Chapter 4
Robert couldn’t help but stare at her. She was like a warrior goddess, tall and stately as she stood there atop the rocking curricle.
Her hand was steady despite the ordeal she’d just been through and the amazement that shone on her face.
Her wide, silver-blue eyes were wild with excitement and long tendrils of flame-red hair escaped from her crooked bonnet to toss in the breeze.
She’d been dreadfully shaken, yet her stance didn’t waver and there was little fear in her expression.
Indeed, her face and her form were both perfectly suited for her Athenian role.
Gone was the petulant, freckled Marianne Maidland that he remembered, a boisterous imp who had teased and dogged him in youth. In her place was a formidable beauty. Robert cleared his throat and gave her his most winning smile.
“Have no fear, Miss Maidland. I’ve saved you!”
He was prepared for a thank you. He was ready to catch her should she throw herself down into his arms out of gratitude. When neither of those happened, he at least expected her to lower her weapon.
But she did not.
“I most certainly do not need any saving!”
“Er, but the carriage… it was running away with you,” he reminded, willing to allow that the trauma of the event had jostled her brain.
“The carriage was perfectly under my control,” she snipped.
“That’s not quite how it looked to me, Miss.”
“What do you know about it? Aren’t you dead?”
“Er… as you can see, no.”
“Why not?”
He could only shrug at such an odd question. “Because no one has killed me yet, I suppose. Are you planning to remedy that now, or may I be so bold as to beg you to put down your infernal bow?”
It was not particularly endearing that she paused for several moments to consider his question before finally replying. “Oh, very well. I won’t kill you. Not just now, at least.”
“You’re too kind.”
“But I do wish you hadn’t stopped the horses,” she said, clearly not ready to embrace him as a long-lost friend. “They were doing exactly as I directed them.”
“You directed them to run wild and nearly toss you head over heels?”
“That’s not at all what they were doing.”
“It is entirely what they were doing—they were completely out of control.”
“They were fine.”
“Then why were you screeching to high heaven?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Indeed you were! That’s what brought me here. I was strolling peacefully through the forest on my way to… well, I heard your desperate screams and came running.”
“I was not desperate.”
“Perhaps not, but you should know I exerted myself quite a bit to rush out here, swing up into a tree, and then courageously drop down onto your steeds. Because you were screaming. No, don’t deny it—you were.”
“Very well, I was screaming. But it wasn’t for you, I assure you.”
“You were calling for someone else to rescue you, then?”
He glanced warily around the forest. It was bad enough that he’d had to reveal himself to her, the last thing he wanted was additional detection. It would ruin his plans to be discovered alive before he and his men had learned anything useful about Gisborn’s scheming.
“If you must know, I was hoping no one would rescue me,” she said.
He shook his head. “So, this was your attempt at suicide? Badly done, Miss Maidland, I must say.”
“No! Why am I bothering with you? Be gone. I don’t even know who you are.”
“But you recognized me from the first. You said it yourself; Robert Locksley.”
“Robert Locksley died on the battlefield months ago.”
“Is that what Mr. Gisborn told you?”
“Of course, though for the life of me I can’t understand why you should lie to the poor man about such a thing.”
“You’re certain that’s what I’ve done?”
“Obviously! If he knew you were alive he certainly wouldn’t be…”
Ah, here they were getting to something useful. “Wouldn’t be what? What has my trusty steward been about in these months since I’ve been presumed dead?”
“Well… he has been managing things for you, of course.”
“My finances and my estate, you mean?”
“Of course. You did leave things in a bit of a mess, after all.”
“Did I? How on earth can you be so privy to this sort of information?”
“I may have overheard some of the discussions between Mr. Gisborn and my uncle,” she said with a cagey tone. “They worked together on that mortgage you instructed Mr. Gisborn to take.”
There was that word again! Mortgage. Robert tried to hide his surprise and his anger.
Was it true, had Gisborn somehow mortgaged the manor?
Robert could scarcely believe it. This was very grave indeed, and something Robert needed to investigate.
