The Louise Allen Collection: The Viscount's Betrothal / The Society Catch. Louise Allen
Читать онлайн книгу.
freedom, I have found. Within bounds, naturally,’ she added in a commendable imitation of Hermione’s tone when lecturing on proper conduct.
‘Indeed?’ Adam was teasing again and the tense moment was past.
‘Indeed,’ she agreed. ‘I am about to purchase a phaeton and a team and Henry has agreed to assist me with that. He will not approve my trying a pedestrian hobbyhorse, though,’ she added wistfully. ‘He considers that would pass all bounds. There are ladies’ versions, apparently,’ she added when she saw both Adam’s eyebrows shoot up. ‘With three wheels.’
‘Then I am with Freshford on that subject—they would be a truly terrifying addition to London traffic. He is a man of sense.’
Adam glanced across to where Henry was talking to Olivia. Her charming smile was lighting up her face, transforming her from a pretty but passive statuette into a lovely, vivid young woman. ‘Quite beautiful,’ Adam observed dispassionately, as though he was admiring a work of art, and a cold chill ran down Decima’s spine. Was that really all he wanted? A beautiful trophy wife?
She was still brooding when they resumed their places in the carriages. Adam drew alongside to discuss the route with Henry. ‘We turn off to the left at the crest of Brockley Hill, then follow the lane across Stanmore Common. The house is shortly before Bushey Heath.’
With an effort Decima pulled herself together and tried to take an intelligent interest in the purpose of the expedition. ‘It is very pleasant around here,’ she observed, looking around them as Henry followed Adam’s curricle off the main turnpike. She was immediately grateful the men had not chosen to drive high-perch vehicles, as they lurched from one pothole to another. ‘But somewhat isolated. If it were me,’ she decided, ‘I would not think it ideal. It is too far from London to make it easy to drive in and back in the day—not if one wishes to shop or attend a function, that is. But the house may be lovely and make up for that.’
They were crossing an expanse of common land now, with furze bushes and spindly trees in clumps amidst the brown of last year’s bracken. Adam turned in his seat and gestured towards some chimney pots that could just be seen rising above a copse fringing the edge of the open land. ‘That is the house.’
As he spoke, two riders swung out of the nearest clump of furze and spurred towards them. Their purpose was unmistakable, even without the masks pulled up over their lower faces and the heavy horse pistols in their hands.
Decima heard Olivia’s scream, then Adam was turning the curricle, only to be headed off by one of the riders. With the frantic girl clinging to his arm, Decima could see he was having difficulty controlling his team.
‘Damn it.’ Henry was juggling whip and reins. He thrust them into Decima’s hands and reached under his seat, coming up with a pistol in his hand, but the curricle in front cut off a clear shot at the riders and Decima could see he was unable to fire without risking hitting either Adam or Olivia.
Then Adam dropped his whip, thrust Olivia ruthlessly to the floor of the curricle and reached down. Like Henry, he too was carrying pistols under the seat. Despite the plunging team, he stood and took aim. The gun cracked and one of the riders clapped a hand to his shoulder, then his companion fired, wheeling his horse in at close range before Adam could use his other pistol.
‘Oh, God!’ Decima fought with the reins as the team tried to back away from the noise and confusion and Henry managed to drag the other gun from its fixings. For a moment she could not see what had happened. The scene before her seemed as before the shot was fired, then Adam bent, clutched at his thigh and toppled out of the curricle to the ground.
The unwounded rider swung round, threatening them with his weapon. Henry threw himself across Decima, shielding her body as he tried to find a steady bead on the man.
‘Adam!’ Decima tried to push Henry away and steady the horses before they bolted, but the riders closed in on the driverless curricle, one on each side. One man bent and seized the rein and then they were away, cantering across the uneven ground, bearing Olivia away from where Adam’s still body sprawled on the turf.
Decima regained control and drove the few yards to reach his side. She thrust the reins into Henry’s hands and jumped down, stumbling in her long skirts. He was dead, he had to be dead, he lay so still on his back, his right thigh a mass of blood from where the bullet had torn through his buckskins.
As she reached his side Adam groaned and raised himself on one elbow. ‘Olivia?’
‘They’ve taken the curricle.’ Decima fell to her knees beside him. Thank goodness, the bullet did not appear to have hit an artery, the blood was not spurting. She rummaged under her skirts, seized the edge of her petticoat and tore ruthlessly.
‘Go after it,’ Adam gasped, looking up at Henry. ‘Have you a loaded pistol left?’
‘Yes, both.’
‘Take her to the house—you can hold two of them off from there.’ Adam’s breath was coming in painful gasps. ‘Hurry.’
Henry brought the whip down with a crack and the team responded, already almost out of control with fear. Decima barely watched him go, her whole attention fixed on the man sprawled in front of her.
‘Adam? Can you hear me?’ His eyes were closed. ‘I must bandage your leg, stop the bleeding.’ How was she going to move him? Could she leave him here and go for help or would the men come back…? First things first, she steadied herself. Stop the bleeding.
‘Is he out of sight?’ Adam spoke clearly. Thank heavens, it would be much more difficult if he were unconscious.
‘Yes, try not to worry, Henry will save her, I know he will.’ There was the distant sound of a shot.
She looked up from where she was trying to make a pad out of wadded strips of petticoat to meet a pair of calm, lucid grey eyes fixed on her. ‘Of course he will,’ Adam said, lifting himself onto both elbows with a grunt. ‘God, this track’s hard. I must be lying on a flint.’
How could he be so calm, so brave? ‘Lie still, you’ll make it bleed worse. Can you just raise your leg a little, I know it must hurt…’
Adam sat up fully. ‘Leave it.’ He got to his feet, pulling her up with him. Too amazed to resist, Decima stared at him.
‘Your leg—Adam, you must let me bandage it.’ But the blood had stopped completely now and the man facing her was standing squarely on both feet, not favouring either leg. The grey eyes watching her were unclouded by pain, or any sign of fear for Olivia’s fate.
‘You aren’t wounded at all!’ She stared at the jagged tear in his buckskins, the blood-soaked leather. ‘How did you do that?’ Her heart was still pounding with the aftermath of fear and frantic action, her arms ached from the effort of holding the plunging team and she felt sick with reaction.
Adam shook his right arm and a knife slid out from the sleeve into the palm of his hand. ‘Sausage casing filled with pig’s blood in my breeches pocket.’
Decima reacted without any thought. Her right hand went back of its own accord and she hit him, flat on the cheek. ‘You idiot! Henry’s armed, someone will get killed!’
Adam rocked back on his heels, but made no other move to avoid her blow. ‘Bates swapped Henry’s ammunition for blanks before we started. The only person with a loaded gun is me, and that’s here.’ He patted a coat pocket. ‘My two assistants have blanks in their pistols as well and by now I imagine they will have proved singularly inept kidnappers and will have abandoned the curricle and Olivia in it. Come on, I am sorry you were frightened, but it’s all in a good cause.’
‘Frightened? I was terrified. And Olivia—can you imagine how she is feeling?’ Decima gathered up her skirts and ran to catch up with him. ‘Adam, what do you think you are doing?’
He glanced down at her, a smile twisting his mouth. ‘Match-making. I am sure Olivia would consider ten minutes of terror a fair exchange for not having to marry