The rage in his gut unfurled like a dragon full of fire, heat rushed up from his belly. He took a deep breath. It wouldn’t help. When she didn’t say anything, he fished around for a way to break the silence. ‘I’m sorry you got dragged into this.’
‘I don’t suppose you have a knife?’
He didn’t like the way her gaze raked the interior of the coach. ‘Please, Ellie, whatever you do, no heroics. Trust me to get you out of this and follow my lead.’
Nor did he like the way her determined chin came up in challenge. ‘Do you have a plan?’
‘I’ll take advantage of whatever opportunity is offered.’
She curled her lip. ‘An excellent plan.’ She turned her head to gaze out of the window.
‘Sarcasm won’t help.’ He huffed out a breath. ‘Ellie, believe me, I won’t let my uncle harm you.’
‘He killed my brother. For you.’ Her voice was husky. She turned her head slowly. The glitter of tears she’d tried to hide with harsh words cut a swathe through his heart. She’d been so brave up to now and to see her spirit leach away weighed heavy on his soul. Nor could he think of a word to say in his defence.
He couldn’t afford to let himself feel her pain, because if he allowed the emotions through, the anger he held at bay would take over and he’d be nothing but a raging unthinking beast.
He stared out of the window. They were approaching the crossroads beyond the village. The place where the first Lady Moonlight had ended her life on the gibbet. With a wry twist of sick humour, he hoped it wasn’t an omen.
The carriage halted behind a stone wall at the edge of the common where the villagers grazed a few sheep and a scrawny cow. Garrick watched Caleb take off at a run, a musket over his shoulder, heading for a ridge to the east where scattered boulders and gorse provided plenty of cover.
Matthews opened the door, blocking his view. ‘Out you get. Ladies first, if you please.’ He bowed.
Garrick thought about head-butting the man on his way down the step, but saw Le Clere watching from a short distance off and could only watch in helpless fury as Matthews’s hand clenched around Ellie’s elbow. At the steward’s nod, Garrick leapt down and glanced across the open tract of land to where Caleb had disappeared. The man had ducked out of sight.
A perfect place for an ambush.
Trust him? An admitted murderer? Ellie wanted to. He’d been naught but a child. Could such an act be the sign of some horrible disease, as Garrick seemed to believe, or simply an accident? It seemed incredible to believe he’d killed his mother on purpose. But both he and Le Clere seemed convinced of his guilt. And then he’d asked her to trust him.
Up to now, everything she’d done had turned out for the worst. Like a fool, she’d trusted Jarvis to guide her in the matters of business, and look where that had led. With William’s life in the balance, the only person she dare trust was herself, and even there she didn’t have a lot of faith.
Michael. A pain carved through her chest. Don’t think about what had happened. Not now. Concentrate on what you need to do.
Her mind whirling in circles of indecision, she picked her way through the long grass to the wooden stile at Matthews’s direction. Garrick followed.
‘Wait here,’ Matthews said. ‘And don’t try nothing funny. I’ll be watching.’ He marched back to Le Clere, who had remained with the carriage, scanning the surrounding countryside with a spyglass. Watching for William?
Should she run? Not with Matthews’s shotgun pointed her way. If she wanted to escape, she’d need a distraction. She looked at Garrick. He seemed oblivious to the man and his weapon, gazing off into the distance with a faint smile on his face, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
He must have felt her gaze because he turned his head and raised a brow. ‘I wish to hell you’d let your brother get himself out of his own financial difficulties. You might never have got involved in this at all.’
Was he bent on annoying her? ‘If wishes were horses…And besides, they were not his financial problems. They were mine. I forged his signature.’
He groaned. ‘I might have guessed.’
‘Your Mr Jarvis said it was an opportunity of a lifetime.’
‘He is not my Mr Jarvis. He works for the estate.’
‘Your estate, my lord.’
‘As trustee, Le Clere makes all the decisions until my twenty-fifth birthday.’
Well, that explained some of it. ‘Not a wise choice for trustee.’
‘He was like a brother to my father. I don’t understand it.’
‘He’s protecting you.’
He sighed. ‘I know. But he’s far beyond the pale with this.’
‘You could say that.’
‘Squabbling is not going to help us.’
Her turn to raise a brow. ‘What do you suggest?’
‘We work together.’
She glanced up to find his eyes searching her face. Eyes full of bleakness, as if he guessed her doubts.
‘All right,’ she said.
Matthews was eyeing them suspiciously. ‘What are you two lovebirds talking about?’
‘None of your business, you cur,’ Garrick said, glowering at the man from beneath lowered eyebrows.
‘I could make it my business, your lordship,’ Matthews said, clearly undeterred.
‘Matthews!’ Le Clere’s voice held a warning.
Matthews closed his mouth like a fish on a hook, but the expression on his face threatened a future discussion, with fists.
Instead of blustering and squaring up like a contender at fisticuffs at a fair, Garrick should be focusing on their problem. She poked his ribs with an elbow.
Garrick watched his uncle direct Matthews to a position further along the wall. But where the hell was Caleb? And how many more men did Le Clere have up there? He scanned the rough terrain, with its clumps of gorse and shadowed folds.
A glint. A quick flash beside a rock he’d almost missed. And another, to the right. There were at least two of them. Garrick gauged the distance and the angle in relation to Matthews’s position at the wall. Oh, yes, Le Clere had it all worked out very nicely. Whoever crossed the common would be caught by intersecting lines of fire.
They were running out of time and he couldn’t find one weakness in Le Clere’s strategy.
Garrick turned, casually leaning his elbows on the rough stone wall, reviewing the open ground. Not a scrap of cover, not even a clump of grass left by the hungry sheep.
A lone horseman walked his horse on to the far side of the common.
Le Clere strode over to Ellie. ‘Your brother is right on time.’
The look of hope and joy on Ellie’s face pierced Garrick’s heart. What must it be like to have a family who cared the way she cared for her brother? What he had thought was caring, a bluff distant kindness, had turned to dross. His mother had loved him, he remembered dimly, but it hadn’t served her well.
He had to reunite Ellie with her family.
The man on the other side of the common raised a hand to shield his eyes. Clever. With the sun in his eyes, he’d have trouble spotting the sharpshooters.
He must have seen the party gathered at the wall because he urged his horse into a walk. When he was in the centre of the open space, he stopped. Good.
‘Where