Patrica Rice (12 page)

Rollings nearly choked before he could reply to that ingenuous question. “No, Miss Griffin, he is not. Much as I hate to leave three such charming ladies, I must beg my excuses. Duty calls, you know. Good-day, ladies.” He bowed and took his mount with a graceful swing of his long legs.

The ladies watched him go before Jane broke the silence. “Isn’t he just the most handsome man you ever saw?”

“I am currently not interested in men,” Miss Griffin announced. “I am quite out of charity with the whole gender. Why, even your Robin Hood could not be bothered to stop my carriage, and I had a pistol all loaded and ready for him.”

This time it was Daphne’s turn to choke. Laughter welled up in her throat and kept bubbling outward despite her best efforts. She thought it could very well be hysteria. Imagine Evan Griffin throwing open the carriage door in his best Robin Hood manner to find his own sister pointing a deadly weapon at him! Oh, what a tangled web ...!

“Miss Templeton, are you all right? Have I brought back terrible memories? Gordon was so certain that you came to no harm .... Please, let us take you back to the house.”

Daphne waved off any offer of assistance but turned to lead the way back to the house. “I am quite fine. The thief does not normally stop carriages, only inebriated young men. Do not feel yourself slighted.”

“Then why did he rob you? I so wanted to be as brave as you and show Gordon I am no longer a child.”

Why her? That was an excellent question, one Daphne had not resolved yet. She lifted her shoulders lightly. “It must have had something to do with Lansbury’s crest on the door. Perhaps he had some grudge against Lord Lansbury. I did not think to inquire at the time.”

As they reached the front entrance. Daphne realized what had been bothering her since her first introduction to the lady, and she turned to inquire bluntly, “How is it that you and Lord Griffin do not wear mourning for your brother, Miss Griffin? Do not mistake me; I am not criticizing, only curious.”

A shadow passed across the lady’s face, but she replied honestly enough. “We had only gone into half mourning from our father’s death when Evan was killed. Gordon convinced us that Evan would not want us to return to black on his behalf. As his twin, he knew best, so we all followed his advice, for Gordon’s sake, if no other. I doubt that I saw Evan above twice since I left the schoolroom, but he and Gordon were very close. I remember Evan as a jolly fellow, always eager for a lark. I do not think heavy mourning would have impressed him.”

“I’m certain you’re right. Forgive me for prying. I am growing much too used to country ways, I fear. Will you be staying long? We really must arrange some entertainment for you, if so.” Daphne led the way into the small parlor.

Melanie gave a deep sigh. “Gordon is very angry with me for appearing unannounced. He said it was a shatter-brained notion and he had half a mind to send me back to grandfather, post haste. Gordon has ever been a high stickler, so I assume it’s my shocking impropriety that has him in the boughs. I cannot imagine that I have interrupted anything improper on
his
part.”

“That will not do at all,” Jane exclaimed. “We shall have to speak to Lord Griffin and persuade him you are needed. I am certain he is glad of your company. He just feels obliged to act as a head of the household should.”

As Lady Agatha joined them and the ladies all made plans for picnics and musicales and how they would persuade Lord Griffin to come around, Daphne remained relatively silent. She remembered all too clearly Evan’s anguished groan at the appearance of his sister.

She rather thought Gordon might have a more pressing reason than asserting his authority to send his sister home. There was no doubt that something was going on here, and apparently the danger was more than she had supposed. What would she have to do to persuade the brothers to let her lend a hand? And why on earth should she be so interested in becoming involved in what was, after all, not her business?

She could blame it on Gordon’s kiss, but she had become much too involved even before that. She refused to think of Evan’s ungentlemanly conduct, and she had no right to consider Gordon’s attentions as anything more than a mild flirtation. Surely a London gentleman would have heard all the rumors about her mother and herself and would assiduously avoid her were he considering anything but a flirtation. So she couldn’t take his attentions seriously.

Yet she shared the twins’ concern over their sister’s arrival. It was preposterous, of course, but she could not encourage what she knew would dismay the elder Griffins. She wasn’t even certain if it was for Gordon’s or Evan’s sake that she was reluctant to press Miss Griffin to remain. It was confusing to the extreme.

