The Random Gentleman (16 page)

The Duke, it must be admitted, was also convinced that he would impress his sentimental little love. He was resolved to be very gentle, very protective—and wondered with a rueful grin if she had also hired a bravo to let her hero demonstrate his mettle.

Still smiling, he reached the barn at the Old Farm whose location he had had Dolby, his groom, discover from the inn ostler well before nightfall. In the dusk he made a careful reconnaissance of the building and terrain and found no evidence of any recent habitation or current preparations for a dramatic encounter. He brought Ben into the barn and put him well out of sight in the farthest stall. The he essayed the rickety ladder leading up to the loft, found it barely climbable, and tested the flooring of the loft itself. It was in his mind that he might perch up there in a position to observe who entered without being noticed.

As the time passed, the Duke wished he had brought along the cigars he had at the last moment given Dolby to hold for him, thinking it would not do to warn the chit, or her supporting actors, if any, that he had already arrived by filling the air with the aroma of tobacco. He began to find the waiting a dead bore and was almost ready to climb down to investigate further, when one of the barn doors swung creakily open. At first the Duke could not make out who the newcomer could be. Then a lantern was lighted, revealing the figure of Bracho. The gypsy held the lantern above his head and called out quietly, “Miss Belinda? Are you here?”

A little qualm of unease stirred in Dane’s mind. Rising, he leaned over the edge of the loft. “She is not here yet, Bracho. Are you her accomplice in this little scheme?”

Quebracho relaxed when he heard the note of amusement in the big man’s voice. “Yes, sir, I am helping the little lady play her game. I might have known you would not be taken in.”

“What is to happen now?” asked the Duke.

Quebracho stared up at him in the gloom. “She has not come to the camp. I was to lead her here, tie her up, and stay out of sight until you arrived, then slip quietly away. I thought perhaps she had ridden directly here.”

Dane’s feeling of alarm was stronger. “She did not come to the camp at the time arranged?”

The old man shook his head.

“Could you or she have mistaken the meeting place?”

“It is possible,” admitted Bracho. “She had first intended to go to the fisherman’s hut at Spaniard’s Cove—but I thought I had persuaded her to change her mind. Still, she might have gone there by mistake.”

“Will you tell me how to get there, and then wait here for her in case she has been delayed?”

The old man hesitated. “I would very much rather that it was I who went to the Cove, sir, and you who waited here.”

“What is this ‘sir’? Am I not your friend Peregrine?”

“I believe a
part
of that,” smiled the old man. “But I repeat, friend, let me be the one to go to the Cove.”

“What, and spoil the child’s scheme?” protested the Duke. “What a dastard it would make me, to hang back while you effect her rescue! Why do you hesitate?”

“Because tonight Anton and some of our men are moving the brandy from the hut to a safer, less conspicuous place in the woods. I would not have them discover you while they are engaged in that activity.”

“They might resent my presence,” agreed the Duke lightly, but his feeling of alarm was stronger than ever. What would happen to the girl if she were discovered by a group of Free Traders, nervous at the work they were doing, and quite likely to strike before asking any questions of an intruder? And even if they realized the intruder was a girl, would they accept that she was the Earl’s granddaughter and treat her gently? She had introduced herself to them as a poor relation of the Sayre family. Would that be enough to protect her?

The Duke made up his mind. Swinging down quickly from the loft, he walked over to where Ben was waiting. “Describe me this Spaniard’s Cove, Bracho. Perhaps, if I hurry, I can reach it and make sure she is gone before your men arrive. Are you sure this is the night? I had not thought the Gentlemen went about their affairs in bright moonlight.”

“It is because most people, including the Preventives, hold that very thought that The Whip has planned his move for tonight,” grinned the old man. “It would be quicker if you took the highroad back to the camp. There, get one of the boys to lead you to the Cove. Tell him Bracho sent you to help. I’ll wait here a little longer for Miss Belinda then meet you at the Cove.”

