Come the Night (The Dangerous Delameres - Book 1) (5 page)

Silver studied the leathery-faced old man who had been servant, partner, and confidant since her father’s death. She tried to guess what speculations were taking shape in his keen brain.

But Tinker wasn’t speaking and her head was hazy with pain. She found it difficult even to stand up. When she swayed, Tinker caught her.

Silver drew a long breath. “No matter what they try, we’re not going to leave,” she said firmly. “This is all we have left of our parents, and no one is going to take it away from us. Not
ever.”

Bram nodded, trying to look grown up. Trying to keep his eyes away from the blood on his sister’s cheek. But he looked uncertain and more than a little afraid.

Silver patted his arm. “That’s a promise, my love. Now let’s go home and decide how in heaven we’re going to manage it.”

Beside Bram the big yellow Pyrenees sheepdog cocked his head and barked joyously. They started off, arm in arm, while the sun burned blood-red and sank over the brow of the hill.

Night — relentless and impenetrable — crept over the rolling fields.

The moon drifted behind fingers of cloud. High upon the heath a solitary rider eased his mount through a tangle of gorse overlooking the Norwich Road. Cocking his head, he listened for the sound of carriage wheels.

None came.

Sliding to the ground, the black-clad figure pressed his ear to the sandy earth. A smile snaked over his lips when he heard a distant rumble.

“Our little pigeon moves on fleet wings this night, Diablo. Less than four miles away, I believe. We must hurry.” The highwayman looped Diablo’s reins about a heavy yew shrub, then scanned the lower bushes.

The fallen log was just where he’d left it.

He dragged the ragged length of timber out into the road, positioning it where it was most visible. He was careful that the log would lie exactly in his path as he raced down the hill. With a grim smile on his lips the scourge of Norfolk remounted. He inspected his pistols and tightened the straps to the satchel carried behind his cantle. After that he checked the rifle slung in its leather case. As he was finishing, his grizzled accomplice ghosted up the far side of the slope, a black scarf muffling his features.

“So pleased that you could attend me, my friend.”

“Humph. If I didn’t like you half so much, I’d surely put a shot through your grinning face, boy. You need to be taught a lesson or two.”

The highwayman laughed softly.

His amber eyes glinted as he eased his mask in place and sat back to wait.

~ ~ ~

Barely eight minutes later a carriage rounded the bend in the sandy road, hurtling north toward King’s Lynn. An armed guard rode at the back, and a rifle hung in a sling beside the coachman.

So they were taking no chances, were they?

Blackwood eased a gloved hand over Diablo’s neck. As he calculated the best course of approach, two heads emerged from his cape pockets. “Not yet, my beauties,” he whispered, tucking the two ferrets back into their safe haven.

When the coachman saw the log stretched across the road and reached for the brake, the highwayman was ready. As the carriage brake screamed against the wheel rims and the guard jumped down, Blackwood nodded sharply to his accomplice and eased Diablo over the crest of the hill.

His rifle glinted in the moonlight. “A disagreeable night for travel, sirs. Perhaps I might be of assistance.”

“Great God above, it’s
Blackwood!”
The coachman froze in his seat. The guard, however, spun about and leveled his rifle.

With one cool shot the highwayman sent the rifle flying. “That, my friend, was most ill advised. I suggest that you listen well or my next piece of lead will find its way between your eyes. You will both drop your rifles. Then, coachman, you will lower the carriage steps. After that you will both place yourselves flat on the ground. If you make the slightest deviation from my order, you will find yourselves regretting it.”

His accomplice, a long-suffering man named Jonas, appeared at the far side of the carriage. His pistol was trained on the guard, who dropped his weapon and lay flat. The coachman followed, stiff with fear. Jonas caught up the reins and jumped to the horses’ heads, holding them steady. All the while his rifle rested over his arm, in case of any trickery.

“Very nicely done, my friends. Now I believe I shall make the acquaintance of your passengers.” The highwayman opened his pocket. The two ferrets skittered down the saddle and jumped to the ground. Smiling, he watched their sleek bodies race over the ground and disappear into the shadows beneath the carriage.

Only then did Blackwood ease Diablo toward the darkened coach. His pistol leveled on the glass pane. Inside, the curtain swung back and forth.

“Open the door!”

No answer. The curtain went still.

“You choose to be difficult?” Blackwood backed Diablo up and trained his pistol on the coachman. “How many travelers do you carry, man?”

“T-three.”

“Men or women?”

“One m-man. Others be female, sir.”

Abruptly, shrill screams erupted from the carriage. The door was thrown open, and a very plump and much rouged female emerged, one hand clutched to her heaving breast. “A beast! A rat with snapping teeth, I tell you! Don’t shoot me, sir. I’ll give you whatever you wish, only save me from that monstrous beast!”

Smiling faintly, Blackwood signaled the woman to the ground beside the coachman.

In the opened doorway another woman appeared, her head ringed with feathers and her stiff shoulders covered in a fine shawl of Norwich silk. “I am unarmed, sir. Pray do not shoot me.”

“I do not shoot innocent females.”

The woman gave him a suspicious scowl as she clasped her reticule before her. “How do I know I can trust you?”

“You
don’t.
Now on the ground with you, right beside your friend there.”

The woman in the feathers sniffed. “Her? She is no friend of mine, I assure you. Besides, I do not care to have my gown muddied. I would prefer to stand.”

“Alas, your preferences are of no interest to me.”

“How dare you! Of all the horrid, insolent—”

Without warning a black shadow emerged on her shoulder. A moment later sharp little teeth snapped the fine cords of her reticule, which fell straight to the ground. There the ferret dropped and snatched it up.

“Well done, my pet. Over here with you.”

Squeaking loudly, the well-trained animal streaked over the ground, shot up Diablo’s back, and disappeared into his master’s pocket.

