Highest Stakes (42 page)

  Philip doubted that Robert could maintain such a pace while riding with Charlotte, and he questioned whether they would have the resources to hire fresh horses. Unlikely. They would be more liable to keep their own mounts rather than entrust Mars and Amoret to some unknown hostler's care. Perforce, they would rest more frequently, thus losing several more hours of their lead. If Philip changed horses, he could ride straight through to Leicester by midnight.

  He estimated Robert and Charlotte would break their journey somewhere between London and Northampton. The girl couldn't possibly complete three hundred miles by horseback. It would be a cruel and arduous ride for a man, let alone a slip of a girl. They would continue on to either Sheffield or Doncaster, where they might safely stable their horses and pick up either the stage or the mail to Scotland.

  Philip had little doubt he would catch up with them. He had already ridden the better part of fifty miles in six hours, a bruising pace. Hawke had been fresh and enthusiastic at the outset, but the distance had nearly spent him. Philip feared pushing any further, lest he seize up or grow lame.

  "Sorry, m'boy." He patted the steaming horse's neck. "I fear we soon part company. The next coaching house or livery must be your home until I can collect you, but I've no doubt you'll appreciate the break." The horse nickered as if in agreement.

  Drake lessened the pace, but by the time they reached the next village, Hawke had lost a shoe. The horse could go no farther. Finding no livery, Philip dismounted and led his drooping horse to the village smithy.

  "Excuse me, good man," Philip said, addressing the burly smith, "might there be in this village a sound horse for hire?"

  Busy at his forge, the man did not immediately respond.

  Philip tied his horse and addressed him more adamantly. "I seek a horse for hire, man. The matter is quite urgent."

  The burly man stood and surveyed the major. "Next coaching house and livery be twenty miles, in Leicester. Best ye try there."

  "Twenty miles! This horse is past spent and going lame. I must acquire a replacement. How much to hire Goliath?" He indicated a big draught tied nearby.

"'Ow'd ye know 'is name?" asked the bewildered man.

  Losing patience with this simpleton, Philip demanded, "How much to hire your horse? I shall require him only as far as Leicester, where I can procure something more suitable. Rest assured, I shall leave him at the nearest livery."

  Perceiving opportunity in the major's urgency, the man greedily replied, "Two guineas."

  "The devil, you say! That's highway robbery! I can hire a coachand-four a full day for half as much!"

  "Seems to me there be no coach-'n'-four at yer disposal, and seein' yer horse is nigh lame, 'twould seem ye got little choice. 'Tis no matter to me." The man shrugged, turning back to his forge.

  Philip's ire rose at the outright usury, but he wasted valuable time. "I'll pay you one deuced guinea," he countered, "and not an infernal ha'penny more. Furthermore, you'll bloody well see to my horse! Should you unwisely refuse my offer, I shall requisition said horse in His Majesty's service."

  Realizing the veracity of the threat, the smith grunted assent and left his forge to fetch the draught, while Philip pulled his saddle and pack from Hawke.

  "I will be back in a few days to collect this one, and if, by happenstance, he is gone when I return, I will see you hung for horse thievery. Do we understand each other now, my good man?"

  Philip tossed the man a guinea, but to his vexation, his saddle girth was several inches shy of accommodating the bigger horse. Rather than wasting more time and indignity haggling for the cart, Philip swung bareback onto the giant and spurred the sluggish beast into the bone-setting trot he was to suffer for the next twenty miles.

  Finally reaching the livery at Leicester, the major dismounted, his fine breeches now covered in dirt and horse sweat. He handed the carthorse off to a sniggling groom.

  Famished and fatigued, he arranged for a fresh horse and trod on to the Old Greyhound Inn, where he bespoke a room and inquired of the innkeeper if he had seen an officer traveling with a young woman. With the negative reply, Philip procured a bottle of wine and a stale loaf and made his way to his chamber. Little did he know, climbing into bed for the few remaining hours until sunrise, that Robert and "Charles," arriving only three hours earlier, occupied the next room.

Startled by a log popping in the hearth, Charlotte abruptly awoke. "Robert?" she whispered to no answer.

  Rising from the bed, she glanced around the chamber still steeped in shadow. Peering out the window at the lowered moon, she estimated an hour until sunrise but found herself alone. They had again shared a chamber, but this accommodation had two beds, and his was empty and bereft of his gear. Where was he?

  A wave of panic threatened to choke her. Had he changed his mind and left her here? Alone?

  Her fear rose to a fever pitch. She searched for her boots and then groped for her coat and cap. Pulling them on, she headed for the door, crashing into Robert as he opened it to enter.

  "Robert!" Her voice quivered. "I feared you'd left me!"

