The Rebel Read online

  As he’d lay abed last night, the situation had run through his head over and over. He knew he had released the widow too hastily, but one couldn’t be too careful with the influence of dear family friends. But something else kept nagging at him. So many times in his mind’s eye, he had kept seeing the tattered shawl Jane had been wearing around her neck the day before. She always dressed in black—but never in rags. But why would she even have such a thing in her possession, unless it were a gift from some papist woman. It must have come from the widow’s wife. Sir Nicholas had not mentioned it, but who else but Rita would have given it to her. And why Rita give it to Jane, rather than Sir Nicholas himself, unless she was extremely grateful for something other than a few coins?

  He turned on Wallis, who was studying his thumbs closely.

  “Did you learn anything else, Captain?”

  “Aye, Sir Robert. We did confirm that Sir Nicholas and Miss Purefoy were the ones who took the widow’s children yesterday.”

  The magistrate turned sharply to his captain. “And where did they take them?”

  “We…er, we have not ascertained that as yet, sir.”

  “Are you telling me that you did not have someone follow Spencer and the widow yesterday? I am certain he would have taken the woman to where her children are.”

  A dark shade of red crept up the officer’s thick neck. “I beg your pardon, Sir Robert, it never occurred to me that you…”

  “Must I do all of your thinking for you, Captain Wallis?” Musgrave clamped his hands with disgust behind his back and walked toward the embarrassed officer. “Is it absolutely necessary for me to give you minute-by-minute orders? Your leadership, Captain, is a reflection not just on you, but on me, as well. And it is a reflection on your family, sir. Do I make myself clear?”

  “My apologies, sir,” the man said quickly. “I assumed…mistakenly, it appears…that you were satisfied with your meeting with the baronet and…and I clearly erred in not having them followed. But I was quite wrong, Sir Robert. I shall never make such an assumption again.”

  Musgrave’s pique called for more haranguing of his subordinate, but his common sense reminded him that there was always more to be considered than just the immediate situation.

  “There is another matter—a related matter—that I want you to attend to, Captain.”

  “Indeed, Sir Robert,” the officer replied, standing up. “I shall not fail you.”

  “I’m sure,” Musgrave said, nodding solemnly. “This matter is of the utmost importance, and I want you to be certain your men do not miss anything. And I want you to conduct the questioning personally.”

  The dragoon captain waited attentively.

  “Yes…questioning. I want everyone who has ever come in contact with the rebel, Egan, to be brought here and questioned. By everyone, I mean your own dragoons, as well, who might have caught a glimpse of him. I mean the area clergy. The landlords and their tenants. Even Sir Thomas’s guest.”

  “What about the bishop, Sir Robert?”

  “I shall handle the bishop…but I want you to talk to that fat clerk of his.” Musgrave looked steadily into the eye of his man. “The questioning, this time, will be different. Instead of what happened and how many and all those other useless things we usually try to find out, I want your full attention to be given to this Egan. I want his description. His build. The color of his hair. The color of his eyes. His weight and height. I want to know everything we can learn about him. I also want to know details about the horse he rides. Is it always the same one or does he ride a number of different steeds? Does he ever travel on foot? What language does he speak normally? Does he speak English with an accent? Do you understand what I am after, Captain?”

  “Perfectly, Sir Robert. You want to learn the identity of the cur.”

  “I want that blackguard’s head, Captain.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  “Then get your men moving. I want results…and I want them now.”

  ***

  To Jane’s great disappointment, all the members of her family were still at breakfast when she walked into the Morning Room. She uttered a quiet greeting to Lady Spencer and Frances, ignored Sir Thomas’s suspicious glare, and sat in a chair by her surprised mother.

  “What a delightful surprise to see you this morning, Jane,” the young Miss Spencer blurted out excitedly. “We were just told by Lady Purefoy that you were visiting some people in Ballyclough, and no one knew when you would return.”

