Chapter 4
Chapter Four
When one was hungover, there was nothing more mortally offensive than the sunrise.
Thomasin scowled at the sun as it rose mercilessly over the horizon.
On a typical day, Thomasin didn’t roll out of bed until at least midmorning.
In the early days of her career, when she had just been an orphan that Marshall had picked up off the streets, she would awaken before the sun itself.
Back then, nothing came easily, and she had to work herself nearly to death just to scrape by.
She couldn’t imagine possessing that kind of drive anymore.
Worthing’s face had been annoyingly shocked when Thomasin informed him they’d be leaving at dawn.
Despite what he thought, she wasn’t stupid.
For the first time in their syndicate’s history, the Metropolitan Police had actually set a bounty on their heads.
If they had any chance of making it out of London, then they needed to be well and gone before word got out that they were on the move.
This wasn’t like when Thomasin slipped out of the city in disguise to terrorize the country roads on her own.
Multiple members of the syndicate, and Edith, of course, riding out of London on horseback would be more than enough to call the constables down on them.
After all, they had been staking out the Oleander Inn for months.
Thomasin trudged to the small stable behind the inn where the rest of the crew was already preparing the horses.
Her favorite horse had died three years ago, and she made a point of not getting too chummy with any of the four horses they had left.
But Thomasin didn’t anticipate needing much manpower for the simple task of escorting a rich girl across the country to an imaginary treasure.
She assigned Worthing and a relative newcomer named Jay to accompany her and Edith.
She obviously didn’t want to spend any amount of time on the road with Worthing, but if she left him with the rest of the gang, she’d only have a mutiny to come back to.
Worthing was older than Thomasin, and he believed this meant it was his God-given right to occupy a higher position of power than her.
As for the new guy, he was quiet and didn’t irk Thomasin in any notable way yet.
To Thomasin’s surprise, Edith was already in the stables as well. It appeared that Jay was teaching her how to saddle a horse. Edith paid close attention to Jay’s work, eagerness etched across every line of her face.
“Good morning!” Edith said brightly when she noticed Thomasin lingering outside the stables. Worthing surveyed her with his usual put-upon look, while Jay nodded in acknowledgment.
“I took the liberty of readying your horse for you,” Worthing said.
Thomasin couldn’t bring herself to thank him for the passive-aggressive move. “I’m more than capable of readying my own horse.”
“Of course, boss. I merely thought to be economical with our limited time.”
“Fine, fine, very well.” Thomasin rolled her eyes as she skirted around him, barely sparing him a glance.
She was used to the rage she felt roiling in her gut whenever she laid eyes on him, but the guilt was new.
Now whenever she saw his face, she thought of the ransom note currently making its way to Edith’s father.
She had sent it herself last night. The letter demanded an astronomical amount of gold and told Edith’s father to meet them at Slaughterbridge in six days’ time to collect his daughter.
If he didn’t show, then the next ransom letter would be sent along with a body part of Edith’s.
Thomasin hadn’t decided which yet. Toes didn’t hurt too bad to lose, but an ear would send a more severe message.
She mentally shook herself for even considering it. Of course she’d have to send an ear. She wasn’t this person who felt guilt or pondered the least painful course of action for her victims. Kidnappings were just another job, and she never failed to execute a job.
When she came around to mount her horse, Edith smiled at her. It was earnest and open, and certainly not the smile of a person who was even beginning to suspect that this might be their last week in possession of two ears.
Before she could think better of it, Thomasin held out a hand to help Edith mount her own horse. That was when she got a good look at Edith.
“Is that an adventuring outfit?” she blurted.
Edith flicked out her skirt and gave a little twirl. “It is,” she said delightedly. “Do you like it?”
It was the kind of thing that a learned archeologist would wear but infused with femininity.
The waistline emphasized Edith’s full figure, and the flow of the skirt hinted at the curves beneath it.
The top was practical, loose and airy, yet flattering.
