Chapter Twenty
Drake
The Finch brothers had been left to truss the henchmen—three of them—and had done a good job of it. They put the five miscreants into their own carriage, trussed up like poultry for the oven.
Just to be sure, Wart found a hammer and nails in the barn, and nailed both doors shut.
If anyone escaped their bounds, they were going no farther, though Drake rather wished Jasper would succeed.
The man had gone down at the first blow.
Deprived of the fight his rage needed, Drake would welcome an excuse to punch Jasper again.
Wart announced that he had driven a carriage before, and proceeded to demonstrate, and Albinus Finch went on ahead to give news of the rescue to their father and Mr. Wintergreen, who should have arrived at Lord and Lady Finch’s by now.
Garry apologized to the three ladies. “We don’t have sidesaddles for the horses, ladies.”
“I do not need a sidesaddle,” Beryl declared. “I can ride astride if someone helps me to mount, but Cilla and Livy do not ride. They will have to go up behind someone.”
Drake turned to Cilla and she nodded before he had asked. Good, for he was not letting her beyond the reach of his arm.
Bane was already unbuckling the girth of his horse’s saddle. With the help of the other men, the two of them rigged a pad out of a colorful blanket behind the saddle, anchoring it firmly under the saddle.
Drake mounted, and Bane lifted Cilla up behind him, to sit sideways behind the saddle with her knees together on one side and her arms around his waist. At the touch of her, his emotions began to settle. Garry, meanwhile, lifted Beryl up and then mounted his own horse.
Bane indicated a mounting block, half-hidden in weeds. He escorted Livy up onto the block while leading his horse, then mounted and rode his horse to where Livy could simply take the hand he offered her to help her balance, and sit down.
Typical Bane. No showy moves. Just planning, resolve, and efficient action.
“Are you comfortable, Cilla?” Drake asked.
“I am,” Cilla said.
His heart settled a little more.
“We shall walk,” declared Bane. “Both for the ladies’ sake, and for the horses, who have already traveled eight miles here, and must cover the same distance back.”
“Did that fiend hurt you in any way?” Drake asked quietly, once they were out in the road, part of a long line of horses following the carriage.
“Jasper? My cousin is too much of an idiot to be a fiend. I’m not saying he might not have gone along with Mr. Curston if Beryl hadn’t been there. But he felt compelled to be at least a little bit of a gentleman in front of his sister.”
“I’m grateful for it,” Drake said. Although it didn’t make him feel better about Jasper. The wretch had threatened Drake’s lady. He must never be able to do so again.
“I am, too,” Cilla said. “Beryl did her best, Drake. She is afraid of her mother and her brother, but she helped as much as she could.”
What was Beryl’s role in the kidnapping? Why were the three ladies out on the park where they could be captured? Drake had his suspicions. He changed the subject.
“I told Lord Finch and Lady Marple that we are betrothed,” he admitted. “She was trying to stop his lordship from sending out help—though we would have come anyway, so she was doomed to fail. But it was better to have the magistrate on our side.”
“Betrothed?” Cilla repeated.
“The thing is,” Drake continued, “most of the guests hadn’t left the party, and a lot of them were listening. Do you mind very much?”
“Mind what?” Cilla suddenly sounded very much like her sister. “Mind being kidnapped? Mind almost being assaulted? Mind being rescued? Mind being informed—informed, mind you, not asked—that I am suddenly betrothed?”
“Um—” Drake sensed the need for caution.
“Three out of four? I do not suppose you mind being rescued.” It suddenly occurred to him what she was saying.
“All were without your consent. That was wrong. I understand that. I spoke without asking you first. I am sorry for that, but it seemed essential at the time. To protect your good name, and perhaps—if the worst had happened—give you grounds for an annulment.”
“They are sound reasons, I suppose,” Cilla admitted.
“You forgive me, then? For saying that you and I are betrothed?”
“Yes? But you don’t have to… We can change our minds when the fuss dies down.”
“I will not change my mind, though you can, if that is what you truly wish. I have been courting you for months—or weeks, anyway. Lucilla Wintergreen, would you do me the very great honor of marrying me? I am not the richest of your admirers, or the most talented. I am certainly not the best looking. I have no title and my blood is not blue. But not another man in the world esteems you as I do. And not another man needs you as I do. As my wife, my partner, my friend, my lover. When I arrived at the Finches’ and found you gone, I glimpsed the void my life would be without you in it.