“You damned foul thief! I’ll have the law on you, that’s what!” The woman’s voice echoed, shrill with fury. “And when they hang you, I’ll be there laughing, do you hear?”

Blackwood clicked his tongue. “What language for a gently bred female.” His voice hardened. “Down to the ground with you. Unless you’d care for a bullet in those proud white shoulders of yours.”

The woman gasped. After a quick, uncertain look into the carriage’s interior, she turned. Suddenly her whole bearing changed. Her hand slid to her neck, easing back the silk folds of her shawl to display a brazen expanse of décolletage. “On second thought, perhaps we might reach some sort of arrangement, sir. I am not averse to discussing how our
interests
might be joined to better advantage.” One white hand settled upon her full breast, clearly outlined against the sheer muslin of her gown.

“Indeed? And what exactly do you offer in return, madam?”

The woman’s eyes glittered. Beneath lowered lids she surveyed the highwayman slowly, from masked head to black-clad toe. “Perhaps I should leave that up to
you,
my lord.”

Blackwood felt a tug of distaste. “A thousand apologies, but I fear I must refuse your so estimable offer.” He gestured with his pistol. “Now down on the ground with you before I lose all my patience.”

The woman’s face set into hard lines of fury. Grasping her skirts, she flounced down the carriage steps and lowered herself to the ground beside the others, muttering all the while.

“Very nicely done. My compliments to your instructor of deportment.”

The woman’s angry answer informed the highwayman
exactly
what he could do with his compliments.

Blackwood laughed softly and then his mouth hardened. “Now for our last traveler.” His pistol nosed toward the shadowed door. “Outside with you! I grow unamused with this little drama.”

A man’s face appeared in the doorway. His frock coat screamed Weston and the gleam on his new boots hinted at champagne used in their blacking. His face was long and haughty, its thinness emphasized by his chiseled nose.

He sniffed, waving a square of Belgian lace languidly as if to ward off noxious odors. But there was nothing languid about the dark eyes that scrutinized Blackwood and the four people lying on the ground. “So I finally meet our great highwayman.”

Blackwood made an ironic bow over Diablo’s head. “And whom do I have the honor of addressing, sir?”

“I do not think my name need interest you,” came the frigid reply.

Metal glinted in the moonlight. “There we differ. I repeat, whom do I address?”

“Renwick, damn you.
Lord
Renwick.”

Blackwood’s mouth lifted in the ghost of a smile. “I perceive I am meant to be impressed.” He eased back in the saddle, all insolent ease. “Very well. You will now join your companions on the ground, Lord Renwick.”

The man scowled. His right hand moved toward his pocket.

An inch of smoking lead drilled through the carriage wall beside Renwick’s head. “An unfortunate decision, my lord. Should you make another of the same, my next ball will find its mark more painfully and you will never move again. You should also note that the longer you make me wait, the worse my mood becomes.”

“Very well.” With icy disdain the aristocratic traveler made his way to the ground as directed. Under the watchful eye of his compatriot, Blackwood swung down and made his way into the carriage. He ran his fingers over the cut velvet seat cushions, but found no hiding places. And then from the shadows came a shrill, excited squeak.

“What is it, my little one?”

A small, furry face nudged his hand, then darted back to the floor. Slowly Blackwood followed the wooden seat frame with his fingers and was rewarded with the outline of an inset panel. “Well done! Can you open it?”

For answer the ferret scratched at a piece of metal jutting out from the floor. With a faint scraping sound the panel receded, revealing a cubbyhole set well back beneath the seat. Inside it Blackwood found two loaded pistols, a leather satchel, and a purse that clinked with the sound of gold sovereigns.

The satchel was what interested Blackwood most. Renwick had Admiralty connections and access to military information. Should Blackwood ever need to bargain for his life, that information might prove very useful.

But there was no time to examine the satchel’s contents now. With a grim smile the highwayman pocketed the lot, then smoothed his ferret’s sleek pelt. “In with you, too, rascal. Wouldn’t want you to terrorize our guests.” The highwayman eased the black ferret down into the opposite pocket from the animal’s mate.

Only then did Blackwood make his way back outside.

Renwick eyed him coldly. “You’ve nothing to show for your pains, rogue. I am not so foolish as to carry my wealth on my person.”

“Quite right.” Blackwood shrugged. “I can see exactly how clever you are, my lord. Yes, you have flouted me neatly. I can see I will have to be more inventive in the future
.”

He sketched a deep bow and was just turning to remount when a warning shout came from his compatriot.

He swung about as a shot whined over his shoulder. Instantly another hissed from the second barrel of the miniature pistol Renwick had been concealing up his sleeve.

Fire burned along Blackwood’s ribs. Cursing, he loosed a ball of his own and sent Renwick’s weapon spinning off into the darkness. “Most ill-judged, my lord.”

“The only ill-judged thing was my
aim,
you scum! Had I another pistol, you’d feel more of the same!”

Blackwood’s lips curled. Without a word he held up the purse he’d taken from the coach. Metal clanged brightly against metal.

“Damn you, how did you find it?”

“I cannot take the credit.” Two pointed faces appeared at the mouth of Blackwood’s pockets, whiskers quivering, bright eyes agleam. “Take a bow, my beauties.”

“By the devil, what are those?”

“Meet Lord Renwick, little ones. And you, my lord, meet Stand and Deliver, two of the finest felons in all Norfolk.” The scar at Blackwood’s mouth gleamed coldly for a moment. “Next to myself, of course. And now I believe we shall require the use of your carriage.” Blackwood looked across at his companion. “Tie your horse behind and take the reins.”

“B-but you
can’t!”
the woman in the red feathers sputtered. “We — we’ll be stranded out here for hours. Maybe all night!”