  “I see. Well, I decided I would return last night...late.” Jane nodded gratefully to the young serving girl who poured her some tea. “There was no way for anyone to know.”

  “And how was good Parson Adams?” Lady Spencer asked interestedly.

  “Very well, I think. Both Mrs. Brown and Parson Adams send their regards.” She hid her face behind the cup and let her gaze drift to Clara, who was sitting by the visitors. A distinctly petulant thinning of her sister’s lips made Jane wonder what had Clara so riled this morning.

  “I hope you do not mind my persistence, Jane,” Lady Spencer continued. “But I was hoping to steal a little of your time for the selfish reason of the two of us just chatting about...”

  “Clara loves to chat.” Lady Purefoy interrupted.

  “Indeed, Lady Purefoy,” the guest replied breezily. “However, I find that Jane and I have quite a few interests in common, and I was hoping to spend some time in her company.”

  Their guest’s emphasis on the word ‘her’ immediately silenced Catherine. But Jane actually felt sorry for her mother momentarily. If she only knew how much damage she inflicted on Clara’s chances each time she pushed her forward so brazenly.

  “Thank you, Lady Spencer. I…I should love to spend some time with you,” she responded quietly. “But I promised to return to Ballyclough this morning to check on a sick friend. Perhaps…perhaps this afternoon when I get back.”

  “As you wish, dear. I…”

  The appearance of Nicholas in the doorway threw the entire room into chaos. Lady Purefoy immediately sprang to her feet, ordering the servants back to the kitchen for hot platters of everything. Clara, too, was on her feet. Frances made some teasing remarks about her older brother sleeping the morning away, and if it weren’t for Lady Spencer’s interference, the young woman would have relayed a related story about her brother that was obviously not too flattering. Sir Thomas even made some casual remark about Nicholas’s solitary excursion yesterday being a sure sign that he must be feeling quite at home in Ireland.

  Her sister’s reaction, however, was the most disturbing one for Jane. Unlike the first night, this morning Clara’s attention was focused completely on Spencer. And her mood of a minute earlier had altered considerably.

  Jane watched her sister bring him a cup and saucer, taking the tea from the servant and pouring it herself before sitting down near him. Amazed, she looked on as Clara made some private comment that brought a smile to his lips. When her sister reached out, however, and touched his sleeve, laughing in a charming way at his vague answer about what he’d had for dinner last night, Jane sat back, stunned.

  Clara was interested.

  The resentment that cut sharply through Jane appalled her. She refused the offer of food by one of the servants and tried to hide her flushed face behind a cup of tea while lively conversations ensued around her. As she regained control of her feelings of anger, though, she wondered with horror if perhaps she had guessed wrong about Clara’s true interest. The realization that she herself might be having an illicit affair with her sister’s future husband only compounded her dismay.

  Watching them, though, Jane knew that she could live with shame, but she didn’t think she could endure the ripping pain in her heart that jealousy was causing at this moment.

  “You have been here less than a week, sir, and you are already better acquainted with the countryside than most who have been here for years.”

  “Only with the inns, Sir Thomas,” Nicholas corrected i
n a humorous tone. “I believe that to know the land, you need to get to know its inhabitants. Now, what better place to meet them than where they gather to eat, drink, and…the rest of it.”

  “But that is one of the reasons that we are having the ball on Friday, Sir Nicholas,” Lady Purefoy offered enthusiastically. “This will be a perfect opportunity for you to meet everyone who is anyone.”

  “But they will hardly be the ones who are one with this land, madam.”

  Jane didn’t have to look up to know that Nicholas’s gaze was on her with every sentence that he uttered.

  “Why should I leave London if my interests lay only with the gentry?”

  “Well said.” Clara spoke softly from her chair. Jane looked up and found her sister’s admiring gaze on Nicholas’s face. “But as important as it is for someone like you to get a feel for the people and their lives, it is critical that you also get a proper view of the land. There are some very fine views that surround Woodfield House. And now that I know the depth of your interest, I am assigning myself to be your guide. We can take a carriage or we can ride, whichever you prefer. And—starting this morning—I guarantee that you shall be totally enchanted by everything that I show you.”

