Page 166 of Harpy of the Ton
Bella’s gut twisted with fear as she recognized Thomas’s voice, and she spurred the horse into a trot.
“Stop—poacher! Or I’ll shoot!”
Footsteps crashed through the undergrowth.
Bella urged the animal into a canter, heading for the gate at the far end of the field, and she could almost have cried with relief when she spotted the road beyond.
Then a sharp crack filled the air.
The horse reared up with a loud whinny, then surged forward. Bella tugged at the reins, but her mount continued to gather speed. The animal sprang forward, and Bella felt a brief moment of weightlessness as they cleared the gate. Then the horse shuddered as its back legs clipped the top of the gate. The animal crashed forward, throwing her to the ground, then righted itself and galloped off, disappearing into the night.
Before Bella could move, another shot rang out.
“Come back, you thieving bugger!”
Footsteps approached, accompanied by wheezing.
“Bastard,” Thomas panted. “Thought I’d got ’im.”
Lighter footsteps joined the first. “You shouldn’t have shot him, sir,” a second, lighter voice said. “That was no poacher—poachers don’t ride horses.”
Bella heard the sound of a slap, followed by a sharp cry.
“Don’t be insolent, boy. They could have stolen one of the master’s horses.”
“The poachers are in the forest, sir. I—Ouch!” The boy yelped at another slap.
“Witless boy!” Thomas replied. “They’ll be long gone by now—I’ll wager my arse on it. Be off with you!”
“B-but you said I could have something to eat if—”
“Ifwe caught the poachers, boy. You should be thankin’ me for not beating your hide for sending me on a fool’s errand.”
“And you should have gone to the forest.”
Heavens, was the lad brave, or simply foolish? Thomas wasn’t the sort to take kindly to challenge—the poor boy would find himself at the wrong end of a whip if he continued.
“We may still catch them, sir. The duke thinks ever so highly of you—he’d bound to reward you. I want no reward other than knowing I’m doing my duty.”
“And a bite of somethin’ to eat, no doubt,” Thomas said, his voice mellowing.
“Only if we catch them, sir.”
“Very well—but we’ll check the stables first.”
Thomas sniffed, then hawked and spat. Then the heavy clomp of his footsteps faded into the distance, followed by his companion’s lighter tread.
Bella waited until she could no longer hear them, then she tried to stand. Pain shot through her ankle, and she stumbled against the gate, wincing as it creaked. For a moment, she clung to it, her heart hammering, but there was no sign she’d been heard.
But without the horse, she had no means of escape. If Thomas was headed for the stables, it was a matter of minutes before her flight was discovered. If the next village was an hour’s ride away, she’d never make it on foot.
In the opposite direction, she spotted the spire of Ilverton Church silhouetted against the night sky. She might be able to lodge at the inn—provided she wasn’t recognized—and wait for the next London coach. She reached for her reticule, uttering a prayer of thanks that Connie had had the foresight to secure it around her neck. Drawing her cloak around her, she limped toward the village.
*
By the timeBella reached Ilverton, her ankle felt as if it were on fire. As she approached the inn, raucous laughter erupted from within. A door burst open and a man stumbled out, reeking of ale. Grinning at her, he stretched out his arms.
“What’s this? A wench to keep old Jakey warm? Come here, my lovely!”
