Scandal And Miss Markham. Janice Preston

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      Thea straightened in the saddle, drawing Star quickly to one side of the lane they rode along. Vernon’s form was indistinct in the distance as the light faded, but Thea could just make out two shadows—humped, awkward-looking creatures—moving swiftly parallel with the lane, on the far side of group of bushes from Vernon and his horse. Thea pushed Star into a trot, trusting that her mare’s black coat and Thea’s own dull clothing would render them invisible to any backward glance. The two—and she could now make out they were men, crouching as they ran—had overtaken Vernon, who appeared not to have noticed he had company.

      She recalled all the recent reports of footpads in the area and she realised how reckless she had been in following Vernon in this way. Suppose it had been her they had spotted and now stalked? She had been blind to everything other than finding her brother. The gap between her and Vernon had closed. Without taking her eyes from the two men, she eased Star back to a walk and fumbled with the buckle on her saddlebag. She withdrew the duelling pistol, thanking God she’d thought to prime it in advance. She pulled the hammer to full cock and pointed it skywards. Even though she was a fair shot, she could not risk hitting either Vernon or Warrior.

      There was a break in the bushes a few yards ahead of Vernon and the two men paused at that point, still hunched over. Thea could just make out they both held weapons—one short and thick, like a club, the other longer and very slim—and Thea prayed it was not a blade of some sort.

      Vernon rode on at an easy walk.

      It happened very fast. The two men erupted from the bushes. One grabbed at Warrior’s reins as the other, thick club upraised, went for the rider.

      Thea dug her heels into Star but, even as she yelled a warning, she saw Vernon’s leg jerk sideways. His boot collided with his assailant’s head and a scream of pain rent the air as the man staggered back, clutching his face, his club discarded. Vernon shot a swift glance behind him, in Thea’s direction, before launching himself from the saddle at the second man, who had come alongside Warrior, still clutching his reins. Vernon cursed viciously as the man jabbed his stick at him. Thea hauled Star to a halt, leapt from the saddle, and ran towards the struggling men, pistol in hand. She stopped a few yards away, pistol still pointing into the air.

      Vernon threw a punch, catching his attacker on the jaw with satisfying crack. As the man staggered back, Vernon shot another glance at Thea.

      ‘Don’t stand gawping, lad. Guard the other one.’

      Thea gulped and pointed the pistol with a shaky hand in the general direction of the first assailant, still moaning on the ground, blood pouring from his nose. Vernon stalked after the second attacker, who was stumbling backwards, his eyes riveted to the menacing figure that followed. He gripped his stick—which Thea could now see had been sharpened at one end—with both hands, pointing it at Vernon. A movement from the man on the ground then secured Thea’s attention and she saw no more, but the cries and the curses coming from two men behind her suggested they now grappled and finally, unable to bear the suspense, she glanced round. Vernon, his hand clutched to his side, was bent over, but there was no sign of his assailant.

      Vernon’s head lifted and she felt the force of his gaze upon her. ‘Look out!’

      Desperation leant an edge to his shout, but his warning was too late. A solid mass thumped into Thea from behind, knocking her aside. She stumbled, desperately trying to stay on her feet and to keep hold of the pistol, her stomach clenching tight as bile rose to choke her throat.

      By the time she steadied herself, the two assailants were disappearing amongst the bushes by the side of the road, one man’s arm draped across the other’s shoulders as he was dragged along. She aimed her pistol at the bushes, following the rustling sounds, using her left hand to steady her shaking right one.

      ‘Leave it!’ That voice brooked no disobedience.

      Thea lowered her arm, gulping with relief that she would not have to use the firearm, although she would have fired had she been forced to. What if those ruffians had not run away? What if Vernon had been incapacitated? The enormity of her decision to follow him in this way suddenly hit her. And now...she realised how likely it was Vernon would see through her disguise and her relief seeped away to be replaced by fear at the thought of facing him. He would not be happy. She sucked in a breath.

      ‘Thank you.’ Vernon’s attention was still on the spot where the two men had disappeared into the bushes. ‘I am in your debt.’

      In the spot where they stood, where trees overhung the road, the light had all but gone. Thea kept her face averted from Vernon and muttered, ‘Glad to help.’

      Vernon crossed slowly to Warrior and reached into his saddlebag, keeping a wary eye on the surrounding bushes. All sounds of the men’s retreat had faded away, but Thea still breathed a thankful sigh when Vernon withdrew his own pistol. At least they were both now armed and ready for anything.

      ‘How far is Birmingham? I need a bed for the night.’

      Thea pointed ahead. ‘Two or three miles.’

      He grunted. ‘I’ll stop at the next inn. There must be another between here and the town.

      Vernon rubbed his hand across his jaw, the rasp of whiskers against his palm reminding him of the long, weary day behind him. He shoved his foot into the stirrup and hauled himself up to the saddle. He was knackered even before those two had jumped him, but now... He pressed his hand to his side and winced. That bastard had caught him with his stake, but he was sure it hadn’t punctured anything vital. When he had first become aware of the two figures lurking in the undergrowth, energy had flooded him, banishing his weariness and helping him to fight them off. But now that unnatural surge had dissipated and all he wished for was a hot meal and a comfortable bed. He hoped the next inn would be a decent place. Some of the places he had stopped at since leaving Stourbridge had left much to be desired.

      Vernon glanced round at the lad, riding a little behind, out of Vernon’s direct line of sight. He was not the talkative type and that suited Vernon very well, but he was aware how fortunate it was that the lad had seen what was happening and come to Vernon’s aid. He wondered idly if the boy was local...that was a very fine mare he was riding. Vernon frowned, staring at the road ahead as suspicions stirred. Such a quality, fine-boned animal was an unusual choice for a country lad. He glanced back again. The combination of the dim light and the lad’s cap pulled low over his eyes rendered his face all but invisible.

      They had ridden into a village and around a curve in the road. There before them was a small inn, the Bell, set between a churchyard and a row of neat cottages. Vernon could just make out the church itself, set back from the other buildings, its square tower silhouetted against the night sky.

      ‘Do you know anything about this place?’

      The lad shook his head.

      ‘No matter,’ Vernon said. ‘Go in and see if it looks respectable, will you, lad? I’ll hold the horses. Oh, and enquire for the local constable, while you’re there, will you?’ Once he left the saddle he feared it would be more than he could manage to remount. ‘I must report that attack—I was informed earlier there has been a spate of such incidences in the area. I make no doubt the constable will be interested in the information, especially as one of those men looks unlikely to go far.’

      The boy merely grunted by way of reply and did as he was bid as Vernon clenched his teeth against the pain in his side and battled the urge СКАЧАТЬ