Quebracho congratulated himself on a clever solution. The boys in the camp would naturally offer all the delaying tactics possible, and Bracho would reach the Cove well before the Englishman.

They parted with mutual goodwill.

Chapter 17

The Duke, very much on his guard, rode down the track toward the ocean. He had not been suspicious when, on arriving at the camp, he had found a grinning gypsy boy waiting to take him to the new rendezvous. The boy informed him that the lady had changed her mind, and that he had been detailed to conduct his honor to the Cove. The Duke had noticed, during the days that he had spent on the road with the tribe, that this youngster, a pert and cheerful rascal, had been frequently in mischief but never vicious or sullen. He was more than willing to accept the lad as his guide. They had struck out at once, the boy running ahead on foot, following a path through the woods.

The Duke set Ben to a canter, reflecting with some amusement on the undeniable pleasure the whole race took in a trick. The more fantastic and absurd the prank, the better the gypsies liked it. Especially if there was money to be made! The Duke wondered how much his devious little love had given them to enlist their support in this ridiculous
espiéglerie
of hers. It might be diverting to find out.

“How much did—er—Miss Oliphant pay you to lead me to her prison?” he asked, abruptly enough to disconcert a more seasoned campaigner than the boy.

The lad only chuckled as he ran tirelessly beside the Duke’s horse. “Oh, nothing, your honor!” he retorted. “It is reward enough to serve so pretty a lady!”

“Sauce!” said the Duke. “I suppose I must ask one of your elders and betters, if I would get a sensible answer.”

“Now that, your honor,” panted the child, keeping up so gamely that Dane in very pity slowed Ben to a walk, “puts me in mind of one of our tribal stories. Would you like me to tell it to you?”

Grinning, the Duke took a coin from his pocket and tossed it to the boy who caught it deftly.

“The story goes,” the boy began gleefully, “that a fine gentleman—as it might be your honor, sir!—asked twenty gypsies the same question, and got twenty different answers.”

“That is a story?” mocked the Duke.

“Not all of it,” chuckled the boy. “This noble Gorgio then asked
one
gypsy the same question twenty times—and still got twenty different answers!” He shouted with laughter.

“There is no doubt you were born to be hanged,” said the Duke, also laughing, “and I should know better than to ask even one question of your supple-tongued race. I am surprised that Quebracho sent such a devious guide.”

The small dark face turned quickly up to his. “Quebracho?” the boy repeated. After that he had nothing to say.

It was then that Dane became suspicious. It was a feeling he had learned to trust during the war, and later, in the course of negotiations with foreign agents. It was not always an infallible guide, but it had several times put him on guard in time to prevent a disaster or save a delicate situation. Yet when he tried to analyze it, he could discover no menace in the actions of the child. He was completely unable to accept that the gypsies had really kidnapped any member of the Earl’s household, no matter how distantly related. The old general’s writ ran strong in the county, as the gypsies knew, and in all England as well. Woe betide any man who harmed a member of that old fire-eater’s family! Why, then, this warning sense of trouble ahead? The Duke began to ask himself if he had been a fool to come upon this romantic errand without even so much as a pistol for defense. Well, perhaps forewarned would be forearmed!

He frowned and reined Ben in when he came in sight of the hut among the rocks. The cove, so effectively sheltered between high cliffs, was a perfect spot for smugglers—or for an ambush. The sturdy little shed had all the marks of a depot, with its well-contrived air of disuse and dilapidation. And yet—the moon, now well above the eastern horizon, gave so much light to the scene that one could not imagine any clandestine activity succeeding. The Duke could have seen at a glance if ten men were milling around on the beach. There was no one in sight. The Duke shrugged and followed his guide toward the hut.

“I’ll hold yer
groi
,” offered the child, too eagerly.

“Ben doesn’t take kindly to strange grooms,” said Dane quietly. “He might savage you if he thought you were playing me false.”

“I would just hold him ready for you while you unlocked the door.”

