GypsyDukeEpub (35 page)

After nearly an hour of riding, John noted that Ardaix had become increasingly grey in the face. The wounded arm, though bound, showed signs of fresh blood. They would have to stop and apply a proper binding as Ardaix was too stubborn to ask for assistance.

John reined in, and Robert gave him a questioning glance. He flicked his head toward Ardaix, and Robert nodded with comprehension. It was fortunate that years in each other's presence made them attuned to each other.

When all the horses had stopped, Robert moved closer to Ardaix. "Michel, give me a hand here. Your father is bleeding like a stuck pig."

Ardaix tried to scowl at them both, but he just wasn't up to it.

John turned his head. He wasn't ready to feel anything for the man that had saved his life then callously told him he was a gypsy bastard. In turning away, he was brought face-to-face with Rasvan.

The others couldn't hear his low voice as he leaned across his saddle toward John. "It's nice to see you wouldn't let father bleed to death."

John stared at Rasvan for a moment then simply nodded his head and moved away. They all saw too much. He was cursed with the most intuitive friends a man could have. Why couldn't he keep just one secret from someone? Did they have to ferret out every detail of his life?

"Somerset," called Robert.

John scowled. That wasn't even his title, not any more. He didn't know who he was.

"What is it?"

"You should take a drink yourself. It's hot, man. Wouldn't do a'tall for you to drop on the side of the road."

John accepted the jug that Robert threw at him. What was his Kitty doing for a drink? Had they placed any refreshment in the coach? He didn't think so, and his need to find her increased.

"Let's ride."

Before another hundred meters, Michel called a stop. John watched as Michel walked his horse to the side of the road. He felt like telling him to be on his way, but Michel did nothing without a reason. When he raised his head and gestured, John wasn't surprised.

On the ground, neatly laid out, rested a patteran, complete with customary white stone to symbolize their clan.

"Have you seen any white stones here?" asked Michel.

John shook his head. He hadn't been looking for white stones, but there were none about now.

"Would Kitty have brought them with her?"

Robert moved closer, bending over the side of his horse for a better look. "What is that?"

"A gypsy road map," answered Michel. "Like a signal, indicating what direction a gypsy is traveling." He turned back to John. "Did you teach her?"

John shook his head at the same moment Ardaix spoke up. "She spent the morning with Maria. Maria would tell her. It's the sort of thing women think about. Directions."

The others laughed, and John almost joined them until it hit him. Here was a clear indication of Kitty's presence. They would split up now.

He reached down and picked up the white stone, mounting his horse with a dismissive look at Robert. "We have taken you in the wrong direction from Paris. You better ride back."

"But we'll talk first." He turned his horse in the direction they'd just come and rode a ways in the distance.

John followed him. He had a few questions he'd like answered before Robert left.

They eyed each other for several seconds before John spoke. "How is it that you came up with Ardaix as my father? That was a bit of a stretch, don't you think, even for you."

"I wondered if you'd notice. I was guessing, to be frank. There's something I see that you cannot."

"What might that be?"

"The duke had brown eyes. Ardaix has blue...just like you. Hair black as midnight with shocking blue eyes. An odd combination. Come to think of it, so does that fortune-teller. Now wouldn't that beat all if Csinka was your grandmother?" Robert laughed.

John saw nothing amusing in the notion. He had a sinking feeling that Robert was correct. The two people who had opposed him the most were related to him.

"I know that look. What are you thinking? Never say you intend to give up your inheritance. You are Somerset. It belongs to you. And there's Kitty to think of as well."

He liked Robert much better as the bumbling fool he pretended to be. "You see too much, and you're wrong. It doesn't belong to me. My uncle…"

"Would lose everything in a short time. The duke knew this. Why else would he have claimed you as his own and left everything to you?"

"Why, indeed?"

Robert reached out a hand to grip John's arm. "I urge caution, John. It's not a light thing to renounce one's inheritance. Consider what the gossip would do to Kitty and your mother."

His mother! Yes, that was a thought. If she really was his mother, then she and Ardaix…He couldn't even begin to understand how that happened.

John laid his hand over Robert's. "I thank you for your friendship. I will do nothing lightly. You have my word."

"I'll send a message when I find him."

"I'll send someone after you as soon as Kitty is safe."

Robert offered him that silly salute and made to ride off. "Cheerio! Kiss Kitty for me."

John smiled. The bumbling oaf had returned.

"Kiss her yourself when you return. One kiss, anyway."

Robert's laughter trailed behind him as John watched him ride away. There was no one to act as buffer between him and his newfound family. But he wouldn't focus on those thoughts. He had to find Kitty.

As the day progressed, John's admiration for his little wife grew. No meek, retiring woman did he have. He had a capable girl. At every intersection, they found either another patteran or a white stone.

And John collected each one. He would present them to her when he got her back. A silly gesture, perhaps.

He grew more concerned about Ardaix. Now they knew they were on the right track, they rode harder. Ardaix hadn't complained once, but he looked terrible. The jolting ride on this rough terrain prevented the wound from closing, and they couldn't leave him behind. The road wasn't busy, with half the countryside hiding from Wellington's advancing troops, but the men they did pass didn't look the sort with which you'd want to be caught alone.

No one bothered them because they rode in such a large party. Ardaix alone would be an easy target. He wondered how Robert was faring, but he couldn't worry about that. Robert had his wits about him. Ardaix was injured.

