Page 32 of The Ladies Road Guide to Utter Ruin (The Ill-Mannered Ladies #2)

32

“You are angry,” Evan said, after we had ridden for twenty minutes in silence. “Please look at me.”

I craned my neck back and looked up at the sky. The afternoon clouds had cleared and dusk was approaching, an early crescent moon visible. It would not give us a great deal of light when night settled, but enough to make our way along the road. Back to exactly the same problems we had left, but this time with no way forward.

“I do not believe that you would wish me to force the doctor into giving testimony and thus ruining so many innocent lives,” Evan added. “I know it is disappointing—”

“Disappointing?” I said, finally looking at him. “Do you not see? We have no testimony. No usable evidence. You cannot be exonerated. Mulholland will keep coming and you will never be safe.”

“I am quite aware of that,” he said soberly. “And although I know you wish it to be otherwise, you cannot keep everyone safe, Gus. It is impossible.”

“You are very calm about it. Did you never believe the doctor could exonerate you? Did you come here without hope?”

“I hoped. Of course I hoped. But I also knew that there was little chance of it working out as we wished.” He paused, navigating his horse around a large hole at the side of the road and coming up beside me again. “You have so much hope and so much passion, Gus. You believe you can set things right, even when the odds are insurmountable.”

“Na?ve,” I said bitterly.

“No,” he said with some force. “Hope is essential. Without hope, we do not seek a way out of impossible situations. Your hope is your strength. And it is one of the many, many reasons why I love you, my darling Renegade.”

Love.

He had never spoken the word before, but then, neither had I. Of course, the word had been written in our letters, implied in our every action, felt within our kisses, but never the actual word stated itself.

The irretrievable declaration.

We were a few feet apart, on horseback, and navigating a bad road, and yet I had to touch him. I reached across and found his hand waiting for mine.

“I will not stop trying to clear your name,” I said. Then added, “My love.”

My own irretrievable declaration.

He smiled. “I know you will not, and we will find a way.”

We released hands, more from practicality than from any wish to do so. I looked ahead, fighting back a rise of tears. Absurdly happy and heartbroken at the same time. “So, you must go. You must take Hester and Miss Grant and find somewhere safe.”

“Yes, and I think it must be done in the next day or so.” There was apology in his tone.

“I agree. Before Alvanley arrives.” I pushed away the pain of our imminent separation. There would be enough time after to wallow in heartache. “Will you go out of Bristol?”

“No, too far away. I know a Welsh smuggler who sails out of Ceredigion. I should be able to organize something with him and his crew.”

Of course he knew smugglers. He had probably even smuggled goods himself. It was not the passage I would have chosen for Lady Hester in her current state, but if anyone could dodge the coastal defenses and warships, then it would be the smuggling fraternity.

And so, as dusk darkened into cold, clear night, we settled into the ride and planning an escape route through Bonaparte’s Europe.

···

About a quarter of an hour from Charlotte’s estate and a much-longed-for wash and dinner, we rounded a curve in the road to find a small troop of militia marching in the same direction as us, their progress a muffled clank of weaponry and thud of feet upon the damp dirt road. By my reckoning at least ten men, their uniforms dulled in the meager moonlight but still recognizable as red with blue facings.

Beside me, Evan stiffened in his saddle, his breath releasing in a long, misted hiss. “Ah, this is unfortunate,” he said.

They were a good distance ahead of us. Perhaps we could go around them. Even as the thought rose to my lips, the troop stopped. One of their number had clearly noticed us and apprised his leader, for the man motioned us to halt too.

We reined in as the troop turned smartly and marched back toward us. Callista shook her head in protest at the oncoming commotion, the rattle of her tack a chiming counterpoint. I peered into the dim light. The way the leading figure ahead walked seemed familiar, as did the lankier subordinate beside him, but I could not make out the man’s features beneath the visor of his shako hat.

“Is that Captain Morland and Lieutenant Powers?” I asked Evan.

