Highway Revenge Page 7

  Suddenly, and rather inexplicably, Evelyn Spencer’s lovely face planted itself firmly in the forefront of his thoughts.

  Andrew allowed himself a few seconds of imagining her dark doe eyes, her soft golden curls, her becomingly flushed cheeks before reminding himself more firmly than he should have to that she was off limits and very likely to be hiding something.

  Mr. Spencer cleared his throat, and Andrew’s eyes darted to the older man, worried that he had somehow been able to read Andrew’s less-than-pure thoughts about the man’s niece. But Spencer’s eyes remained shut, and, even if they hadn’t been, the man had shown no particular interest in his niece’s welfare.

  Andrew frowned with remembered anger at Mr. and Mrs. Spencer’s treatment of Evelyn. It was none of his business, of course. But it galled his gentlemanly instincts to see her be treated shabbily and to do nothing about it.

  He would feel thus about any lady being mistreated, he tried to convince himself. And this baffling desire he had to protect her and whisk her away from any and all sort of harm was a product of his excellent manners and nothing more.

  The fact that he’d never experienced such a thing before — well, that was neither here nor there.

  Andrew was just starting to contemplate a nap himself, if only to pass the time, when suddenly the carriage rocked to an abrupt halt, and he heard John Coachman call out to the horses to stop. The sudden jolt even awoke Mr. Spencer, and the man began to bluster incoherently, but Andrew shushed him with the raise of a hand.

  Someone was talking.

  “Occupants of this carriage,” sounded a voice outside, “out — now!”

  Andrew felt the familiar surge of adrenaline leap through his blood as he indicated to Spencer to remain inside the carriage.

  Checking that his pistol was hidden within his greatcoat, he moved to the door.

  Perhaps tonight wouldn’t be so boring after all.

  To panic would be foolish in the extreme, Evelyn decided as she watched Lord Ashdon raise himself to his full height.

  Her mind whirled rapidly as she tried to adjust her plans for the robbery.

  She couldn’t let this opportunity pass her by, and yet, this was a problem. Over six feet of handsome, infuriating problem.

  The devil take his eyes!

  “Good evening.”

  Evelyn, who had been peering at the carriage, awaiting her uncle’s arrival, jumped at Ashdon’s pleasant greeting.

  For heaven’s sake. They weren’t meeting in a London ballroom! She was holding him up. Had he no respect for propriety? Or, at least, for a decent robbery?

  “Be silent!” She commanded and flinched at the squeak in her voice. The squeak. Again. This was going from bad to worse.

  Ashdon raised a sardonic brow, and Evelyn wanted to fling her pistol at his smug face.

  Where on earth was her uncle?

  “Is there someone else in there?” She waved toward the coach with the pistol before training it back on Lord Ashdon.

  He stared at her.

  She waited for his answer.

  He stared some more.

  “Well,” she finally snapped after an uncomfortable silence, “is there?”

  He stared more still.

  “Answer me, damn it!” She practically screeched, taken aback at her own language but valiantly keeping up the pretence of a hardened criminal. Or, at least trying to.

  “Forgive me,” he finally answered, all politeness. “I thought you had ordered me to be silent.”

  Evelyn bit the inside of her mouth to keep from roaring in frustration. He was a cad. An absolute, utter cad. How was a highwayman to make a living if he came across dolts like this one every night?

  She was so exasperated that she forgot to maintain her character and did not notice her thick local brogue that she had worked so studiously to perfect, begin to disappear.

  “Just tell him to get out,” she bit out.

  “Who?”

  “What?”

  “Who?” he repeated.

  “Who what?” she repeated.

  He gaped at her as if she’d run mad, and she glowered back at him, furious that he’d ruined her robbery. The oaf.

  “Who is to get out?”

  She frowned in confusion.

  “Out of what?”