* * * *

That night, while Daphne debated the wisest course, she heard the sound of rapid hoofbeats on the road outside. Carrying a candle to the window, she wished she could see out, but the night was no more than a velvety darkness broken by an occasional gleam from window or lantern. The moon was in the wrong portion of the sky for her to even discern it.

But she could hear perfectly well over the nighttime silence. The hoofbeats thudded from the road onto thick turf, and now there seemed to be more than one set. Surely Evan wasn’t chasing some poor victim across Aunt Agatha’s property.

She caught herself, wondering why she would grace a common thief with the courtesy of a gentleman. That thought was interrupted by a violent explosion. Daphne jumped, startled, and tried once again to scan the night. A horse whinnied, and she thought she heard a man’s curse. The heart-stopping noise sounded again, and this time she identified it clearly. A pistol!

This wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all. Hastily, she sat down and tied on the slippers she had just discarded. Thank goodness she had not yet begun to undress. It would have been better if she had not given her maid the night off, but she could make do without her. She doubted if her aunt or the servants in the far side of the house had heard the noise, but perhaps someone was still up and about.

She slipped hurriedly down the stairs, wondering if she ought to rouse a groom or footman to accompany her since none seemed to be still awake. Not that she knew where she was going or what she was looking for, but she sensed something terrible was happening, and she had to find out what it was.

No doubt that was a sign of incipient madness. So be it.

The house was dark. Everyone had retired long before her, when Aunt Agatha did, as was their custom. It didn’t matter. She could find her way out without trouble. She had learned all the obstacles that might interfere with her progress and how to avoid them.

She slipped out the side door, which required only a turn of the key in the lock. Aunt Agatha’s lax security could be found in every house in the shire. A true thief would have no trouble stealing a king’s ransom in a few ambitious nights if he felt so inclined. That was one case in favor of the band in the woods. They couldn’t be real thieves and ignore the wealth lying around to be had for the taking.

Outside, the night breeze tugged at her hair as Daphne hurried along the garden path she had learned by heart. She heard voices now, muffled and indistinct, but definitely more than one. She tugged her shawl more closely around the thin muslin of her gown and slowed her pace. She could do nothing against a band of men. What was happening out there?

She halted in the shadows of a tree and watched as a horse and rider emerged from the shrubbery to return to the road. Even in the darkness she could discern the glitter of steel and the blur of a red coat. Soldiers!

Heart in throat. Daphne watched as several more figures emerged on foot from behind the high hedgerows along the road. The man on horseback cursed at them, and gathering her courage, she crept closer. She had to know what had happened.

The men in the road wore uniforms, too, and she could hear one of them protesting, “We shot at him, just as you said to! Henry and me both shot, but he kept on going, flying that great black beast over a wall it woulda taken wings to fly. If you’d a’ let us use the rifles ...”

“We don’t want him dead, you bloody fools!”

Daphne recognized that commanding voice at once. Captain Rollings. It didn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to know what had happened here tonight. The soldiers had set another trap, and Evan had ridden right into it. They had shot at an unarmed man!

“We winged him, I know we did. I heard him curse as that beast of his got away. Want us to start beating the woods after him?”

“And have his gang come out and make fools of us all? You don’t know these parts as they do. We’ve lost our chance to take him this night. Let’s head back.”

Daphne trembled as the sound of voices trailed off down the road. Winged him? Did that mean what it sounded like? If he were wounded, would he head toward the Griffin estate and help? Or would he hide himself in the woods to prevent pursuit? Foolish question.

Agonizing inside, she picked her way back across the lawn. How could she possibly find him at night? The darkness pressed around her as it had that long-ago night when her mother had died. It needed only the crack of thunder to bring her quivering to her knees. She might walk as far as the hedgerow dividing lawn from pasture and woods without harm, but beyond that, she would be at the mercy of the unknown.