It was buttoned up, but the V of the collar still showed off just a sliver of her collarbone.
None of these words made it out of Thomasin’s mouth.
Instead she said, “Yeah. Yeah, it’s good. ”
This still seemed to please Edith, who blushed as she took Thomasin’s waiting hand.
Her skin was soft, and Thomasin closed her fingers around Edith’s hand so that she could feel more of it as she helped her onto the horse.
She guided her on with a touch on the small of her back, the heel of Thomasin’s hand pressing into the curve of Edith’s spine.
When she withdrew, Edith wobbled slightly.
“You set?” Thomasin asked.
Edith steadied herself and grabbed the reins. Once her feet were properly situated in the stirrups, she nodded down at Thomasin. “The last time I was on a horse, I was five, and it bucked me off. I never thought I’d get on one again.” There was pride in the breathy admission.
This girl is brave, Thomasin thought, something akin to fondness kindling in her chest. Insane, certainly, but also brave.
“You’re a natural,” Thomasin said as she mounted the horse next to her. She would make sure to ride alongside her so that she could assist if Edith lost control of the reins.
The four of them departed from the stables and into the sun-drenched morning.
They kept their horses at a casual pace.
Anything else would be cause for suspicion.
Thomasin scanned the streets as they went, her eyes darting from one shadowed alley to the next.
She held the reins with one hand and rested the other on her pistol, ready at any moment for an ambush.
As they reached the outskirts of London, the shackles of the city clanking off behind her, Thomasin almost relaxed her guard.
The smog of the city had given way to clear country air when she heard the thunder of galloping hooves racing up behind them.
She whipped around, positioning her horse at the center of the road, her companions falling into a line behind her.
Four horses came into view as they crested a hill.
Leading the charge was a burly man with a thick red goatee in a constable’s uniform.
“Fuck,” Thomasin cursed under her breath.
The Metropolitan Police were not the most effective organization.
For the most part, they looked the other way with bribes or other incentives.
It was only when a criminal did something really abhorrent that they actually put in any effort to track them down and haul them in front of the justice of the peace.
In her opinion, Thomasin hadn’t done anything so awful.
But she had pissed off exactly the wrong person, and unfortunately there was a very, very long list of crimes that they could put on her wanted sheet if the mood suited them. Which, after ten years, it finally did.
She felt a horse pull up beside her, and she did a double take when she saw Edith next to her. “Don’t worry,” Edith said to Thomasin. “I know how to handle the authorities.”
Before Thomasin could stop her, Edith trotted ahead of her and called out to the storm of constables, “Good morning, gentleman!”
They skidded to a stop before her, all four pistols trained on her immediately.
“Well, that’s really not necessary,” she said, fighting to keep her horse facing the right way. “We’re more than willing to cooperate.”
“Out of the way,” said the burly one up front who just so happened to be the chief inspector.
“Where are your manners, sir?” Edith said.
“Now.” The chief cocked his pistol. Edith, apparently lacking in any survival instinct, scoffed indignantly and remained planted where she was.
Thomasin threw a quick command over her shoulder, telling Jay and Worthing to stay put, then clicked her tongue and urged her horse forward before Edith could get herself killed.
It obviously hadn’t occurred to her that, in her current dress and with her choice of company, it would not be clear to these men that she was a wellborn lady.
Thomasin smirked at the chief as she fell in line with Edith. She said the first thing she could think of that would pull their attention from Edith to her. “How’s your wife?”
It worked a little too well. The man snarled and fired a recklessly aimed shot at her, which she dodged easily.
Thomasin wished she could say that she hadn’t known that the woman she’d seduced at the market was the chief inspector’s wife.
But she had known, and that had made everything more fun.
It wasn’t like she had done anything bad to Grace.
In fact, she’d probably given her the best night of her life.
But that didn’t seem to dampen the inspector’s ire.
“That is no way to treat a lady!” Edith shouted, her face turning red with indignation.