  It was his turn to frown, and Evelyn tried desperately hard not to be distracted by the unruly lock of hair that fell over his brow. She was new at this, but she didn’t think a highwayman would be inclined to brush hair back from the face of his victims, tempting though it may be.

  “Out of the carriage,” he said slowly, as though speaking to a particularly stupid child.

  “What?” she asked, distracted by that bloody hair and quite forgetting what they were talking about.

  There was a moment’s silence as they took it in turns to scowl at each other before, finally, he spoke again.

  “Am I to assume that this is your first robbery?”

  Evelyn felt both panicked and affronted.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Well, you just don’t seem terribly good at it,” he said, still in that exasperatingly polite tone of voice.

  “Well, you’re not giving me a chance,” she exclaimed petulantly. “I haven’t even properly started yet.”

  It began to dawn on Evelyn that this probably wasn’t the usual way a robbery would go. Not only that, but she had intended to disguise herself as a man as much as she could. She suspected, though, that Lord Ashdon was well aware of her lack of—

  Well, he must know she wasn’t a man.

  Evelyn risked a glance at John Coachman, who had remained unfalteringly quiet. He looked baffled by Evelyn and Ashdon’s exchange. He even looked slightly amused, which did nothing for her temper.

  This was becoming farcical.

  What was he even doing here?

  “Well then, by all means, continue,” Ashdon said with a mocking bow.

  Evelyn released a heavy sigh and a quick, whispered prayer for patience. It was time to get this situation under control.

  “Thank you,” she responded automatically, then could have kicked herself when he smirked.

  “Right, well, anyway—“She began feeling more than a little flustered. “—get the other one out of the carriage, and we’ll get on with it.”

  “Who?”

  “What?”

  Ashdon rolled his eyes, and Evelyn gritted her teeth in response.

  “I do hope we’re not going to go through this again,” he said. “To whom are you referring?”

  Evelyn glared at him once again — she was doing that a lot — and answered crisply. “Your travelling companion,” she snapped.

  “What makes you think I am travelling with a companion?”

  Evelyn froze as she realised that he’d managed to rattle her so much she was forgetting that she shouldn’t know who was travelling in the carriage.

  “I — uh, assumed th-that you would be,” she answered weakly.

  That brow rose once more, and Evelyn again had the urge to throw something at him.

  “That’s a clever assumption,” he answered.

  “Er — thank you.”

  This was getting more bizarre by the second.

  There was yet another silence, and Evelyn could feel Midnight getting more and more restless.

  “Well, are you going to get him out?”

  Ashdon stayed quiet for what seemed like an eternity as he studied her intently.

  “I am tempted to continue our fascinating conversation,” he said calmly.

  So calmly, in fact, that she failed to notice as he slipped a pistol of his own from his greatcoat. When it was suddenly pointed directly at her, however, she noticed.

  “Alas, we really must be on our way. Pressing business in Town. So, if you’ll excuse us?” He signalled to the driver to climb atop the coach, all the while keeping his gun, no doubt loaded unlike her own, steady and aimed straight at Evelyn’s chest.

  Eve
lyn felt her jaw drop open at the audacity of the man. She couldn’t speak, or even move for that matter. This entire debacle had spiralled wildly out of control. Now she had a gun trained on her, her uncle was still safely ensconced in the carriage, and the papers would be gone to London and out of her grasp forever.

  “Stop!” She screeched so loudly that poor John yelped in fright, and even arrogant Ashdon snapped to attention. “You are not leaving this place until everyone in that coach has come out and emptied his pockets,” she continued, her breathing harsh as her frayed nerves finally began snapping.

  “I’m afraid I can’t allow that.”

  Although he hadn’t raised his voice nor changed his expression, Evelyn was filled with an immediate dread. His tone had all at once taken on an edge of steel, his face granite-like and unyielding, and she was instantly afraid. Whether it was because he was a powerful Peer or because he exuded that raw masculinity that both fascinated and scared her, Evelyn didn’t know, but she was suddenly looking at a very powerful man who was used to having his own way.

