Chapter 13
The village of Normanton was abuzz. From the thatched rooftops to the green outside the church, not a soul had missed the morning’s spectacle.
Jimmy Hall, tied in the old stocks like a medieval criminal, a note pinned to the stocks in his own scrawled hand, was the talk of every baker’s wife, cooper, and stable boy.
They called it justice.
They called it poetic.
They called it Captain Moonlight.
Robin walked through it all with a quiet smile and a tipped hat, nodding politely when someone greeted him. All they saw was Captain Robin Somerville, younger brother to the local squire—and that was as it should be.
If anyone of them entertained the thought that the two captains were one and the same, they never said anything to him.
A respectable gentleman, a highwayman? It was unthinkable.
Robin’s stride never wavered. His heart was fixed on a single destination—the parsonage.
He saw them before they saw him: a small gathering beneath the ripening apple tree in the front garden. Rachel stood with her father, her hair braided simply, her cheeks touched pink by the wind.
George Blunt stood nearby; his broad frame squared with unusual stillness. Beside him, Mary, in a new shawl, clutched her father’s arm and whispered something that made him chuckle.
Rachel looked up first. Her eyes met Robin’s.
And then the innkeeper saw him.
“Captain!” George Blunt strode forward, grasping Robin’s hand in both of his. “I owe you—no, we all owe you—a debt I’ll never be able to repay. I’ve told the Reverend everything—how you helped keep Mary safe, what you and Justin did. My girl told me the rest.”
Robin, slightly taken aback by the man’s genuine fervor, returned the handshake. “You owe me nothing, Mr. Blunt. I’m just glad Mary’s safe.”
Blunt shook his head firmly. “You were the only one with the spine to take on Hall when the rest of us were too scared to even name him out loud.”
“Speaking of names spoken out loud, all I ask is that you never mention myself or Captain Moonlight in the same sentence. It wouldn’t do for people to get the two confused.”
Blunt laughed and shook his hand once more with vigor, while he fought a wince of pain over the cuts and bruises he carried.
Robin’s eyes slid to the Reverend Pendleton, expecting disapproval, or at least surprise.
But Rachel’s father merely nodded once, slowly.
His beautiful Rachel, however, gave a slight, knowing smile.
Robin understood. She had told him everything.
But no one said a word more about it. It didn’t need saying.
“I was hoping,” Robin began, his voice warming as his eyes returned to Rachel, “that I might speak with your daughter alone, sir. Just for a moment.”
“Of course,” the Reverend said. “I believe Mrs. Rolf has prepared cinnamon cake for afternoon tea.”
Rachel stepped forward as the others retreated into the house, and they were left alone in the garden, the air scented faintly with camellias in bloom.
“You came,” she said, her voice quiet and sure.
“I could do nothing else.”
She watched him, waiting.
“Captain Moonlight is no more,” Robin said after a pause. “The cloak’s been hung, the pistols stored away. No more midnight rides. No more masks.”
“I’m glad,” she said softly. “Though I’ll miss him—just a little.”
He chuckled, then sobered. “There’s another role I want now. One I’ve never wanted more.”
He took a step closer, then reached into his coat. From inside, he drew a small, deep-blue box. It wasn’t ostentatious, but the ring inside, with a center stone of ruby, gleamed like morning dew in the sun.
“I don’t need the disguise anymore,” Robin said. “But I do need you. I love you, Rachel Pendleton. I want to build something real.
“I’ve bought a little estate nearby, not far from Normanton. It’s modest, but it’s mine. And I want it to be yours, too. If you’ll have me.”
Rachel’s eyes shone. “You’re serious.”
“Entirely.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”
The ring slipped onto her finger, and Robin kissed her hand, then her lips—soft, reverent, and full of promise.
When they parted, she smiled through the tears that had risen in her eyes. “You always knew how to make an entrance.”
“And now I hope to master staying put.”
Together, they walked back toward the house.
Inside, they found the Reverend in his study. He looked up as they entered.
Robin cleared his throat. “Sir, I’ve asked your daughter for her hand. And she’s accepted.”
Reverend Pendleton looked between the two of them, and for a long moment, said nothing. He rose and came to stand in front of Robin.
“I wasn’t sure, in the beginning,” the Reverend said. “You seemed... guarded. Restless.”
“I was,” Robin admitted. “But I’m not anymore.”
Pendleton nodded once. “Then I give you my blessing. On two conditions.”
Robin straightened. “Name them.”
“First,” the Reverend said, placing a hand on Robin’s shoulder, “you keep her safe. Not from highwaymen or ruffians—I’ve seen what you can do—but from the slow creep of disappointment. Be the man you are, not the disguise you wore.”
“I will.”
“And second,” the Reverend added, eyes twinkling faintly, “if you want the key to the church tower... you’ll ask me directly.”
Robin laughed aloud, the memory of the Burgess incident flashing in his mind.
“Understood.”
With the air cleared and futures laid bare, the four of them sat together, sipping tea, sharing cake, and planning—tentatively, joyfully—for what came next.
Robin Somerville had finally found the one thing he’d never fought for before.
A home. A purpose. A future—with Rachel.
And this time, he meant to live it not under cover of darkness… but in the full light of love.