“I cannot be certain,” he said, then added in an undertone, “If they are coming for me, I will head into the woods. You must not follow me, my love.”

“But they will shoot at you!”

“Exactly why you must not follow me.”

I tightened my grip around the reins. I might not follow, but nor would I stand by while men shot at him.

The troop came to a standstill a few yards from us. They were all fully uniformed, carrying rifles with bayonets and on high alert, for most of them continued to scan the surrounding woodland.

The captain walked up to us, removing his shako. It was, indeed, Morland, his youthful features made harsher in the moonlight. Or perhaps it was the task they were on that made him seem older.

I smiled warmly at him, although it felt like a rictus.

“Ah, I thought it was you, Lady Augusta.” He gave a quick, courteous bow. “Good evening. And to you, Mr. Talbot.”

Thank God, Evan was still Mr. Talbot. His horse bobbed its head and shifted to the side, no doubt from the ease of tension upon its reins.

“Good evening, Captain Morland,” I said, and nodded a greeting to Lieutenant Powers, who had stayed back with the men. “Has something happened?”

“There’s been some Luddite activity in the area. We are looking for a young man and woman—weaver types,” the captain said. “Have you been traveling far along this road?”

“A fair way,” Evan said. “That is why we are so late on our return.”

“Beyond the junction at Ashton-in-Makerfield?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Did you see anyone on the road or the surrounds?”

I recalled the man and woman crossing the field. Not lovers, then, but Luddites.

Evan shook his head. “Not a soul.”

“No, indeed,” I added. “What have these people done?”

“They are part of a Luddite group who are targeting mills and the houses of business owners in the area,” the captain said. “They have already set fire to one miller’s house and injured innocent people. We have reason to believe they will be targeting another tonight.”

“Well, I hope you find them before they do so, Captain,” Evan said.

“Thank you, we will.” He looked at his troop, then back at us. “Allow me to provide you with two of my men to escort you to the estate. I would not rest easy if friends of Lord and Lady Davenport came to harm under my watch. And if Lord Davenport wishes it, my men can stay and protect the gate.”

He signaled to his lieutenant, who gave an order to two of the front men of the troop. They stepped forward.

I gripped my reins more tightly. Before Evan, I would have considered such an escort a prudent precaution. Now the last thing we needed was a guard at the gate or Hester and Miss Grant seeing us arrive under the escort of soldiers.

“That is very thoughtful of you, Captain,” Evan said smoothly. “But I am accompanying Lady Augusta for that very reason.”

“Even so,” the young man said. “I think—”

“Thank you, Captain,” I interrupted, “but I would not wish to take any men away from your endeavors to protect people and property. You have such a large area to search and we have such a short distance to travel. We will be quite safe, I am sure.” He frowned, about to argue the point, but I surreptitiously urged my horse to take an impatient step. “I insist, Captain. We are on horseback and near our goal. Your men are on foot and will only delay our progress. We will be safe.”

The captain conceded my reasoning with a tilt of his head. “As you wish.” He waved his two men back into formation. “However, I do suggest you go carefully, Lady Augusta.” He gave a smart bow of his head and stepped back.

I raised my crop in acknowledgment and clicked my tongue, pressing my tired horse into a trot. “We will.”

Evan raised his hand in salute and followed, bringing his horse alongside mine.

We rode in silence for a minute or so, listening to the sound of orders shouted and the clang of troops marching again. Finally, I murmured, “Are we beyond their sight?”

“I do not know, but do not look back,” he replied, forestalling me from that very action. “Guilty people look back.”

I kept my gaze fixed upon the dark road ahead, straining to make out the sounds behind us. Finally the clang and thud of troops marching was no longer audible.

Evan glanced over his shoulder. “We are clear.”

I looked back, too, seeing only the shadowy, moonlit curve of road. “You lied about seeing the couple.”

Evan looked at me, amused. “So did you.” He leaned forward and patted his horse’s neck. “I do not help a redcoat on principle, and I think the Luddites have a just cause, but what is your excuse?”

