In the carriage, Char’s chaperon gave a warning tutting noise, but did little more than fan herself and watch eagerly. In Dru’s opinion, the woman did far too little to put a stop to her charge’s behaviour, even when there was not a pistol drawn.
Hendricks had pulled the coin purse from inside the bag and was feeling the weight of it in his hand. ‘This will do nicely, I think. I will not take from your companion. If she has any money, she will need it more than you.’ He glanced over his shoulder, gauged the distance and tossed the purse expertly up to Dru, who loosed the strings and counted the substantial curl of notes inside.
‘If there is anything else you want sir, you are welcome to it. As long as you spare my life and my necklace.’
She’d said nothing of her innocence, Dru noted. And now Char was batting her eyelashes as though she had cinders in her eyes.
Mr Hendricks gave a little laugh and reached to undo the bottom of his mask. ‘Then you shall sacrifice a kiss, my dear, and I will go on my way.’ And then he put his lips upon hers. It was hard for Dru to see past the edge of the mask and the red haze forming in her own eyes. But it appeared that he had opened her mouth. His mouth was open as well. There was much movement and what looked like mutual chewing.
The coachmen were nudging each other and chuckling where they lay on the ground. The rate of the chaperon’s fan increased, as though she was about to overheat in the closed carriage.
Now Char was making little noises in the back of her throat that sounded suspiciously like moans of pleasure. Her body trembled and her hands clutched urgently at Mr Hendricks’s coat, as though she wished to crawl inside it with him.
And Dru felt sick, wishing that she could call the last few moments back and beg bread from farm wives as he’d first suggested. Her petty desire to take revenge on Charlotte might have gained them the money needed to finish the trip, but it had earned Charlotte a conquest.
And Char had got her kiss. If she had only chosen the right words a few moments ago, she would be the one bent over Mr Hendricks’s arm. It would be her mouth he’d opened. And she would be the one shuddering in ecstasy and hanging from his lapels.
Instead, she had offered him money.
Dru stared down at the purse. Then she pocketed the bills, which were more than enough to get them to Scotland and back, and let the little bag drop again to the ground. She gave her horse a little kick that caused him to shift uneasily and stamp the thing into the mud at his feet.
When she looked back to the road again, Mr Hendricks was setting Char back upon her feet to more ineffectual noises from the companion. Dru could see the look of dazed happiness on the face of her sister’s friend.
She felt the strange, hot feeling again, in her cheeks and lower. Her throat felt flushed; the fabric of her shirt seemed to chafe at her breasts. And in the tight confining cases of leather there was a spot between her legs that seemed to pulse and burn and make her want to leap from the horse and rip the breeches from her body.
Now Mr Hendricks had secured his mask again and was helping Charlotte back into the coach. Then he ran to his horse, springing easily into the seat as though invigorated by the robbery. He tipped his hat again. ‘Thank you, my lady.’ And then, another tip of the hat for the chaperon. ‘Apologies, ma’am.’
The casual courtesy annoyed her almost as much as the kiss had. How many times had she experienced that polite, dismissive attention from an attractive man, only to have him turn back to Priss?
‘And now, I must be going.’ Mr Hendricks looked back to the coachmen. ‘See to your mistress, gentlemen. And if you are smart, you’ll take your time about it.’ Then he spurred his horse up the hill towards her, and they were off, into the open country, far away from the road.
They rode for some time without stopping; she ripped off her mask when he did and followed him without question. But her mind was seething and her body still in turmoil. If there was such a thing as a chaperon’s corner for highwaymen, she had been left there tonight, holding an empty gun instead of her knitting. As usual, the real excitement was occurring close enough to be seen. And, as usual, no one had wanted her participation.
Mr Hendricks pulled up suddenly in the shelter of a copse of trees. Then he reached into his pocket and retrieved his glasses, looking through them and polishing the lenses. Without her having to ask, he supplied, ‘I stayed not far from here, while growing up. There is no reason to ride blind. But it was pleasant to learn that I still know the roads well enough for pranks such as this.’ He adjusted the spectacles and gave her a dark look. ‘Not that I mean to pull any more of them.’ Then he held out his hand for the money and counted it.
‘And no more robberies should be necessary. This is enough that we might hire a carriage for the remainder of the journey. Once we reach Lancaster you may put on skirts again and travel properly, as a lady.’
As though that would matter to him, for she doubted he thought any more of her than he had of the unfortunate young lady fanning herself in Char’s carriage. ‘I do not have to put on skirts again, if it is more convenient to proceed as we have been.’
‘I should think you’d be happy for the chance to ride in comfort. We can resume a normal rate of travel, rather than tearing across country, higgledy-piggledy.’ He looked off in the direction of the northern horizon. ‘Although we will keep it up for some time yet. There is a short cut I know that will bring us out on the road far away from the carriage we have just visited and closer to the one you seek.’ He glanced back at her, taking in her unusual costume. ‘The night is clear and I do not expect pursuit. We shall stay as we are and sleep under the stars. But tomorrow, it would be better that you were a woman again and I take back my hat and coat.’
‘If I were a woman?’ This was even worse than being ignored. It seemed she had lost her gender altogether, with a simple change of clothes.
‘If you were dressed as one,’ he corrected. ‘Of course, I know you are a woman.’ He laughed in a funny, awkward way that did not match his earlier self-assurance.
‘Do you really?’ Suddenly it was very important that he say it aloud.
‘And my employer as well,’ he added quickly. And this was worse than neutering her. She might as well have been another species. But to choose now, of all times, to remind her of the distance between them was particularly cruel. ‘If I am so far above you,’ she snapped, ‘then I am surprised that you think yourself entitled to choose my attire.’
A difference in their stations had not mattered a bit when he had been kissing Char. And the fact that she employed him did not mean that she was without feeling. She had a good mind to show him … to prove to him … to make him see …
Something. It was as if there was a word on the tip of her tongue that she could not quite remember. But she was sure that, whatever she meant to say, it was a uniquely female thing that everyone had learned but she. And if she’d asked Char or Priss what it was, they’d have looked knowingly one to another and then laughed at her.
She was tired of sitting in the corner while others danced, and even more tired of watching others being kissed in the moonlight. And beyond everything else, she was tired of Mr John Hendricks looking through her and holding another woman in his arms.
He was looking at her, aghast, and she wondered if some portion of her thoughts could be read on her face. Then he said in a mild, servile voice, ‘I only meant that if any are searching for two daring highwaymen, they will not recognise them in us, should you choose to don a dress.’
It was so perfectly rational, and had so little to do with her femininity or his awareness of it, that she felt a complete fool. So she pulled herself together, gathered what little respect she had left, and answered just as reasonably, ‘You are probably right. It is time to put this foolishness aside and behave properly.’
But her heart said something far different. Before the night was over, she would teach the man