Page 93 of Outrageous

“Her ’usband—Paul’s brother—died that day. She’s never been quite right since, destroyed by grief—like ’is lordship was, I’ve ’eard.”

Eva wasn’t about to discuss Godric with this man. He must have seen that on her face, because he sighed heavily and said, “Come. I’ll take you back to the inn.”

Eva jerked away from him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

She couldn’t hear him laugh, but she could see his tired smile. “You’re a scrapper, aren’t ye? I reckon you’d ’ave made a fine member of my merry band.” He cut a glance at Paul’s prone form and muttered something Eva couldn’t hear. That was fine; she had no interest in listening to any more of his drivel.

“I want my gun,” she said loudly.

His eyebrows shot up. “Why, so you can shoot me with it?”

“It’s not loaded,” she pointed out.

His lips curved. “But you’d shoot me if it was, wouldn’t you?”

She shrugged, tired of the conversation, her head aching. “Possibly.”

He laughed again but handed her the pistol, butt first.

When Eva snatched it away, he said, “It’ll take you a few hours to walk back.”

“Which way?” she yelled, shoving the gun into the back of her breeches and adjusting her clawhammer and overcoat to cover the bulge.

“Take the cart track to the muddy road and take a left. Keep goin’ to the first road that bisects it and take a right. That’ll bring ye right back to the Vicar.”

Eva headed for the door, but Flynn’s voice arrested her.

“Oy, girlie.”

She turned.

“You won’t tell—about Dora.” The humorous lines of his face were suddenly grim—his expression that of an old man, rather than a fearless rogue. “They’ll come for ’er for sure if they know she took a pot shot at an earl’s wife.”

Eva knew he spoke the truth. She also knew she would’ve done the same thing in Dora Crosby’s position if she were to meet someone responsible for Godric’s death.

“I won’t tell,” she said, turning away and shutting the door on any further conversation.

The trail through the woods was well marked, if narrow. She strode over the soft sphagnum and rotting leaves in the direction Flynn had given her. The forest was dense, but sunlight broke through in places, and it looked like diamonds glittering on the path ahead of her.

Everything else aside, it was a lovely day for a walk.

* * *

They’d turned away from town after crossing the—perfectly fine—bridge. Godric knew Mrs. Crosby wouldn’t have taken her captive into town.

They’d trudged on in silence until they came to a muddy track that bisected the road.

“Did they go this way?” Andrew asked.

Godric glanced at the rutted mud, which looked as though something might have driven through it since the rain had stopped.

“Straight, or right?” Andrew prodded when Godric didn’t answer. The boy was good for keeping him awake, but he did tend to maunder on and worry and wonder out loud. Incessantly. It made Godric appreciate Eva’s company more and more. Say what you would about her impulsivity, the girl wasn’t afraid of her shadow.

Godric pointed to the road that headed north, into the woods.

Andrew groaned. “Why did I know you were going to say that?”

“Perhaps because you know Flynn’s band is more likely to hide in a forest than in the middle of a cow pasture?” Godric set off down the road, keeping to the grassy verge rather than the brown troughs that were a good five inches deep with mud.