How to Woo a Reluctant Lady (36 page)

They rode swiftly through the streets. When they got out onto the country road leading to Ealing, they increased their pace even more. Bent on making good time, they rode in silence.

As they approached the estate, Giles slowed and began scanning the road for signs of Plumtree’s gig.

“I don’t see anything,” Minerva said. “I do hope he hasn’t left already.”

Giles looked up at the sun. “I doubt it. Plenty of light left. He probably wouldn’t leave his rig out where anyone could come along and spot it.” He turned onto the long pathway leading to the hunting lodge. When they got within sight of the path to the pond, he saw a horse tied to a tree.

He moved his horse close enough to Minerva’s to nudge her knee and, when she glanced at him, pointed to the horse. She nodded. He pulled up, and so did she.

They both dismounted. “I’m going looking for him,” he murmured. “Looks like he’s alone, so I can handle him. You
take the horses and go up to the hall.”

“What if you need one of them here?”

“I won’t. His is here, and if I happen to miss him because he’s gone a different direction, I don’t want him seeing a horse and realizing that someone has guessed his game. We might never have another chance to catch him doing whatever it is he’s up to.”

Worry showed in her face. “I hate to leave you here without a means of escape.”

He smiled. “If you knew how many times I’ve extricated myself from dicey situations, minx, you wouldn’t be so concerned.”

“Still, I’ll fetch a couple of brawny servants and bring them back in case Desmond proves stubborn, all right?”

Chucking her under the chin, he said, “Good girl.”

He turned to leave, and she caught his arm. When he cast her a quizzical glance, she stretched up on tiptoe and kissed his mouth. “For good luck,” she whispered.

Her anxious expression touched something long buried inside him. And it dawned on him that when a man didn’t trust others to help him, he never got the chance to see them show concern for him, either.

His blood pounding, he gazed into her lovely face. “Answer one question for me, darling.”

“Yes?”

“You said you were in love with me until I broke your heart. Since then, have you . . . That is, do you think you might someday . . .” He was a fool for asking. This wasn’t the time, and no matter what she answered, it would take his focus from what he had to do. “Never mind.”

But as he turned away, she whispered behind him, “Yes, I’m still in love with you. I’ve always been in love with you.”

He froze, then kept moving, his mind awhirl. Minerva loved him. Was
in
love with him. And he realized he’d been waiting to hear those words all his life. Waiting for someone to see that he was
not
just the rascal second son,
not
only a failure who’d once ruined his brother’s life and made a slew of stupid choices in his youth.

The fact that it was Minerva who saw him that way made his heart exult.

Plumtree’s horse whinnied, jerking him back to the present. He had to keep his wits about him.

He searched for signs of a path into the woods other than the one to the pond, since he hadn’t seen any signs of digging near there the day he and Minerva had taken their swim.

But before he even found the break in the underbrush, he heard the unmistakable sound of a shovel hitting rocky ground.

He slid his hand into his coat pocket and closed it around the handle of one pistol. Time to find out once and for all what Desmond Plumtree knew about the Sharpes’ deaths.

M
INERVA DIDN’T HEAD
for Halstead Hall right away. For one thing, she wanted to make sure she knew exactly where Giles entered the woods, so she could find him when she returned. For another, she wondered about his reaction to what she’d said.

She knew he’d heard her. That one heart-stopping moment when he’d halted had told her that. She even understood why he might not have said anything in response. It wasn’t exactly the time or place for a confession of love.

Indeed, she wasn’t sure why she’d blurted it out, except that when he’d asked her about how she’d once felt, he’d looked
so tense, almost doubtful of her answer. At that moment, she would have done anything to erase that look from his face.

And now he was going off to fight with Desmond, and she might never know if he felt the same.

She stiffened. No, she wouldn’t think that way. He was
not
going to be hurt. He could take care of himself. He was a spy, after all.

Her husband, a secret operative for the Home Office. It boggled the mind.

Taking note of where he’d walked into the woods, she put her foot in the stirrup to mount her horse, then froze as a familiar voice said, “Well, if it isn’t my dear cousin Minerva.”