  That’s all well and good, she told herself, trying to rally her courage. But you need those papers.

  “I’m afraid you have no choice,” she responded.

  Once again, he scrutinised her until she squirmed, and then he took a step toward her.

  “Get back!” she cried. And there was that damned squeak.

  He took another step toward her. Evelyn was reminded of their encounter in the hallway where he’d acted like a jungle cat in pursuit of his dinner.

  “I mean it,” she said. “Do not take another step.”

  He took another step.

  And just like that, the last, tiny remnants of her temper disappeared.

  “You arrogant, overbearing, bloody cad. Why will you not just be a gentleman and let me rob you?” she screeched.

  Midnight, spooked by her outburst, reared up, and Evelyn dropped the pistol in her lunge for the reigns to steady the frightened horse.

  Once the animal was under control, she realised with a dawning horror that Ashdon had noticed her loss of weapon.

  Time stood still as she gazed at him, awaiting his shot or, at the very least, her captivity.

  She would be exposed. And her life would be ruined.

  Ashdon took another step toward her, his gun never wavering, his hand rock steady. When he had reached Midnight’s side, rather than pull her down or demand she dismount, he leaned closer still and spoke in a fierce undertone. “I do not know who you are or what you are about, but an occupation such as this is no sort of occupation for a woman. Especially a gently bred one as I suspect you are.”

  Evelyn almost fell off the horse in shock. How did he know she was gently bred? She’d been practising her accent all week! And if he was speaking to her so, did that mean he did not intend to capture her?

  “Leave this place,” he continued, completely unaware of her inner turmoil. “And stay out of trouble. Your next victim may not be as forgiving as I.”

  Without another glance in her direction, Ashdon turned on his heel and strode back to the carriage.

  Evelyn remained stock still as the carriage pulled away and thundered into the distance.

  What had just happened?

  Not only had she just been completely outsmarted, but now, racing away through the night, was her only chance to avenge her father.

  Andrew waited until John had brought them a goodly distance before he rapped on the ceiling to bring the carriage to a stop.

  Never in all his life had he been in such a peculiar situation, and his instincts were screaming that there was something about that robbery, aside from the total ineptitude of the robber, that didn’t add up.

  Mr. Spencer had been particularly flustered by it, especially considering the man hadn’t lost so much as a guinea.

  And although he protested that he was merely shaken by the incident, Andrew suspected otherwise. For one, Spencer kept patting his coat pocket, as if to make sure something precious were still there. For another, Spencer was proud and arrogant enough to clamber out of the coach and give a set down to anyone who would dare rob him. Yet he had remained inside and seemed genuinely afraid, more afraid than the situation warranted, especially when it was obvious that their would-be thief was nothing but a young lady. Probably a bored young lady, up to mischief.

  Andrew felt his lips lift in a grin as he remembered the bizarre exchange with the woman, but he quickly supressed it. He needed to get to the bottom of what was going on here and not be distracted by memories of the spirited young lady and her clumsy attempts at criminality.

  Besides which, he had one baffling attraction to deal with already in the form of the dainty Miss Evelyn Spencer. He had neither the time nor the inclination to be inexplicably attracted to another odd little miss.

  He studied Mr. Spencer closely for some moments, taking in the darting eyes, the perspiring brow, and the tapping of that pocket before speaking.

  “Mr. Spencer, you are rather pale. Has the experience overset you so?”

  Spencer snapped his eyes to Andrew’s, and they were slightly wild. Another oddity.

  “I-I, well, of course I am overset. We could have been killed, man!” Spencer exclaimed.

  “Hardly killed, sir. ‘Twas merely a slip of a girl.”

  “Even so. If she’d gotten—“ Spencer came to a sudden stop, as though realising that he’d been about to say something he shouldn’t.

