Page 149 of A Perilous Passion

Charlotte looked to Rafe for help. He staggered, and collapsed back against the wheel of the coach. He was in no condition to do anything. It was down to her now, and she had to think fast before he was further weakened by loss of blood.

“You’re right. We should go,” she said. Releasing the horse’s head, she caught Rafe about the waist and tried to take his weight. “And quickly, before this gentleman faints.”

“I’ve never fainted in my life,” Rafe rasped. “Stop interfering, Miss Allston. I must make a captive of the villain, and turn him over to the authorities.”

“And bleed to death in the process? What if he comes to? You’ll be no match for him in your present state. Come now, while you’re still able.”

Rafe emitted a deep groan, and she felt him relax against her shoulder.

Jenny looked alarmed.

“Don’t worry. I know this man. It’s quite safe,” she said. “Quick, help me before he falls!”

They soon had his weight balanced between them. She scanned the ground quickly to make sure nothing incriminating had been left behind in the scuffle, then glanced at the sky. It was still raining—thankfully not as hard, but it was unlikely to clear anytime soon—which would wash away any blood trail.

Taking a deep breath, she thanked her lucky stars she had a strong stomach and wasn’t the kind of person likely to faint in the jaws of danger. She thanked them, too, for Jenny’s loyalty and presence of mind.

And she fervently prayed that Culverdale would never know who it was who had knocked him senseless.

Recovering a little, Rafe slid his arm away from Jenny and rummaged at his belt, producing a dagger. “Here,” he told the maid. “Cut the ribbons, close to the body of the lead horse. Right through, so Culverdale can’t follow us. Then cut a two-foot length of leather strap and bring it to me.”

“We must get away from here!” Charlotte exclaimed as Jenny came running back to them with the strap. “We can’t afford to linger.”

“Much as it infuriates me to leave the blackguard behind,” he ground out, “I believe you’re right.” Replacing his dagger in its sheath, he said, “Quickly. We must get out of sight. Head straight for the stand of trees on that little hillock.”

Jenny thrust her shoulder beneath his armpit, and Charlotte took his weight on the other side. Between them, they pushed through the soaked undergrowth and forged a path to the place Rafe had indicated. When they were a good quarter of an hour away from Culverdale and his driver, he pointed to a shadowy opening in the dense undergrowth beneath an ancient spreading yew. “Hitch up your skirts and crawl in.”

Jenny squeezed through first, and Charlotte insisted Rafe follow. When his muddy boots had disappeared inside the concealing canopy, she cast a quick look over her shoulder, listening for pursuers.

There were no sounds but the wind soughing in the branches and the steady patter and drip of the rain. The woods were getting darker by the minute, which could only be to their advantage, though how they would make their way home cutting across country if there was no moon, she’d no idea. From their hiding place it was impossible to see the coach, but there were no noises of hue and cry or moving lanterns, so there was still hope they would escape undetected.

She hitched up her skirts, knelt on the sodden ground, and wriggled through the gap into a dark, rank-smelling cave of greenery. She could only imagine what kind of creatures called it home.

There was just enough space for the three of them, and any movement invariably resulted in banging one’s head on a branch or being scratched by a limb. After her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she saw Rafe tying the leather strap tightly around the top of his thigh.

“I need something for a bandage,” he whispered. “Do you have a handkerchief in your reticule?”

“Too small,” she responded. “We’ll use my stockings.”

It was an awkward scrabble in the confined space, but with Jenny’s help, one stocking was removed, turned inside out, and folded into a soft pad, the least muddy side of which she applied to Rafe’s wound. The second stocking she tied around his leg to keep the first in place.

“Now we wait,” he said.

She peered at him incredulously. “No! We need to get you to a surgeon.”

“That must wait until full dark, so we can get back to Dovehouse unseen. Paynter has experience of dressing wounds in the field. He’ll sort me out.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “Dovehouse is two miles away. The cottage is much closer. We’ll go there immediately, before you bleed to death.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand the seriousness of this business. I cannot be caught or seen. Nor must either of you. The punishment will be dire if you’re thought to have assisted a highwayman. Think of your mother, your aunt. Will you bring such shame on them?”

She pressed her lips together stubbornly. “Then why are you a highwayman? Are any of the tales you’ve told me true?” He opened his mouth to reply but she waved him into silence. “Either way, there’s no way on God’s earth we’re staying here with you in this state. The longer we wait, the more time we’re giving Culverdale and his coachman to alert the authorities. Soon, the whole countryside will be in an uproar.”

“You cannot be seen in the company of a high toby.”

“Then you mustn’t look like one,” she said, exasperated. “We’ll hide your mask and hat in a bush, tie your coat about your waist to hide the bandage, and roll up your shirtsleeves. If Jenny and I untidy ourselves, we can all stagger back together as if we’ve just come from the alehouse and are making our drunken way home. No one will guess who you are.”

“You think to give me orders, Miss A— Aah!”