  “You are very kind, Miss Clara, but I regret that I must refuse your offer.”

  Nicholas’s words stunned those listening into a shocked silence. Jane felt her own hand trembling as she put down her saucer of tea and hid her hands on her lap.

  “I fear I have a previous engagement for today. But perhaps some other time.”

  “When?” Lady Purefoy chimed in immediately. “When? Outings such as this should certainly be planned in advance.”

  “If you will excuse me,” Jane murmured as she rose to her feet. “As I mentioned before, I am expected at Ballyclough this morning.”

  Avoiding the looks of everyone in the room, she started for the door. She didn’t wait. She didn’t even pause. Positive that the lump in her throat would surely choke her, she rushed from the house and ran blindly toward the stables.

  CHAPTER 20

  His excuses about the day slipping by sounded about as hollow as a ale cask after May Day. His responses to the queries about his ‘previous engagement’ were vague and brusque. Nicholas had only one thing in his mind, though, and that was going after Jane. And he didn’t give a damn about what everyone thought of his hurried exit.

  If it was too obvious that he was going after her, then so be it.

  “Where is Miss Jane, Paul?” Nicholas asked, catching sight of the trainer in the paddock. One of the grooms was just leading Queen Mab out into the pasture in the back. Her black coat was gleaming in the sunlight. “I was to ride with her to Ballyclough this morning. Has she left?”

  The stable master shook his head and nodded toward a building beyond the stables. “Ye’ll find herself in the carriage house, sir. Miss Jane has a load of clothes and blankets and things that Fey packed for the widow and her wee ones. Ye might go right through the stable there.”

  As Nicholas started past the man, Paul laid a hand on his arm.

  “A word of warning, sir. ‘Twas no happy lass what passed through here few moments ago. So don’t ye be telling her I sent you that way, for she told me in no uncertain terms that she wishes to go on to Ballyclough alone today. No groom for the carriage…and no Sir Nicholas, either.”

  “I shan’t get you in trouble with her, Paul,” Nicholas assured him before striding quickly in that direction.

  With high ceilings and partitioned stalls for ten carriages of various types, he could see that the carriage house was obviously a new addition to the stables of Woodfield House. One carriage was missing, and Nicholas found it on the drive beside the building. The two-horse phaeton, modern and handsome with its oversized wheels and shock absorbing springs, was already loaded and ready for Jane.

  One of the stable boys stood holding the horses heads.

  “The kitchens, sir,” he replied to Nicholas’s question of Miss Purefoy’s whereabouts.

  Starting quickly toward the house, he found her coming out of the kitchen door with a large basket of food in her hands. He had the advantage of studying her for the moment before she saw him, so he saw the red-rimmed eyes and the sadness that showed so clearly in the set of her shoulders. He immediately moved to her and reached for the basket.

  “Can I help you with this?”

  She seemed startled for an instant before jerking the basket away. “I can handle it myself. Thank you.”

  Her tone wasn’t sharp or angry, just tired and defeated. He fell in beside her. “Would you like me to ride my horse and pretend I am heading south? I could catch up to you on the road to Ballyclough later.”

  “I wish to go alone today.”

  “But you told me…”

  “A change of plans. Sorry…”

  Frowning, Nicholas cast a side glance at her. There were unshed tears shining in her dark eyes. He brushed the back of his hand gently against hers. She recoiled from his touch and stepped aside.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

  “Nothing is wrong.” She shook her head and turned her face away.

  With the exception of the lad waiting by the carriage, no one else could be seen around the carriage house. The fellow took the basket from Jane and placed it securely on the seat. She asked him to lead the vehicle to the drive beyond the paddock, and Nicholas placed a hand on her arm as the carriage rolled away. “Can we talk?”

