Harper drained his glass before setting it aside. “Mine, as well.”
Raine gave a slow shake of her head as the two men regarded each other in a silent battle of wills. Rather like two dogs vying for dominance.
She rolled her eyes as she reached for the bell to indicate they were prepared for dinner.
God save her from arrogant men.
DINNER MANAGED TO PASS without incident.
The food was plain but cooked to perfection, and Josiah was at his most charming as he entertained them with stories of his years on the high seas.
Harper contributed his own tales of his career in London, his self-effacing humor making Raine chuckle even as her stomach constricted with nerves.
At last the final dishes were whisked away and Foster entered with a tray of port and the inevitable box of cigars.
Raine rose to her feet with a smile. “I shall leave you to your cigars and chess match.” She waved her hand as the gentlemen began to scoot back their chairs. “No, please do not get up.” She flashed a smile toward their guest. “Mr. Harper, I shall be in the drawing room for the next hour or two. You need only call for me if you are in need of rescue.”
The young gentleman gave a nod of his head, but there was a glow in his eyes that revealed he had no intention of calling for rescue.
“I will keep that in mind,” he murmured.
Josiah sent her a triumphant glance as Foster began to set the chessboard on a small table beside the fireplace.
“Good night, love,” he murmured. “I shall see you in the morning.”
She performed a small curtsy before leaving the room and making her way up the stairs to the drawing room. Once there she closed the door and moved to seat herself on the small pianoforte and began picking out an absent tune. The sound of the instrument would be muted but unmistakable in the dining room.
Precisely what she needed to convince Mr. Harper she was nicely occupied while the Knave of Knightsbridge rampaged through the neighborhood.
It was less than a quarter of an hour later when Mrs. Stone slipped into the room and silently slid onto the bench beside Raine. In concert, Raine lifted her fingers from the keys and the housekeeper began to play the light tune.
The woman possessed little skill, but it was enough that she could pick out a few keys and keep the music floating through the house.
Raine rose to her feet and, ignoring Mrs. Stone’s worried gaze, she moved toward the back of the room and out the door. From there she could easily make her way down to the kitchens and out the back of the cottage.
She resisted the urge to peek into the window of the dining room and instead firmly crossed through the garden toward the stables. Her father would keep the magistrate well occupied for the next few hours. And the sooner she was on the road the better.
Entering the stables, she found her mare already saddled and a small satchel near the door. Foster was nothing if not efficient, and with a minimum of fuss Raine managed to pull off her gown and was tugging on her father’s gaudy attire.
As she buttoned the crimson jacket her fingers briefly faltered. She had not seen the garment since she had returned from London. She had not wanted to see it. Now she found herself recalling just how easily Philippe had slipped the jacket from her body. Dear heavens, his hands had been so tender, as if she were the most fragile object in the world.
A small sound rose to her throat as the vivid memories rushed through her mind. The scent of Philippe’s warm skin. The sound of his soft voice as he whispered in her ear. The manner in which his beautiful features softened when he touched her.
She gave a sharp shake of her head. No, she could not be distracted. Not now. Her father needed her full attention. She could not fail him.
Ignoring the odd ache that clutched at her heart, Raine finished dressing and led her mare from the stables. It was not until she was some distance from the cottage that she at last mounted her horse and settled into a comfortable pace.
The night was cold and the wind swiftly had her clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering as she headed directly toward the narrow path where she had overheard Mr. Harper and Timms plotting. They would be expecting the Knave of Knightsbridge to arrive with his treasure, and she knew that the magistrate would have men waiting to capture his foe. All she need do was to be seen in the vicinity before making a swift retreat.
Surely that would convince the stubborn man once and for all that her father and poor Foster had nothing to do with the flamboyant bandit?
Sending up a silent prayer that nothing went wrong on this night, Raine slowed her horse and edged toward the side of the path. Bathed in the light of the full moon, she knew her crimson cape would be easily visible. She needed to be prepared to flee at the first hint of danger.
She had nearly reached the spot where her father had promised to leave his bounty for the poor widow when Raine heard the unmistakable sound of a sneeze coming from the trees.
With a smile of relief she abruptly whirled her mare around and began pounding back down the path.
From behind she heard a sudden shout and the crash of men rushing to gather their horses to follow her.