The bottom dropped out of her stomach as she took her foot out of the stirrup and turned to find Ned standing there, eyeing her with rank suspicion. Beyond them, a short distance back, was
his
horse. He must have spotted her and dismounted so he wouldn’t alert her to his presence. That wasn’t good.

“Ned!” she exclaimed, trying to sound pleased. “How lovely to see you. What are you doing here?”

“I was wondering the same thing.” His gaze flicked over the horses. “Aren’t you married and living in a big house in London now?”

“Can’t I come home to visit?”

He narrowed his eyes on her. “This is a bit far afield, seems to me. And where’s your husband gone off to?”

Did he know Giles was here, headed toward Desmond? If she lied and said that she was here with someone else, and he’d
seen
Giles, then he would know something was up.

Best not to take the chance. “He went off to find a good location for our picnic while I hold the horses. He said there’s a pond near here.”

“That’s true. But you don’t have a picnic basket.”

She thought quickly. “He’s got the basket with him.”

“Now, why would he carry the basket when he could just leave it with you? And even if he did, why were you getting ready to mount your horse and ride off when I walked up?”

Unable to refute that, she went on the offensive. “Why are you asking all these rude questions?” she countered in the loftiest voice she could muster. “This is my home, and I can come here whenever I please, to do whatever I want. So if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see where Giles has disappeared to.”

Before she could even round the horse, though, Ned stepped up to press a knife to her side. “I don’t think so, cuz.”

Her stomach clenched into a knot. “Ned,” she said firmly, “what on earth are you doing? Put that knife away! I’m your cousin, for goodness sake!”

“Yes, and a fat lot of good that’s done me. Father and I have a chance to pull the mill out of the fire, and I won’t let you ruin it.”

“I have no intention of ruining anything,” she breathed. She couldn’t fight him; he had a weapon and she didn’t. He could have her gutted before she even screamed. “I don’t care why you’re here. You can do whatever you like, if you’ll just let me go find my husband.”

“We’re going to go find him, all right. He could have been to the pond and back twice by now. So I expect he’s not at the pond. And I expect you know that.”

Oh no. Lord only knew how Giles would react to seeing Ned holding a knife on her. “We don’t want any trouble. Just let me take the horses and—”

“Keep quiet, damn you! And start walking.” He urged her into the woods, keeping the knife pressed in the small of her back. She considered stumbling but was afraid she might stumble the wrong way and get stabbed. Besides, a scuffle with
Ned could distract Giles while he dealt with Desmond.

Ahead of her, she could hear the sound of a shovel hitting something. Desmond was probably digging, which meant Giles hadn’t reached him yet. She had to give Giles time. The only way they’d both get out of this safely was if Giles took care of Desmond before she and Ned could reach them.

She walked as slowly as she could, dragging her feet, pretending to have trouble getting over the logs and rocks. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you. You’re being ridiculous, and this is—”

“I said shut up!” he hissed. To her horror, he caught her about the waist and placed the knife to her throat. He kept whispering in her ear as he pushed her along. “You always were a meddler. Just had to shame the family with those wretched books. And Aunt Hetty doesn’t even care—she still gives everything to you lot, while we don’t get a damned thing.”

She refrained from pointing out that his father had inherited the mill from Gran’s brother. He just hadn’t done as well with it as Gran had done with the brewery. “I’m sure Gran has put your family in the will for a tidy sum.”

He snorted. “Not with all of you getting married and having brats. She won’t leave anything for us now. We
deserve
the treasure. You’ve got everything else—I won’t let you have that, too, you hear me? Not after how hard we’ve worked looking for it.”

“Treasure? What are you talking about?” she said, trying to hide her terror at the thought of the knife at her throat—one slip and she could die.

“Shh,” he whispered. “The digging has stopped.”

It had. Did that mean Giles had heard them? That he’d found Desmond? Or was Desmond just resting?

Moments later, they emerged into a clearing to find Giles
standing beside Desmond, holding a pistol to the man’s head. Her cousin was sweating heavily, and the shovel lay at his feet.