  During his years working for the Crown, Andrew had learned when to push for information and when to subtly get it from someone. If ever there was a time for subtlety, it was now.

  “Perhaps we should return to the Park, Mr. Spencer. And allow you to recuperate.”

  If anything, the man’s skin grew paler yet.

  What on earth was going on here?

  Andrew’s mind darted to Evelyn Spencer. Between Spencer’s odd behaviour and his pretty niece’s, there was a bigger secret than he thought hidden at Spencer Park.

  “No. No, we should continue on. There are, ah, matters which need to be settled. Matters of some urgency,” Spencer said, his hand creeping once more to his breast.

  There was something in that pocket that he was eager to leave in Town. It was doubtful that he’d manage to get it past Andrew in Town, but it was a risk he’d rather not take. If Spencer was hiding something in that pocket, Andrew wanted to get him back to the manor house as soon as possible. It would be much easier to investigate the matter if they were in the relative close quarters of the Spencer estate.

  Was Evelyn Spencer somehow involved in whatever was going on? And the highway robbery, by a woman no less… Surely something so odd would need to be looked into.

  Andrew tried to convince himself that his desperation to hunt down the highwaywoman had nothing to do with the swift and powerful tug of attraction he’d felt to the masked miss.

  But, he was honest enough to concede, he wasn’t any more convincing in that than he was in his efforts to ignore his attraction to Evelyn Spencer.

  Releasing a sigh, he turned his efforts to convincing Spencer to return home.

  Had he really thought this visit would be boring? A mysterious secret, a mouse of a girl with the tongue of a serpent and a highwaywoman? He’d never been in a less boring situation in his life.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Evelyn hadn’t slept a wink, which was no surprise, really.

  How could she? How could she have even so much as closed her eyes when her life had just become a monumental catastrophe?

  She had absolutely no idea what to do now. Should she just give up? Should she run away to London and try to track down Uncle Geoffrey’s rogue solicitor? So far, the only thing she was sure of was that Lord Andrew Ashdon had fast become the bane of her existence, and she was well on her way to despising him.

  The weak autumn sun began to attempt an appearance, and the clock chimed the hour. Far too early for most of the family to break their fast, but that was perfect for Evelyn. She
needed coffee and food, though it was likely to turn to sawdust in her mouth. But it was sustenance and she needed sustenance if she were to think on what to do next.

  The silver lining in all of this was that she would no longer have to pretend to be a highwayman. The experience had been less than enjoyable and certainly nowhere near as romantic as she had imagined it being.

  Bloody Lord Ashdon and his interference and distractingly beautiful eyes.

  Well, there was no point in harping on about it now. It was done, and it was time to move on.

  What on earth had she been thinking, being a highwayman anyway? She’d never even taken an extra teacake in her life!

  Ringing for Molly, Evelyn decided that she would move on to the next plan and put the whole, sorry mess behind her.

  As for whether she would continue her plans for revenge, that was something that would be decided with a clear head and a full stomach.

  The breakfast room was mercifully empty when Evelyn entered it sometime later.

  Molly had taken one look at her and run off to find lotions and potions to hide her sleepless night. Evelyn had never been vain but, from the horrified shriek of her maid, she imagined the sight of her wasn’t a pretty one.

  Now, bedecked in a pale, mint-green walking dress, her hair pulled up and dressed with a matching green satin ribbon, she looked at least halfway presentable.

  “A man would go a long, long way without seeing beauty like yours, Miss,” Molly had announced a she fetched a shawl to battle the cool, autumn air. “So we may as well make the most of it.”

  Evelyn was going to ask to whom she was supposed to be attracting, but she was afraid the answer would be Lord Ashdon, which was insane, so she’d stayed quiet and allowed Molly to have free reign over her.

  Signalling to the waiting footman to fill her cup, Evelyn went to the sideboard and began to pile her plate with eggs and ham. She’d never been one to shy away from a hearty meal, and worrying, apparently, made her ravenous!