  “I fear I haven’t the time right now.”

  “This won’t take long.”

  “I said I haven’t the time.” She tried to shake off his touch, but he only tightened his hold. Sharp temper flashed in her eyes. “Let me go.”

  “Not until you give me a moment of your time.”

  “I shall see you in hell before I allow you or anyone else to bully me.”

  He’d have been ready if she pulled her dagger on him again, but he wasn’t prepared for the solid punch that she delivered to his midriff. Hiding his momentarily inability to breathe, he flashed a broad smile at Jane, who was flexing her fist in obvious discomfort.

  “Is that the best you can do?”

  “It is not.”

  He saw the next barrage coming. As her temper exploded, a flurry of kicks and punches erupted. Knowing his best chance of avoiding injury was to attack, Nicholas moved quickly forward, managing to pin her arms to her sides and lift her off the ground. He moved briskly into the carriage house.

  “You let me go, you…you boor…you blackguard.” Writhing like a snake, she fought him every step. “I am going to cut you into a thousand pieces. I’m going to gut you like a hare and feed your heart to my dogs.”

  “This is such an improvement over the first time we met, Jane.” Nicholas smiled, holding her tightly against one of the stalls to minimize the damage she could be inflicting on him. “But perhaps not, considering I could only understand about half of the curses you were hurling at me in Gaelic that day.”

  “No one gets away with what you…”

  His mouth captured hers, and he felt the vibrations of her next complaint fade to a murmur as he deepened the kiss. Her half-hearted struggles against him lasted only a moment longer, and Nicholas tried to control his own body’s urge to make love to her here…now. The moment she melted against him, he felt his surging desires flare up, nearly overwhelming him. Images flashed through his mind of her soft flesh this morning, moist and alive, welcoming him. He pressed into her, relishing the feel of her mouth and body, eager to receive him.

  His body held hers tightly against the wall, his hands feeling beneath the cloak. Her breasts were firm through the dress, and her hands were pulling at him with growing ardor, drawing him close. And then she stopped.

  The salty taste of her tears mixed with the kiss, and he tore his mouth away. Through the haze of his passion, he saw her closed eyes and the crystal droplets rolling down her cheeks.

  “Jane,” he whispered against her lips.
“Jane, talk to me. What happened this morning before I came to the Morning Room?”

  She turned her face away, but he took hold of her chin and drew it back. She opened her eyes, and he found himself drowning in the sadness he could see there.

  “You should have…accepted Clara’s offer…” she managed to get out. “You should be…be spending time…with her and not…not with me.”

  He paused for a moment, stunned by his own blindness. Of course she would be upset at the constant thrusting of her sister upon him. But nothing had changed.

  “There is nothing between Clara and me, Jane. Nothing.”

  “She invited you and…”

  “Must I accept every invitation extended to me? Do you acquiesce to every request for your time?”

  She shook her head. “But this is different. You see…I…I let myself become…become interested…because I thought Clara was not.”

  “Did I never have any say in this?” He tried to keep his tone light. “I have told you before. I never pursued her. My interest has only been in you since arriving here.”

  “’It is not that. My own reaction is what appalls me now.” Fresh tears escaped. “No matter…whom you might have been interested in…I would never have allowed myself…to become…entangled with you if I knew my sister had the slightest interest…or hope. It was…is wrong of me…to be near you…to spend time with you…to become tempted.”

  Thousands of arguments formed in Nicholas’s head, though expressions such as “Who cares if Clara is interested!” were burning on his tongue. He felt his frustration and anger growing. The younger sister had everything that she could possibly wish for in life—parents who doted on her, wealth enough to guarantee an excellent marriage, beauty and a well hidden intellect that wouldn’t intimidate many potential husbands among the gentility. Nicholas wanted to shake Jane and wake her up. Her concern for her sister was needless. Instead, she needed to look inside and see what she wanted from life. But Nicholas already knew this kind of talk would only push Jane farther away from him.