“I didn’t see what you were doing,” Rose replied weakly. She had been watching him and knew precisely what he had been doing. However, she hadn’t realised the implications until he began to lead the animal out of the small stable. “We can’t just steal a carriage. This belongs to somebody.”
“I am not stealing it,” Barnaby argued.
“Well, that’s what it looks like,” she protested. Her eyes widened further when he led the beast and carriage into the street and waved toward it. “You will not steal that carriage.”
“I warned you to shut up.”
“Or what?” she demanded. She placed her fists on her hips, daring him to do anything about what she now suspected were empty threats. The man was nothing more than an oaf. He grunted, swore, and threatened, but in all reality he was nothing more than a blustering buffoon. When he didn’t appear inclined to pay her any attention whatsoever, and continued to try to seal the carriage and horse, she glanced around the street in an attempt to try to find a way to stop him. She could call for help, but then that would alert Chadwick to where they were. Still, she had no intention of being arrested for helping anybody steal a carriage. Not even if was to leave the area while being chased by a deranged killer.
Barnaby heaved a sigh of relief that she had at least fallen quiet for the present. He hadn’t ever relished silence before. Now, he revelled in the quietude, not least because it gave him the time to think. Once in the carriage they would be sitting relatively high up and would be vulnerable, although not if they were moving at speed. They could get to the outskirts of town far faster than Chadwick could on foot. It was perfect for their purposes. If only he could get his nemesis to agree to sit on it for a while.
“I would have a better chance of building myself a bloody ark to get out of here, and using it,” he grumbled aloud.
Thankfully, the young woman seemed to have gotten the message that she wasn’t to speak unless it was essential. He would have been delighted by his success - if it wasn’t so darned quiet. Sensing that something was amiss, he glanced up.
His curse was vicious when he saw that the place where Rose had once stood was now empty.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Rose?” he whispered. He glanced around the yard. She wasn’t there. Withdrawing his gun, Barnaby cocked it and stepped around the cart so he could study the street.
“What the-?”
He stared in disbelief at the sight of the small termagant stomping her tiny feet down the street, her back ramrod straight, her small up-tilted nose pointed snootily at the stars. What she thought she was doing was beyond him. Unless she was going to beat Chadwick with her tongue she didn’t stand a chance against one of Sayers’ henchmen. It was like watching a lamb walking itself to slaughter. There was no earthly chance that any brief encounter was going to result in anything but bloodshed. Barnaby was half tempted to leave her to her own devices and send Chadwick commiserations if he captured her. But there was something about that spirited naivety that was compelling. He just couldn’t abandon her to her Fate. She deserved better than that.
He didn’t know how, or why, and it galled him to admit it, but she had very quickly started to grow on him. Alright, so she was a bit like a wart on the end of his nose at the moment, but she gave him something more than the dangers that surrounded them to think about. Not only that but secretively, deep down, if he was in his cups and too mindless to mind his words, he would briefly admit in a roundabout kind of way that he quite liked this argumentative, strangely spirited side to her. He could do without the sniping, incessant talking, and wilful defiance, but he admired the way she was determined to go her own way and fly in the face of reason. He couldn’t allow it to continue of course, but he admired it.
“God have mercy on my soul,” he muttered as he climbed aboard the carriage.
Knowing it was faster than chasing after her on foot, and better if they kept the transportation with them, Barnaby clicked the horse into a fast walk and went after her.
“I am not coming with you,” Rose snapped without breaking her stride when she saw the horse out of the corner of her eye. “I am not a thief.”
“I am not either,” Barnaby argued.
“Well, that carriage doesn’t belong to you, does it? In the eyes of the Law that means you have stolen it,” Rose reasoned.
“It isn’t stealing if I intend to ensure it is returned whence it came when I have finished with it,” Barnaby muttered in a conversational tone at odds with the desperate urge to flee that was currently surging through him. He glanced around the quiet street but, thankfully, couldn’t see Chadwick yet. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t appear at any given moment though.
“How do you intend to do that when you are planning to leave the area in the wretched thing?” Rose snorted disparagingly.
“I have the name of the street and can direct the person I leave these with to return them for me. I will pay them a few bob and send a bit to the owner to recompense him for the temporary loss of his carriage and any inconvenience it has caused,” Barnaby reasoned.
“I am not using it,” Rose persisted.
“Get on board,” Barnaby ordered. “We don’t have the time for this. The quicker we get out of here the safer we will be.”
“Where do you intend to take me?” Rose asked, one elegant brow lifted in snooty enquiry.
Barnaby sighed. He hated Fate sometimes. It couldn’t give him with some meek and feeble woman who would accede to his every order without protest. No, on this occasion, Fate was determined to have the last laugh and had landed him with the most argumentative, uncontrollable, and downright outspoken harridan known to mankind.
“Somewhere safer. Now get in,” Barnaby snapped impatiently.
She didn’t know it but Barnaby had been out on the balcony since before the ball had even started. He had known about C
hadwick’s meeting for several days and had selected his vantage point in the town carefully so he could see who the man had intended to meet. He hadn’t been able to get any closer to the coal yard to hear what was said, but had instead settled on the balcony to wait and see what happened. It had been essential that he discover who Chadwick’s contacts were so the Star Elite could arrest them later. What Barnaby hadn’t anticipated was for Chadwick to murder them.
Chadwick may not know it just yet but, as far as the Star Elite was now concerned, he was a hunted man. It was a little ironic at the moment that Chadwick was the one doing the hunting. However, that situation could be remedied just as soon as Barnaby had stashed his wall-flower tyrant out of sight, preferably protected by one of his colleagues rather than himself.