shook his head. “Do you want to come, and we can choose a betrothal gift together?”

“Have you any money?” she asked doubtfully.

He grinned. “I was a highwayman for months.”

She let out a breath of laughter. “Why not?”

They straightened more decorously, but rode side by side, very close together. “I was thinking,” Jon said, “that after we have pacified your parents, perhaps you would care to come and meet mine? You and Laura Dunwoody could chaperone each other.”

“Because she is going to marry Robert?”

“I expect she is. At any rate, I don’t care who comes with you, as long as you are there. We could even obtain a special license, if your father agrees, and go alone.”

Somehow, she managed to lay her head against his shoulder, just for an instant. “I like that idea best of all.”

Her panic was past. The birds were singing. And the man she loved rode by her side with plans to marry her. She was too tired and too happy to think of anything more.