An Honorable Thief (9 page)

He tensed at the thought which had suddenly popped into his brain. He considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

No! It was nonsense! Genteelly brought-up damsels of the
ton
did not steal their supper-partners' tie-pins. It was not possible. For a start the girl was not bright enough...

Only...she had managed to have two dances and supper with him and avoid giving any information about her background. Would a brainless widgeon have done that? He did not have much experience of brainless widgeons, but on consideration, it seemed more than likely that a truly brainless widgeon would have prattled non-stop and blurted out all sorts of dreary details about her home and family. But perhaps the lisp made her self-conscious about prattling.

Oh, it was ridiculous. His tie-pin had simply fallen off.

Mr Devenish was disgusted. His head was likely to split. He had a sour taste in his mouth in more ways than one. Ridiculous to imagine a young lady making her come-out was as skilled a pickpocket as a Marseilles wharf rat. He needed some exercise in the cold morning air to clear the cobwebs away.

His man arrived, and was dispatched to fetch a tankard of ale, to lay out Mr Devenish's riding buckskins and to send for a groom to saddle up Sultan and bring him to the door. Mr Devenish was going for a ride.

Despite the very early hour of the morning, the streets were busy and full of life as usual; carters with loads of cabbages and potatoes, handcarts laden with flowers, barrows full of old clothing, porters carrying baskets of corn or mysterious boxes, a pieman with fresh hot pies balanced on a tray on his head, servants bustling out to run their masters' or mistresses' errands, beggars rattling their tins, urchins scrambling underfoot, racing thither and yon, an occasional late returning gambler and a carouser or two returning unsteadily to their lodgings.

Mr Devenish took little notice. His mount, Sultan, a big black stallion with a gleaming coat and a proud arched neck, demanded most of his attention. The horse caracoled and danced with high spirits and too many oats, taking offence first at an urchin here, shying at a butcher's boy and his cart there; he reared in apparent fright as a dog ran close to his hooves; he danced sideways along the cobblestones, tossing his head in disapproval at the flapping skirts of a couple of maidservants, clutching baskets.

Mr Devenish smiled, enjoying Sultan's mischievous antics. His stallion was well under his control; the horse needed a run as much as the master.

The park, in contrast to the streets, was almost deserted. The leisured classes had not yet arisen, and the rest of the world had little time to dally in parks. The morning air was fresh, crisp and cold. Mr Devenish took a deep breath, enjoying the bite as it hit his lungs.

Sultan pranced and snorted, eager to get moving. Mr Devenish urged him into action and then, as no one else was around, he gave Sultan his head, relishing the contrast between the warmth and power of the spirited beast under him, and the whoosh of cold air through his body. Sultan's hooves pounded on the turf, echoing in the near silence.

He passed a couple of rabbits nibbling on the sweet, damp grass. He scattered some birds feeding off breadcrumbs left by some child the day before. He passed a couple of men in frieze overcoats lurking by a clump of rhododendrons. They looked out as he came towards them but stepped back in a hurry as Sultan thundered down towards them. He idly wondered what they were doing there, but soon forgot them as he swerved to avoid a gaggle of indignant geese.

After a time, man and mount were breathing hard, and Hugo could tell that just as the ride had swept the cobwebs from his brain, so his horse had raced the excess energy from his body. He allowed Sultan to slow to an elegant canter. Hugo smiled. One of the things he loved about this particular horse was the way he moved so smoothly from one gait into the next. Hugo breathed deeply. He was feeling refreshed, invigorated, alive. And hungry. He could hear another herse galloping in the distance. Galloping hard and fast.

He looked around and saw another rider, a lady in a plain dark blue habit with a black hat crammed low over her hair. Another early riser. Soon the park would begin to fill with others, who, like him, preferred the relative quiet of the early morn to the crowded fashionable hours of the afternoon.

He watched the lady rider. It was unusual for a female to rise so early, but he soon perceived that this was no ordinary female. Most females he knew preferred to walk their horses, or, at most, to canter. This woman galloped. Hard and unfashionably, like he and Sultan had. The mount she rode was undistinguished; that much was obvious, even from this distance, but she rode magnificently. He had never seen a better seat on a lady. She had certainly almost grown up on horseback. He wondered briefly if she was a lady
—there was no groom accompanying her that he could see.

He shrugged and turned his horse in a slow circle and headed back, much the same way he had come.

Suddenly he noticed the regular beat of the other horse's hooves had come to a halt. He glanced back over his shoulder, idly, then swore. He wrenched Sultan around and thundered back the way he'd just come.

The two ruffians in frieze overcoats he had seen earlier had accosted the woman. One of them had grabbed the horse by its bridle and was fighting the lady for its control. She was giving as good as she got, beating him over the head and arms with her riding crop, all the time urging the horse to move. Her horse reared and snorted but could not pull away. The second man grabbed the skirt of her habit and pulled at it, trying to unseat her.

Hugo let out an oath and urged Sultan to gallop faster.

The woman unhooked the leg which gripped the pommel of the sidesaddle and kicked the second scoundrel hard in the face. He reeled back. Hugo heard the man shout in pain. He also heard the threats the man made towards his female attacker and his blood boiled.

"Belay that, you villains! Leave that woman alone!" he shouted, wishing he had worn spurs.

Both men glanced around. The woman took instant advantage of their momentary inattention, and wrenched her horse's head away. Giving a final vicious swipe with her crop across the head of the first attacker, she forced the horse into action and broke away.

"Well done, madam," shouted Hugo and, pointing Sultan straight at the two ruffians, he urged his horse at them in a thunderous gallop. The men scattered and ran.

For a second Hugo wanted to pursue the villains, but his first priority was to see the woman was all right. She would no doubt be totally overset by the incident, brave fighter though she had been. He would offer her his escort to her home.