“It must be your bad influence,” I said.

“Perhaps.” I caught the edge of his rogue’s smile. “Or perhaps it is because you are an outlaw at heart.”

I was thinking up a suitable retort when I heard the sound of galloping hooves coming toward us. One rider, at full speed. Dangerous along such a dark road. Evan must have heard it at the same time, for he reined in his horse. I drew Callista to a halt alongside.

“Someone is in a hurry,” Evan said. He flipped open his saddlebag and drew out a pistol.

My heart quickened. “Mulholland?” I asked, gathering my reins, but even as I said it, I knew it could not be so. Mulholland would never travel alone.

Who, then, was hurtling toward us at such speed?

The horse and its rider—dark silhouettes against the moon-silvered road—thundered into view. At the sight of us, the rider sat back, half halting upon the reins until the horse slowed. The wild gallop toward us shifted into a slower gait. Whoever it was certainly knew how to manage a horse.

The rider—now clearly a man in a greatcoat—eased his horse into a trot. He raised his hand, a commanding wave signaling us to stay where we were, and with that action I finally recognized the broad-shouldered figure.

“It is Mr. Kent!”

“Are you sure?” Evan demanded, but before I could answer, the distance between us and the rider had dwindled enough for Evan to recognize the Runner too. He lowered his pistol. “I thought he was in London. What is he doing here?”

A good question, and clearly about to be answered since Mr. Kent was already reining in. Both man and beast were panting, their breaths puffing into mist before their mouths.

“Thank God I have found you,” Kent managed, walking Caesar up to us. “Your sister sent me.”

“Julia? Is something wrong?” Good God, had she collapsed again?

“No, nothing is wrong with your sister, I assure you. But Lady Hester and Miss Grant have run away from Davenport Hall.”

Evan straightened in his saddle. “Damn.” He gathered his reins. “Which way did they go? Are they on foot? We must find them. Hester will not last long in this cold.”

“Wait,” Mr. Kent said. “It is worse. I am here because I followed your brother, Lord Deele, to Davenport Hall, and he has brought Lord Duffield too.”

Deele and Duffy were here? “They came together? In the same carriage?” I asked.

“Yes, Deele visited your brother after Mulholland met with him. I can only imagine Mulholland told him about seeing Miss Grant in your drawing room. There was no use sending a note to you because they left almost immediately, and so I followed.”

“What about Mulholland?” I asked.

Kent shook his head. “I don’t know, but I could not leave you and Lady Julia to face Deele alone. Well, I thought you were alone.” He eyed Evan. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for the doctor from the duel.”

I frowned, trying to rapidly piece together the reasons behind these unlikely alliances. “I think we must assume Mulholland is here too. Why else would he send Deele here to flush out Hester? She is bait for you.”

“But he doesn’t know I am here,” Evan said. “For all he knows, I am still in London.”

“My darling,” I said, “wherever Hester is, you are, too, or soon will be. Mulholland knows that.”

He considered the logic. “That gives a lot of credit to him. Do you really think he is that strategic?”

“I do. Or if not Mulholland, then whoever is pulling his strings.”

“I did not see him or any of his men following,” Mr. Kent said. “But I think you are right.”

Evan waved away the problem of Mulholland. “Whether he is here or not, I do not care. Hester and Miss Grant must be our priority. If Deele gets hold of Hester he will not let her go, and as her legal guardian, he has the law upon his side.”

“Deele is pursuing Lady Hester in his coach. Lady Julia sent me to find you to bring you back as quickly as possible.”

Evan shook his head. “Too much time will be wasted if we return to Davenport Hall. I must go after my brother now.”

“Your horses are spent,” Mr. Kent said. “You’ll have to change them before we start our search.”

Evan glared at Kent, the fear for his sister warring with practicality. Finally, he nodded. “We’ll change horses.”

“We will do better than that,” I said with some anticipation. “We’ll take Charlotte’s racing phaeton.”