And he was losing far too much blood for such a simple wound. They would have to stop. It was nearing dark, anyway. They wouldn't be able to see Kitty's signals.

The thought of his wife alone with another man after dark alarmed him more than he could say. He had to find her.

The sun was setting when the coach slowed to a sudden stop. Before the wheels had even stopped turning, she saw Newport's face at her side window. "Can you shoot a pistol?"

"Quite easily."

He thrust two pistols at her, both loaded. "I think we're in for trouble. I saw a party of riders ahead, and this is obviously a fine coach. Keep your head about you. If I go down, shoot to kill. They won't be lenient with an aristocratic lady."

A frightening thought! With the French revolution over, did peasants still hate the aristocracy? No matter, if the French were anything like the English, a robber would attack a coach without outriders.

She hid the pistols under the folds of her dress. Newport had climbed back atop the coach and whipped the horses to a good speed. Perhaps he thought he could outrun the other men.

It seemed an unwise scheme, but between the two of them, what choice did they have?

When a shot fired in the distance, Kitty felt a cold dread settle in her stomach. Newport slowed the horses, yelling down to her. "This is it. Make each shot count!"

After that, general mayhem ensued with a good amount of yelling she didn't understand. The coach turned about then suddenly, they were moving again.

What was that man doing?

She braced herself to lean out the window, but what she saw seemed a miracle.

John raced after her, beating the sides of his horse to urge it on.

She banged on the roof of the coach and yelled at Newport. "Stop, you idiot. Stop. If you keep going, he'll shoot you for sure."

She wasn't sure if he heard, but the coach slowed and finally stopped. Instead of the warm reunion she'd anticipated for hours, she heard a maelstrom of activity above her as John leaped from his horse to tackle Newport.

They went rolling off the coach with a loud thud.

She opened the door and climbed down, shouting all the while. "John! John, stop!"

Neither paid any heed.

She heard the sound of horses and jerked around to discover Michel, Rasvan, Ardaix, and the suspected traitor. Before Kitty could ask for assistance, Michel and Rasvan jumped in to separate the two fighting men.

Kitty rushed to John. A minor cut on his lip showed red, but Newport would have a black eye before too long. Both men breathed hard as they glared at one another.

Michel dropped John's arm so he could embrace Kitty. He crushed her against his chest, one hand clutching the back of her head, the other running up and down her back, as if checking to see that she was really there.

He pulled her head back. "Kitty, did he hurt you?"

"He was a perfect gentleman. John, I really think you should speak frankly with him."

"What! Why?"

Kitty wanted him to smile at her again, so she reached up and kissed him. When she tasted the blood on his lip, she pulled back. "Are you all right?"

"Of course."

He would never say otherwise, especially not with an audience. She smiled, taking out her handkerchief to dab carefully at his mouth.

"You suspect each other. Perhaps someone else is to blame."

Kitty gave Newport a passing glance, which he must have taken as an invitation to speak.

"Your wife is correct. I believe we've been set against each other for a reason," he paused for a moment. "And what's this about my stealing your estates? I've never owned an estate in my life. I have a small farm left to me by my mother's family. Nothing else. Explain yourself, Somerset."

John advanced toward the man, but Kitty held resolutely to his arm. She didn't want them coming to blows again.

"When we first spoke, you said my properties would be protected from my uncle. How is it they've been sold out from under me...my tenants thrown out as well?"

Newport's astonishment was plain for anyone to see as his jaw dropped. He shook his head. "I have no knowledge of what you say. If you'll remember the conversation, it was Sir James who promised to protect your lands. He is the only one with the power to do so." He thought for a moment. "Are you saying you've lost your duchy?"

Kitty looked at John. She would like the answer to that as well. A strange look passed John's face before he answered. Even then, he looked first at Ardaix, who responded not at all.

"Somerset Park is the only property left to me."

That was a relief. Kitty took a closer look at Ardaix. He appeared to be falling over. "John! Ardaix…"

John jumped forward in time to catch the gypsy. He lowered him carefully to the ground then looked around their group with concern. "We cannot stay here." He glanced at Newport. "We saw the coach from
the top of that last hill and rode across the fields. There is a contingent of soldiers approaching this position."

"French?" asked Kitty.

"Yes, I don't think they'll be too concerned with us, on the retreat as they are, unless they realize we're English. We have two distinct disadvantages...a bleeding man and a prisoner. Neither of which will go well for us."

Newport rushed to Ardaix. "Help me get him in the coach. We will say we are an armed escort for you and your wife...that your father is ailing, so we're taking him south to a doctor. We can throw a lap rug over him."

Kitty surprised another odd look on John's face as he turned to Ardaix, but she helped them settle Ardaix then focused her attention on John's appearance. His once pristine costume left much to be desired as a duke.

He allowed her ministrations for a moment then captured her hand in his own and kissed it. "I'm sorry."

She smiled at him. It was such a relief to have him beside her.

"For what? There was nothing you could do about what has occurred."

"I am sorry for so many things. When this is over, we must have a serious discussion."

She batted her eyes at him. "Why do we not instead have a serious encounter?"

He smiled slightly, but he looked more doubtful than pleased.

She didn't have time to wonder about John's mood. The first of the French soldiers caught up with them.

As any concerned French citizen would do, Newport, on horseback beside the coach, called out to them. "How goes it? Are the English advancing?"

"Mais ouis. The devils are pushing us back."

"Has Wellington broken through the lines then?"