Page 14 of Fortune Favors the Frivolous
Hurrying towards a large elm tree, Caroline tried to melt into the shadows. Oh, why hadn’t she taken cover deep within the gardens and allowed herself to be swallowed up by the dark?
Because she’d been too afraid of being swallowed up by the dark. Instead, she’d planned to slip into the house when, presumably, Lord Windermere departed and find refuge somewhere warm and safer than the great outdoors.
But of course, Lord Windermere would need to satisfy himself as to how three great heavy projectiles could have been flung into the room in quick succession.
“There he is! Get him!” his lordship barked, stabbing his thumb in Caroline’s direction.
The baron didn’t even bother to move, for his minions reacted so quickly and with such stealth that as Caroline sought to disappear into the shadows, one of them snatched her roughlyby the arm before dragging her, struggling and whimpering in pain, to his master.
And as Caroline lay in a heap at Lord Windermere’s feet, his shadow falling over her like a dark promise, she had to wonder how tonight’s adventure—for her, at any rate—had gone so terribly, catastrophically wrong.
Chapter Seven
With the windwhipping through his hair and the cold biting at his cheeks, Henry could only imagine the discomfort Venetia was enduring. The night had grown bitter, and the earlier rain had left the air damp and penetrating, chilling them both to the bone.
She was barely clinging onto the horse’s mane as they thundered over the rutted road, the animal’s labored breathing creating plumes of vapor in the frigid air, visible whenever they passed beneath the scattered moonlight filtering through the racing clouds. But the fear of Windermere making enough ground to intercept them was greater than any worry about Venetia’s comfort.
A murderous villain wanted to kidnap and make her forcibly his wife. If there had been any objection to Henry whisking her off like that, she’d have made it clear. No, she did not want to be Windermere’s wife, and if Henry could only ensure she was safely under chaperonage before daylight, her reputation would be safe.
Lord, if he was caught with her in the middle of the night, her reputation would certainly not be safe, he thought with a stab of fear that twisted in his gut. Honor might require him to—
He forced the thought away, focusing instead on the road ahead. In the distance, thunder rolled across the hills, promising more foul weather to come. The land around them seemed eerilyempty, the occasional farmhouse dark and shuttered against the night.
He closed his eyes briefly as he went over the enormous risks he was taking. For a good cause, of course. And doing the only thing a gentleman would do.
But the thought of what might be required of him if they were discovered under such circumstances could not be dismissed. Granted, he liked the girl enormously. She was delightfully entertaining. Well, that’s how he remembered her from Lady Pendleton’s house party, though she had grown extremely subdued lately. And he remembered that they shared a sense of humor. But he did not want to marry her. He didn’t want to marry anyone.
Well, maybe he’d make an exception if Caroline decided she wanted to make an experiment of it. But perhaps that would be making a grave error of judgment and confusing the easy camaraderie of youth with the more serious business of forging a life together.
There wasn’t much time for thoughts like these in between avoiding the potholes and treacherous ruts while trying to put ground between them and Lord Windermere. A man as determined as he would have someone only a few minutes behind them as they saddled a horse and struck out in pursuit. Even now, Henry could almost feel their pursuers’ presence like a shadow at their backs, driving them forward into the uncertain night.
Every few minutes, Henry twisted his head to look over his shoulder at the road behind them, the darkness seeming to shift and move with imagined threats. Each time, he was relieved to see it empty, though the moon’s inconsistent light made it impossible to be certain. The open paddocks on either side were tempting in order to shear off into the woods in the distance, the dark silhouettes of trees offering the promise of concealment,but the danger of uneven ground in the poor light was too great a risk. One misstep could spell disaster.
“Argh!” Venetia screamed as the horse stumbled on the uneven ground, and she was nearly dashed out of Henry’s protective arms. Her cry pierced the night, seeming to echo across the empty landscape, and Henry instinctively tightened his grip around her waist.
“Do you want me to stop?” Henry shouted, but couldn’t hear her answer above the sound of thundering hooves and his own thundering heart. The wind carried her words away, leaving only the urgent rhythm of their flight.
So he kept going. And when he saw a wood to the north with a narrow path off the main road, shadowy and uninviting but promising secrecy, he changed course at the last minute, unsure if they were being observed but believing this the safest course. The horse balked momentarily at the sudden turn, sensing perhaps the uncertainty of the path ahead, before responding to Henry’s firm guidance.
He wished Barnaby had decided to come after all. At least one of them could have got Flash to safety, but he supposed the lad was used to the dark and couldn’t be too far from his home. He’d hitch a lift on a wagon if he were lucky.
Still, Henry did feel bad. There had been something about the boy—something oddly familiar that nagged at the edges of Henry’s consciousness, though he couldn’t quite place it.
Now that they were off the main road, the urgency didn’t seem as great and, with an easing of his high tension, Henry slowed his mount. Tree branches reached overhead like grasping fingers, occasionally scraping against his shoulders as they passed beneath. He wasn’t quite sure where they were, but from the top of a hill a little way back, he’d seen the lights of what he suspected was an inn or hostelry. If he could rouse someone, they’d have a comfortable bed for the night. Henry could ensureVenetia’s safety while he scouted around for some solution to their plight.
As the horse’s canter turned to an easy gambol, Venetia straightened her position upon the pommel, twisting her body to look up at Henry. The moonlight caught the tear tracks on her face, silvering them against her pale skin. He thought she was about to ask him to set her down, but her face was twisted with anguish as she cried, “You’ve got to go back there, Henry!”
A terrible fear gutted him, cold and sudden as a blade. “You wanted to marry Windermere? You were really eloping?” The words tasted bitter on his tongue.
“No, no!” she cried, her voice trembling. “Nothing fills me with greater fear than that prospect, but—”
Her words were cut short by the sound of a pistol shot ringing through the night, the report echoing through the trees with frightening clarity. A rough voice cried, “Put the lady down or I will shoot your horse from under you!”
Venetia’s scream nearly deafened him, her body tensing against his chest as if trying to make herself smaller. Henry’s heart lurched painfully as a dark figure materialized on the path behind them, the moonlight glinting off what could only be the barrel of a pistol.
But there was no earthly way Henry was going to do what the villain demanded. He had to rely on his speed and agility together with the gamble that their pursuer was not going to risk putting a bullet through the lady’s heart. If Windermere were so desperate to have her as his bride, he was not going to be too happy to have her dead before he got her down the aisle.
“Hold tight!” he shouted to Venetia, whipping up his horse once more when he’d assured himself she’d gripped the pommel tightly in preparation for another bracing race across the countryside. The animal responded magnificently, surging forward with renewed energy despite its earlier exertions.