Remembering the dance they had shared just the night before, Daphne felt tears prick at her eyes. Perhaps Evan Griffin was misguided and ill-humored and many other things, but he could be kind, too, and gentle. She wouldn’t let him die in the woods. She had to get help for him, somehow.

Hurrying back inside, she picked up the candle she had left by the door and went in search of her aunt’s medicine chest. She knew there were salves and ointments in there, but she was too terrified of her own daring to stop and examine them. There were a few folded bandages, too, she remembered. Perhaps she ought to bring some old linen from the mending basket, just in case.

By the time she had filled a basket with all the supplies she could think of, the candle was ready to gutter out. She couldn’t carry it outside, but perhaps a lantern ...? The soldiers had said they were going home. Would a lantern hurt? It would feel so much better out there if she could have some light. One day she might grow accustomed to these nighttime fears, but not just yet.

Deciding a lantern would be the most practical course, Daphne lit one from the kitchen, then set out for the woods. Her teeth chattered with fear, but she could not possibly return to her room and sleep and leave a man lying injured somewhere in those cold woods.

She tried desperately not to jar her weakened knee as she maneuvered gardens and pasture carefully. The shadowed outline of the trees ahead gave her direction and she concentrated on them and not the darkness around her. She could have no idea where to go once she got there, but she would think of something. If they were any kind of thieves at all, they would see her coming.

As it was, they did better than that. Before she was halfway across the field she met a shadow coming toward her. Not until he was practically in front of her could she discern the limp and know his identity. Breathing a sigh of relief, she waited for Rhys to catch up with her.

“I was coming for you, miss. It’s not bad, but he needs looking after.’’ Rhys glanced down at the basket on her arm, and then up to the remarkable woman holding it. She was no more than a slip of a girl, and the way she held her head, he knew she was terrified, but she had come blindly all this way without being asked. An emotion he had not felt in a very long time threatened to crack his composure, and he hastily reached for the basket. “Let me take this. Can you find your way back to the house safely?”

“You may carry the basket, but I’m coming with you. I’ll be the judge of how bad it is. He’s a stubborn man, and I daresay whatever your position is, it won’t allow you to go against his orders. I have no such qualms.”

The limp betrayed her as she stumbled over a grassy tussock. Rhys grimaced and hurried after her. He could have argued with her. He could have outrun her and left her to wander alone, but she had the right of it. Evan might not listen to anyone, but he couldn’t keep Miss Templeton from acting as she saw fit. If a physician was required, she would be the one best able to arrange it.

Silently, Rhys took the lantern and closed it, then placed her hand on his arm for support over the rugged ground. “Lights attract too much attention, Miss Templeton. It will be safer this way.”

They moved cautiously across the fallow field to the shadows of the trees. Daphne no longer shivered now that she knew what to expect. She didn’t know why this Llewellyn person came to be here at this hour of the night instead of filling his post on the Griffin estate, but she wouldn’t quibble with fate. She was grateful for his company.

A guard rose out of the bushes to intercept them, but recognizing Rhys, he stepped aside, and they went on, entering a small clearing. A fire had been built inside the entrance of a small cave where it couldn’t easily be seen, and a lone figure lay propped in front of the flames, preventing more than a corona of light to escape. Daphne bit back a gasp of dismay at thus seeing last night’s gallant gentleman once more reduced to a thief in the woods. She would never read another Robin Hood tale again. The romance did not erase the reality.

Evan glanced up and at the sight of his visitor, cursed and tried to scramble to his feet. Rhys hurried forward to hold him down.

“Deuce take it, man, I told you to sit still!”

The authoritative ring of the Welshman’s voice caught Daphne by surprise, and she watched him with a new respect as he settled Evan back to the blankets. Cautiously, she approached bearing her basket.

“Are you out of your mind to bring her here? The place is probably crawling with soldiers.
Get her out of here right now,” Evan hissed, deliberately ignoring Daphne’s presence.

“They’ve returned to town. It’s much easier to drink a pint of ale and talk about the one who got away.” Daphne moved into the circle of light and brushed Rhys aside as she lowered herself to the blanket to examine the hastily tied bandage on Evan’s shoulder.