” A deep dark hole with no light and no hope. “Rescue me, Cilla, my love. Marry me.”
Cilla had been holding lightly onto his coat with one hand while sitting upright on the pad of blanket.
She leaned against him now, reaching her hands around him as far as she could, and resting her head against his back.
“Yes,” she said. “Oh, my darling. Yes, I will marry you, and be all those things you just said.”
He freed one of his hands from the reins to press it over hers, where they clasped together in front of his chest. “My wife, my partner, my friend, my lover. For all of our lives together.”
*
Bane
Livy was sitting stiffly, quietly, behind Bane, her only contact with him one hand gripping his coat.
He endured the silence for as long as he could, understanding her need to retreat into herself after such an experience. When he could stand it no longer, the words that tormented him burst out. “Did he hurt you?”
Had he been too late, he meant, but she took the words at their face value. “Some abrasions from the rope on my wrists and ankles. Some bruising from being tossed around like a sack of grain. A horrid taste in my mouth from the rag they stuffed into it. Considerable injury to my dignity.”
Is that all would be the wrong thing to say. If she had been violated, she was not prepared to talk about it, and he would not further damage her dignity by being more specific in his questions.
He would settle for doing something about the taste in her mouth. He reached around inside his coat with one hand without taking his eyes off the road. There it was. His inside pocket, and within it, his flask, which he handed over his shoulder.
“Here. Have a sip of this. It is brandy, and will help with the taste.”
Her fingers touched his as she took the flask. A moment later, she said, “It bites. I am not sure that I like it.”
“Give it a minute, and you will get the flavors,” Bane said. “A couple more sips would not hurt, either.”
“Sort of sour and bitter, but fruity.” She was silent again for a moment. “A sweetness, too. How odd. It helps, Bane. Thank you.”
“Keep the flask,” he offered. “Sip when you wish, but be cautious. It is very strong. If you are not accustomed to strong drink, it might affect you more quickly than you expect.”
“Not necessarily a bad thing,” she mused.
That she was arguing was a good sign, surely? “It will be if you fall off the back of the horse,” he retorted, and was rewarded with a hiccup of a laugh.
“If I fall off, I shall blame you,” she retorted.
He should tell her that they were betrothed.
No, that he had claimed they were betrothed, and she would need to agree to save her reputation.
She was not going to be pleased, and he didn’t want to upset her.
Wasn’t it better for her to have the peace of the journey before she had to deal with the turmoil that was sure to be waiting for them?
But no. She deserved to be warned, but he could wait until they were nearly at the Finches’. They rode on in a companiable silence.
The distance they had traveled at such speed a short time before was farther than he’d realized.
It must have been nearly an hour before he could see the towers of Finch Court ahead of him.
“Livy, there is something I need to tell you. At Finch Court, when we confronted your aunt and Lord Curston, Drake and I told them and Lord Finch that we were betrothed to you and Cilla. A lot of other people were listening.”
Livy stiffened. “Oh,” was all she said.
Bane felt the need to explain. “Lady Marple and Lord Curston were claiming that you had gone willingly with their sons, that you had consented to marry them. Saying you were already betrothed to us gained us Lord Finch’s support to pursue you, and gave you some protection from the gossips. I am sorry if you do not like it.”
“I do not plan to marry,” said his future wife, firmly. “You know that. The whole world knows it. Cilla, I think, favors your brother. She can wed him, and I shall retire to Liverpool and ignore the Polite World.”
“Is it that…?” He had left it too late. They had turned in at the gates to the mansion. The Finch brothers and a dozen other people crowded as close as they dared to the horses carrying the rescued maidens, their words consoling and encouraging, and their eyes avid with the glee of a good scandal.
With no further time for private conversation, Bane had to leave it, and hope that she would at least understand the sense of using the cover of the fake betrothal today, and until the fickle ton had turned their attention elsewhere.
*
Livy
Pa was waiting for them, striding impatiently back and forth across the forecourt of Finch Hall, his balled-up hands clenched at his side.
Lord Finch and several of his guests stood on or by the steps to the front door, and started forward as the riders approached, with the carriage containing the villains behind them.