As soon as Giles saw her and Ned, the blood drained from his face. His gaze met hers, bleak with worry, but when it shifted back to Ned it held deadly intent. “I see you’re aiming to die, Ned,” he ground out. “Or at the very least, get your father killed.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” Ned cried. “If you do, I’ll . . . I’ll slit Minerva’s throat, I swear I will!”

“Then you and your father will both die.” Giles drew his other pistol out of his pocket to aim it at Ned’s head. “That treasure won’t do you much good then, will it?”

“Stop being an idiot, son!” Desmond said hoarsely, his eyes looking stark and wild. “Let her go! She’s your cousin, for God’s sake!”

The knife wavered at her throat. “She gets everything,” Ned said plaintively. “They all do. It’s not fair!”

Giles just stared him down. “You’ve got no good way out of this, man. You might as well accept it and let her go.”

“So you can have me and Father arrested for trespassing, or some other trumped-up charge? I saw your friends at the wedding—all those important gentlemen. You’ll make sure that Father and I are ruined.”

“He won’t do anything to you, I promise,” Minerva coaxed. “I won’t let him. You’re family, after all.”

“That’s what you say now,” Ned retorted, “but as soon as I let you go, you’ll have us both locked up.”

“You don’t think they’ll lock you up for killing her, you idiot?” Desmond cried. “They’ll hang you! Stop being a fool and think, for once in your life.”

At his father’s insults, Ned stiffened. “Just for that, I’ll take her off with me and leave you here with Masters. Let
him kill you—what do I care?” He tightened his arm around her waist and began trying to urge her back the way they’d come.

“Wait!” Giles cried. “What if we agree not to turn you over to the authorities? And help you find the treasure.”

“We’ve got a better map of the estate,” Minerva said, playing on Giles’s ploy. “It’s in my apron pocket.” If she could just get Ned to move that knife from her throat . . . “Compare it to your map, and you’ll see exactly where the treasure is buried.”

“How did you know about our map?” Desmond rasped.

“I’ve got my sources,” Giles said. “And they tell me that you’ve got a map that leads to where Mainwaring buried some jewels.”

Desmond shook his head. “Not jewels—Spanish gold, worth a fortune.”

“Well, you’re not going to see an ounce of it if you don’t get your bloody son there to let my wife go!” Giles growled.

“Ned, please!” Desmond cried.

“That other map of yours,” Ned said into her ear. “You really think you could find the gold with it?”

“I’ve already put them against each other to compare,” she said. “It looks to me like that gold is buried right next to the pond. If you get the map out of my apron pocket, I can show you.”

Ned hesitated, but greed won out. He slid his hand down to her apron pocket, letting out a grunt when he patted the outside and heard the crackle of paper. And as he slipped one hand inside the pocket, groping for the map, his other hand moved the knife away from her throat, just as she’d hoped.

In that instant, she brought the heel of her half-boot down on his instep as hard as she could and dropped to the ground.

Giles fired, the bullet whistling over her head. And Ned went down.

As smoke clouded the clearing, Giles tossed his spent pistol aside and rushed over to Minerva. He’d seen the glint in her eyes moments before she’d stomped Ned’s foot and had prepared himself for anything. Now his heart was about to pound right out of his chest at the thought that he might have hit her, even though Ned was the one writhing on the ground, screaming about his shoulder.

The first thing he saw when he reached her was the blood splattered all over her pretty gown. “Oh, God, Minerva!” he cried as he knelt beside her.

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s all his, my love. It’s not mine.”

He found Ned’s knife and threw it into the woods, then shoved his other pistol into his pocket so he could clutch her to him. What would he have done if he’d lost her? He wouldn’t have survived it.

Suddenly she stiffened and hissed, “Giles, behind you! Desmond—”

He rolled away with her in his arms, reaching for his pistol as the shovel came down a few inches from his head. Before Desmond could lift it again, Giles pointed the pistol at him. “I swear I’ll kill you,” he said, letting anger take him over. “You and that damned son of yours both.”

With an oath, Desmond lowered the shovel.

Giles rose, his pistol never wavering from the man.

Behind him, Ned groaned, “I’m dying, I tell you! You can’t let me die!”

“You’re not dying, Ned,” Giles heard Minerva say. “It looks like the bullet went clean through your shoulder. You’ll live.”