  "No! God no, Charlotte! How could you even think such a thing? I started the fire for you and left to make provision for our journey. You were so drained I did not wish to disturb your rest until the last possible moment. The horses are now ready, and I have stowed food in our packs to break our fast as we ride. We dare not tarry any longer."

  "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to doubt you, but waking alone…"

  "You must never doubt me, my love. Never doubt me." He gripped her shoulders almost painfully and then checked his emotions. "We must be off now. We arrived late enough last night to avoid notice. 'Twould be wise to depart in like manner. We have over sixty miles to Sheffield, but I hope to make it this very night."

  "We have come this far; I swear to persevere. Assuredly, I shall."

  "Yes, Charlotte, you shall," he said, encouraging her with a tender brush of his lips.

Philip rose with the sun, shaking the cobwebs from his head, his lids still heavy with the wine he had partaken of only a few hours earlier. His jolt to full consciousness arrived with the bracingly frigid water he splashed on his face before hastily donning his clothes. Taking up his pack, he broke his fast in the taproom and was off to the livery.

  The young groom who brought out the horse, saddled and ready, inquired, "Be there more tidings of the Young Pretender?"

  "None at the moment, lad. We feared invasion on the southern coast a few weeks back, but our proud navy prevailed."

  "But what of the Scots? Is the army heading to the border?"

  "There is yet no news of moment from the north. Why do you ask?"

  "Just wi' two officers heading nor'ward, I thought ye might be carrying news," the boy offered.

  "Two officers? Have you seen another heading north?"

  "Aye, sir."

  "Indeed? When did this other arrive? Was he a Captain of the Horse?" Philip demanded. "Was he alone or accompanied?"

  "Can't rightly say when they arrived, but his uniform was like your'n. A stripling accompanied him. Left early, though; must ha' tended their own horses, as I was barely sprung from me bed when they rode out."

  "Damme!" Philip swore. "How abominably obtuse! Why didn't I think to inspect the stables last night?"

"A friend of your'n?"

  Philip didn't answer but sprang onto the startled horse almost before the groom released the bridle. Wheeling furiously, he departed the stable yard with a clatter of hooves.

With fresh horses after a full night's rest and extra forage, Robert and Charlotte set a more moderate pace than their frantic ride the day before. Easing their pace and breaking every fifteen to twenty miles, Robert was still confident to achieve Sheffield by suppertime, where they would take lodgings at the Dark Horse.

  Although the accommodation was shabby, at least Charlotte would have the care of a woman after her long journey. He would order her a private room and a bath so that she might travel the rest of the way clean, refreshed, and returned to feminine attire.

  From Sheffield, surely there would be service to Scotland. His hope was for the mail; pulled by six strong horses, it sped along at nearly ten miles per hour. Though not the most comfortable conveyance, it was assuredly the fastest. By mail coach, they could gain Scotch Corner by tomorrow nightfall, and then it was only a day's ride to the border town of Gretna Green.

  He would finally have Charlotte. For now, it was enough.

  He gazed tenderly at the girl by his side. In her present disguise, she was both the reckless little waif he first admired and the young woman he had come to love so deeply.

  Feeling his gaze upon her, Charlotte smiled and blushed, as if reading his thoughts, but their moment was broken by the thunder of hoof beats. With one hand upon his sword hilt, Robert spun his horse around and spied a lone rider coming up hard behind them.

  Though the rider was still a good distance away, he could make out the scarlet coat with its blue facings, the colors of the King's Horse. It could only be a fellow trooper, but something all too familiar in the rider's posture set him on alert.

  "Why the devil would Drake be coming north? He's supposed to be in Newmarket!"

  "Drake? Are you sure it's Drake? Could he be recalling you to duty? Could he have changed his mind about helping us?" Charlotte's tone registered her growing alarm.

  "I can think of no other reason for this pursuit," Robert said, "unless he thinks to retrieve you to his brother. I never would have thought it of him, but if blood is thicker than water…" He paused; then with slow deliberation, he drew his sword. "Ride ahead, Charlotte. I shall settle this. I shall meet you in Sheffield when it is finished."

  "Finished!" she cried aghast. "Surely you don't mean to fight him!"

  "I shall first determine his purpose, my love, but if he seeks to take you from me, he gives me no choice."

  "You can't mean this!"

  "I assure you, I do," he said vehemently. "I thought Philip my friend, but if my suspicion is justified, I swear I will draw his blood."

  "Robert, I won't have it! We can still outrun him. That's our choice. We will push all the way to Gretna Green if need be!"

  "'Tis now a matter of honor, Charlotte. Don't you understand?"

  "No. I do not understand! You could be killed." Drawing breath, she challenged him. "If you truly love me, Robert, you will come now, and to hell with honor!" Without looking back, she cued Amoret into a gallop.