He followed her. She was galloping fast towards the nearest exit, but her horse was a commoner and Sultan easily overtook it.

She glanced quickly over her shoulder as he came near, and to his surprise, she urged her horse into greater speed.

"It is all right, madam," Hugo called, "I mean you no harm."

She answered him by digging her heel into her horse's flank, urging him to greater speed.

"I am a friend,'' Hugo called, deciding she was probably in a panic. "My name is Devenish, madam. I merely wish to satisfy myself that you are unharmed."

"I am perfectly well, thank you so much. Please do not concern yourself," she flung over her shoulder in a cool voice.

Hugo brought his horse abreast with hers. “I have every intention of escorting you safely to your home and nothing you say will alter that," he responded firmly.

He glanced across at her, wishing he could see her face, but he could not. She wore a fine dark veil
—to protect her complexion, no doubt. Many ladies did. It also protected her from inquisitive glances. Hugo found the aura of mystery the veil created very intriguing. In any case she was taking no chances; she kept her face averted. He rode beside her, a small smile on his lips.

She was not of his own class, he thought, or if she was, she had come upon hard times. Her habit was plain, old-fashioned and a little shabby, though immaculately clean and pressed. She was small and slender and her hair was dark; curly wisps of it escaped from the base of her brown curly brimmed riding hat. She was young too, and possibly good-looking, judging by the grace and delicate creaminess of her neck, a small amount of which was all the skin she had bared.

He could not see whether she wore a ring; she wore gloves of York tan, but her hands seemed small and gripped the reins tightly
—more tightly than was warranted—too tightly for such an experienced and skilled horsewoman. He looked closer. Aha, her hands were shaking, just a little. She had been frightened after all, but was determined not to show it. A spurt of admiration went though him. She had courage, this woman.

"You need not fear any importunities from me, madam," he said softly. "I simply wish to see you safe."

She did not slow her pace at all.

Hugo was a little irritated. He was her rescuer
—or would have been had she not rescued herself. The least she could do was thank him. Well, his conscience reminded him, she had thanked him, perfectly politely, but it was not enough. He wanted a face-to-face encounter. Yes, he wanted, quite desperately, to see her face.

"My name is Devenish," he repeated. "And I
shall
escort you home, madam."

She made an irritated sound, but otherwise did not respond. Her face remained averted.

Hugo urged Sultan forward a little closer, trying to catch a glimpse of her face under the flimsy veil. She urged her mount forward too and kept her face turned away. Hugo's lips twitched at her determination. Was she playing a game, or was she in earnest? A virtuous woman, quite properly refusing to speak to a strange man, or a clever vixen, enticing the hound... ?

With her seat, she would hunt magnificently, he thought.

"You ride very well," he said.

She did not respond. They reached the park exit and immediately it became necessary to slow the horses because of the amount of traffic on the streets. At a walk, conversation was easier.

"I imagine you have ridden most of your life. I do not think I have seen any other lady ride as well as you," said Hugo. "I am most impressed at your managing to stay seated with two ruffians trying to pull you off."

She shrugged and kept her face turned.

"Do you know what they were after? Was it money, do you think? Did they say?"

Silence.

"I shall report the incident to the park trustees."

She seemed to hesitate.

Hugo added, "I shall speak to them as soon as I have seen you safely home."

She made a small noise in her throat. Annoyance? Or resignation?

Hugo repressed a smile. He was quite determined to see the lady's face, and to hear her speak again and the sooner she realised it, the better for both of them. She was brave and stubborn and wilful and spirited and, he thought, probably very attractive.

He felt a surge of interest, man to woman. Yes, that was it, he thought. It had undoubtedly been too long since he had taken a mistress. That was also, no doubt, why last night he had felt so unaccountably attracted to a chit just out of the schoolroom, with no conversation, a frightful lisp, no social skills and the infuriating habit of treating him like an octogenarian.

He glanced speculatively across at his silent and unwilling companion. She wasn't acting like a lightskirt; she had certainly made no attempt to attract him. On the other hand, she was playing cat and mouse very skilfully; a clever courtesan would know that most men preferred the role of hunter. Was she a respectable woman trying to protect her identity from a stranger, or was she deliberately setting out to engage his interest by behaving mysteriously?

Respectable woman or not, Mr Devenish was extremely interested.

"There is no need to concern yourself," she said finally. "I am almost home. Thank you again for your assistance." She still refused to look at him.

Hugo smiled. She was annoyed with his persistence. And if her speech was any guide, she was also a lady. "It is my pleasure," he said smoothly. "But I am not one to abandon a lady so recently in distress. I will see you to your door."

She made another small sound
—this time unmistakably one of annoyance. "There is no need to see me anywhere. I am not the least upset. I have encountered robbers before, and have survived much worse experiences. I am not in need of assistance, I thank you. And I will thank you to leave me alone!"

He briefly glimpsed part of her profile as she spoke, and though he did not recognise her, a
frisson
of familiarity passed though him.

"You have encountered robbers before?" he said, and reaching across, he caught her rein.

"Yes," she snapped. "In Jaipur once when I was fourteen! Now have the goodness to release my horse immediately!" He made no move to do so, and before he realised her intention, she raised her crop and to his amazement, brought it down smartly on his hand. With an oath, he released her rein, and heedless of the traffic, she galloped away.

Hugo stared down at the livid red mark on his wrist. It didn't hurt all that much, but dammit! The girl had hit him! She'd actually hit him. Quite as if he was just as big a ruffian as those two in the park.

He would have laughed if he wasn't so shocked. Because as she'd turned to hit him, he'd glimpsed her face through the veil, just for a second.