Perhaps running across Miss Maidland this way had been lucky for him, after all.
If she could be convinced not to tell Gisborn about him, of course. That was still a very large unknown. What was her relationship with the man?
“And who holds this mortgage I supposedly authorized?” Robert asked carefully.
“Did you not authorize it?”
“No, Miss Maidland. I did not authorize it nor did I leave my estate in such a manner that would require it. I doubt you believe me—since I’m dead, after all—but I gave Gisborn no such instruction.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she glared down at him. “I don’t believe you. Mr. Gisborn would have told me if… that is, he could not expect my uncle to…”
“And just how is your dear uncle involved? Mr. St. John has never been inclined to be helpful to the Locksley family before.”
“He holds the mortgage, sir.”
It was as if the wind was kicked out of Robert’s chest. Prinley St. John held the mortgage on Greenwood Manor? No, Robert couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t believe it.
His surprise must have shown plainly on his face.
“You truly did not know about this?” she asked.
“It seems there are a great many things here in Nottinghamshire that I don’t know about,” he said, recovering himself. “You, for instance, Miss Maidland. How long have you been back?”
“Not quite a month,” she replied. “My father passed away and… well, London did not feel like home anymore.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss. I always rather liked your father, what I knew of him.”
“Thank you. He loved Nottingham; he would be glad to know that I came back here.”
“And have you found it much changed?”
“Oh yes. But then… I was hardly more than a child last time I was here. Perhaps my memories are skewed.”
“What differences do you see?” he asked, glad for the insight.
“I cannot quite explain it, but Nottingham doesn’t seem… well, it isn’t as happy as I recall.”
“The city is not happy?”
“It’s a silly observation, I know. As I said, my memories are those of a child. Still… you asked what I have noticed, and that is my answer. The city is not happy; the people are not happy; and the forest…well, it doesn’t feel happy, either.”
He glanced around, wondering if he would see dying trees or fading foliage. The forest looked as he remembered it, yet something in Miss Maidland’s description felt true. Something was different here. There was a heaviness in the air that he just couldn’t quite comprehend.
“I don’t mean that you will see weeping oak trees or birds dropping from the sky,” she said quickly. “I simply mean the atmosphere is not as I recall. The people are fearful, and I never heard stories of highwaymen in Sherwood when I was young, but they are here now.”
“Yes, sadly I encountered some myself not very long ago.”
“Highwaymen?” For the first time he saw actual fright flicker in her eyes.
“Relax,” he assured her. “I have handled them.”
It was hardly fair to take credit for that, considering the pitiful sort of highwaymen they had been and the fact that Robert had not faced them alone, but the less Miss Maidland knew about his traveling companions, the better.
Besides, Robert rather liked the wide-eyed appreciation he read on her face as she imagined him battling deadly rogues in the forest.
“Are you certain they have gone now?” she asked.
“They have. You are quite safe, Miss Maidland. I assure you.”
The horses were calm, and Robert finally felt secure leaving them.
He moved to stand at the side of the curricle, directly below Miss Maidland.
Sunlight filtered through the trees making her ivory gown alive with soft colors and shadow.
The curling wisps of unruly hair danced in the breeze like a fiery halo around her.
Her blue of her eyes was like sunlight glinting on the rippling waters of a brook.
“And you truly have only just returned from war?” she asked after a moment.
“It is true, Miss Maidland. Even my steward does not know I am back. I was hoping to… surprise him.”
She broke her gaze away from his. “You are in luck, then. He is… he is here with us.”
Robert whirled around but was pleased to find no sign of Mr. Gisborn. Miss Maidland gave a nervous laugh.
“I just left him along the road, that is. Back that way a bit, but I’m sure he’ll find us here soon enough. You can share the good news that you have come home.”
Gisborn was out here in the forest with her? Robert was surprised, but then recalled what his butler had said.
“Ah, you were driving with him, weren’t you?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied, offering no further details.
“Do you go driving with him often?”
“I have done so a few times, not that it is any of your concern.”
