Page 48 of A Perilous Passion

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!”

His groan of pain made her wince, but she said crisply, “Be ruled by me, just this once, sir. I’m sure my plan will work.”

“You read too many Gothic novels, Miss Allston, as I said before,” he muttered. “But perhaps, just this once, you are right.”

She breathed a sigh of relief. It would have been dreadful staying here in the cold and the damp, waiting for nightfall, and knowing with every minute Rafe was losing more blood, growing weaker and less able to walk.

“Well, we do smell of wine, thanks to Jenny’s quick thinking with that bottle,” she said. “Anyone who gets close enough will easily believe we’re all in our cups. Jenny and I will let our hair down and carry our bonnets. Jenny, could you loosen your lacing at the front?”

There was a gasp from the girl, followed by a throaty chuckle from Rafe—which made her feel a lot better. If he could still laugh, he wasn’t dying.

“Your maid is scandalized by your suggestion,” he said. “Evidently, she values her modesty more than you do your own.”

Possibly true. Concerning him, admittedly, she had very little modesty left—especially after that kiss the other day. But the less anyone knew about that, the better.

“If you’re ready, we’ll get moving,” she said quickly. “I’ll go first.”

It was good to feel the chill of the rain on her burning cheeks. How could she possibly be thinking about Rafe’s touch, his lips on her face and her breasts, at such a desperate time? Shaking her head to clear it, she gazed about, trying to get her bearings.

“There’s an old sheep path just through there,” Jenny said, and pointed toward the edge of the wood. “I’ve been through Fox Wood in late summer looking for blackberries and cobs. The best can be found along that path.”

The track was barely wide enough for three, but they made their way as best they could, shielding Rafe from brambles and twigs with their bodies. Charlotte, now missing her stockings, came off worst—her ankles stung from the vicious swipe of bramble thorns, and she regularly had to tear her skirts free. Both she and her gown would need serious attention when they arrived back home.

As the outskirts of the village came within view, she paused and listened for any sign of alarm or unusual activity. When all seemed still, she staggered boldly out onto the road, pulling Rafe and Jenny with her, and struck out for home, praying they would reach it unseen.

Because if they were caught by Culverdale’s men, there would be no mercy.

For any of them.

Chapter Twenty-One

Rafe struggled to keep his weight off the shoulders of the women who held him upright, but balancing on one leg when dizzy from blood loss made him nauseous. He was cold, exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to lie down and rest by a leaping fire.

It was a difficult discovery that he was not unbreakable, and he cursed his body’s weakness, praying for a swift recovery. Regardless of Charlotte’s family history, he would not risk bringing the wrath of Culverdale and his cronies upon her. She’d saved his life tonight, for which he was eternally grateful.

Mrs. Allston and her sister responded quickly to the women’s frantic knocking.

“My dear!” exclaimed Mrs. Allston as Charlotte and Jenny struggled to get him through the door. “What’s befallen you all? Great heavens, it’s Lord Beckport! I thought I’d made my opinions about your—”

“Mr. Seabourne,” Charlotte corrected.