Page 33 of The Hired Hero
Caroline eyed the big black stallion. “Surely, Nero can’t carry both of us for long.” Her expression turned speculative. “Such a magnificent animal—he must be worth a handsome sum.”
Davenport scrambled to his feet. “First you tried to steal Nero, then you nearly got him shot. Don’t even think of trying to sell my horse!” He took up the stallion’s reins and gave him a fond pat. “Besides, it so happens that I do have an idea.”
Ten
Lucien cast a harried glance at his uncle, whose countenance had gone nearly red with fury. “I daresay General Wilmott would dispatch a party of men to take us to the coast if it were at all possible, sir.”
The duke smacked his fist into his palm and muttered something under his breath.
Outside the tent, another cannon boomed. The young viscount began to pace up and down in the confined space. “May I ask why it is so important to get home?” he asked in a hesitant voice.
The duke looked up, and for the first time his nephew could remember, there was a look of helplessness in the older man’s eyes. “I fear that if we do not reach England right away, a number of people are going to be in grave danger—and the first one may be Caroline.”
“Caro has used her wits to get out of more scrapes than you can imagine,” answered Lucien, with more bravado than he felt. “She is well able to take care of herself, Uncle Henry—I can vouch for that.”
“Would that I could believe that,” he murmured. “You are not aware of all she is up against. It appears there is a traitor somewhere…”
There was a sharp intake of breath.
“Yes, quite.” The duke pulled a face. “It wasn’t until we landed in Brussels that I learned of the danger. By that time, a vital document was already on its way to me in England. Our adversary knows of it and its importance. I can only hope my own letter reached Roxbury Manor in time to keep Caroline well away from trouble. Whoever the traitor is, he is both cunning and ruthless.”
“You… you think he would harm Caro?”
“I have no doubt of it, just as I have no doubt that Caro will not shirk from the danger.”
Lucien’s hands balled into fists at his side. “Damnation. What can we do?”
“For the moment, we can only appeal to the Almighty, Lucien.”
* * *
The gentleman rippedoff the silken mask and tossed it onto the seat beside him. What the devil did the bloody earl think he was doing? Was the man completely foxed at this hour in the morning? For, surely, he wouldn’t have risked his own neck out of any sense of honor or duty. That thought gave cause for his frown to deepen. His underlings were paid handsomely enough not to miss with their shots.
This was the second time his coachman had failed. It would not go unnoticed.
His silver-tipped walking stick rapped at the trap, and he snarled a curt series of orders before falling back against the squabs. The carriage sprang forward.
Time was of the essence, and he had now wasted far too much of it on playing cat and mouse with the duke’s daughter.
Hewouldhave that document.
With an effort, he brought his temper under control. The two of them couldn’t get far on one horse, and the big stallion was a fine enough piece of horseflesh to draw notice wherever they stopped for rest. With a grunt of satisfaction, he realized he had no real cause for concern. There was no way that they could slip through his net of informants.
She wouldn’t elude his grasp next time—he would see to it himself.
* * *
Davenport tiedthe stallion inside the tiny mews and took Caroline by the arm. They made their way through a narrow alley and emerged on a small side street, in front of a narrow building, its timbers and stone darkened with age. A stout woman in a mob cap and voluminous apron that was once white answered the earl’s knock. Her eyes narrowed as she took in the appearance of the two rather disreputable-looking people who were standing on the front steps.
“Whatcha want?” she asked suspiciously.
“Is Mr. Leighton in his rooms?” inquired Davenport.
She hesitated, clearly recognizing the voice was that of a gentleman despite the dirty and disheveled clothes. Though her expression indicated she had her doubts, she stepped aside and motioned up a set of narrow stairs. “Top floor.”
They walked up four flights and knocked on a warped door that strained against its flimsy latch.
A muffled oath greeted the sound. There was a slight shuffling, the rattle of glasses and another low curse before the door flung open, barely missing the earl’s nose.