“Ah, but it is. Mr. Gisborn is my steward; he is very much my concern. So tell me, if you have gone driving with him, why is that you and the carriage are here, and he is not?”
“He will catch up soon.”
“Does he have his own carriage?”
“No, this is his carriage.”
“So you are a thief?”
“I most certainly am not!”
“But you left him behind?”
“What I do is my own business, sir,” she snapped.
He began to get some idea of her business.
Either she had been carried off in a runaway carriage, or she had driven herself away and abandoned Mr. Gisborn.
And she’d been very adamant that the carriage was not out of control.
Robert knew there was one obvious reason a lady might abandon her gentleman and bolt.
Perhaps Mr. Gisborn was not so much of a gentleman, after all.
And that could mean Robert would have an ally in Miss Maidland.
“Here you are with the carriage, and your companion has been left back a ways,” Robert said, considering his words carefully. “May I infer that Mr. Gisborn is not so much your friend as you would have me believe? Did the man, perhaps, take liberties? Is that why you abandoned him?”
But he’d gone too far. Miss Maidland was not at all ready to confide in him or make him her confidant. She planted her fists on her hips and fumed.
“How dare you, sir! You should infer no such thing and I believe this conversation is ended.”
But it was not. Not quite. Robert grabbed the side of the curricle and swung himself up to stand beside her. The vehicle swayed from his motion, so he took Miss Maidland by her arms to steady her. His grip also prevented her from striking him.
“I need you, Miss Maidland.”
“You may not have me, sir! Now get out of this carriage.”
“I will go, but please… I need your help.”
“I’ll help you to leave!”
“I’ll go, but one thing: Gisborn cannot know that you’ve seen me.”
“What? Of course he should know.”
“Please, Marianne. I’m asking as an old friend.”
“I don’t recall that we were old friends…”
“Then I’m asking as a new friend.”
“I don’t recall becoming new friends. The way you are clutching me now, I’m not certain we are anything like friends.”
Her eyes flashed. Off in the distance Robert heard the first indication that she had been correct about Gisborn. The greedy steward was calling from somewhere up the road, around the bend, just out of sight. His voice was muffled by the trees but definitely coming closer.
“See?” she said with a triumphant grin. “Mr. Gisborn is on his way.”
He met her flashing eyes and held the defiant gaze for just a moment.
Her arms were taut, tense where he clasped them.
Her strength was surprising, hidden behind delicate muslin and a fine silk shawl.
She seemed just as sure in this precarious position as she would have been in a ballroom or fashionable salon.
Marianne Maidland had certainly grown up to become a remarkable woman.
He realized he was enjoying holding her far too much for his own good. Gisborn’s voice was rapidly approaching. Robert needed to leave.
“Don’t tell my steward you’ve seen me,” he said quickly. “Please.”
Since it seemed ridiculous to ask favors of her while he gripped her like a ruffian, he let his hands drop to his sides.
The curricle rocked slightly but she held herself firm, standing perfectly straight and secure, still glaring daggers but not moving the least to get away from him.
He let himself swim in the current of her eyes for just a moment longer, then he swung himself down onto the ground.
She stayed as she was and he admired her over his shoulder. Something about her eyes—the expression in them—gave him hope that just maybe she would keep his secret.
“It was good to see you again, Miss Maidland.” He hoped she knew that his words—and his smile—were quite genuine.
She paused just a heartbeat before giving reply. “I’m glad you’re not dead.”
He could have suddenly broken into song. That she should be glad for anything that he’d done seemed instantly the most momentous achievement. Did this mean she would not tell Gisborn of seeing him? He almost didn’t care.
Giving the slightest bow yet not quite ripping his eyes away from hers, he could not even be bothered to hide the foolish grin on his face.
He wanted to believe she returned his smile, but it was probably wishful thinking.
With one last parting glance, he took off for the safety of the dense forest. His men were waiting for him, probably watching this entire interlude and ready to chide him for it.
What did it matter? Marianne Maidland was all perfectly grown up now. Even better, she was glad that he was not dead, and he fully believed she would not mention his presence to Gisborn. Best of all, though, she had not shot him.