The Duke rode right up to the heavy wooden door and bent to examine it. “There is a heavy padlock here. Do you not have the key?”

“No,” the boy admitted. “Didn’t she give you one?”

“She?”

“I mean—Quebracho.”

Before the boy could move, Dane was out of the saddle and had him firmly by the shoulder. “I think we had better get this straightened out,” he said softly. “And I am not asking you twenty questions! I am telling you to give me a few true answers to this wild-goose chase. Why is the hut locked? Is the Earl of Sayre’s granddaughter inside? Have you Roms harmed her?”

After the last questions, the boy’s face, which had been set in stubborn lines, suddenly appeared surprised.

“The old Tartar’s grandchild? Oh, no, we’d none of us mess with her! There’s only that silly mort who works in his kitchens, that came to see you one day at the camp—”

“That,” said the Duke grimly, “was Miss Belinda Sayre, the Earl’s granddaughter. I am asking you for the last time if she is locked in this hut, and if you have the key?”

Shock had driven all the mischief out of the boy’s face. “No, sir, I haven’t! Lara told me it was only—”

“Lara! Good God, what’s she done to Belinda?” Loosing the boy, the Duke strode over to the door and wrenched at the lock. It was stout, and stoutly installed in solid oak. He looked around for a tool, a rock, anything to force it. The knowledge that the spiteful gypsy wench had maneuvered them all into this situation had shaken him. Congreve had said it:
nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned
— and Lara considered herself very much scorned. Not knowing the real identity of Miss Oliphant, the gypsy might have tried to do the other girl an injury. It must have seemed a perfect chance to get revenge upon a man who’d refused to play her little game—and in refusing, had left her open to humiliation in front of the whole tribe.

Frustrated, the Duke pounded on the heavy door. “Belinda! Are you in there?”

Man and boy waited, breath held, for an answer. For a long moment there was no audible sound, and then a pounding came dully through the wood.

“Hold on! We’ll have you out in a minute!” The Duke ran over to Ben and led him right up to the door. Stripping off his own long, fashionable neckcloth, he threaded it through the hasp and tied it in a hard knot. He tied the other end to Ben’s saddle. Mounting, Dane put the stallion into a slow pull. For an agonizing interval, nothing happened, and then the lock was wrenched out of the door. The gypsy boy cheered. Ignoring him, Dane dismounted, untied his neckcloth from the saddle and ran to push the heavy door open.

The inside of the hut was in total darkness. However, there was a muffled sound. The boy, hovering in the doorway, said quickly, “Bound to be a lantern here somewhere—smell it?”

“Get it,” ordered the Duke, getting out flint and steel.

In a moment they had the lantern lit. “Still warm,” the Duke said, and then he caught sight of the small bound figure of the Earl’s granddaughter, and all else left his mind. Thrusting the lantern into the boy’s hands, Dane reached the girl in two strides. He bent to undo the ropes which bound her, ordering the boy to bring the light closer. When nothing happened, he cast an irritated glance over his shoulder to discover the lantern reposing on the splintered wood floor and the empty doorway opening into the dark night. The boy was gone.

Smothering an oath, the Duke turned again to the business of freeing Belinda. First he removed the gag and was rewarded by a heartfelt rendition of his name. Both of them.

“Perry! Dane! I am so
thankful
to see you! You must leave me at once!”

Amusement warmed his eyes as he flashed her a glance before returning to the task of undoing the ropes. “If you are so glad to see me, in whichever role I am playing, why must I leave at once? Surely I may stay long enough to free you, little love, for I do not wish to insult Ben’s rigid sense of propriety by carrying off a bound and captive maiden upon my saddle—or perhaps it would be more accurate to say, his saddle.”

“Do not be a fool!” advised his little love severely. “I am trying to warn you that we shall be facing half the gypsy tribe within minutes—and they’ve been told you are a Preventive officer!”

The Duke’s body tensed, but he continued to unwind the rope. “Is this so, indeed? Who can have given The Whip that particular piece of information?”