He had stopped behind a large oak by the opening into the lane that led to the turnpike road. ‘All clear.’ He turned towards the highway.
‘The village is that way.’ Caroline pointed to the footpath that led away across the meadows.
‘I said in the note to meet us at the junction where the gibbet is. With any luck no one will see the carriage and they certainly would if it were to drive into the village to collect us. If we keep to the wheel ruts we will avoid leaving tracks in the dewy grass.’
Caroline hitched up her skirts, jumped the shallow ditch and followed. ‘They gibbeted Black Sam Baggins the highwayman there last year and they haven’t taken the remains down yet. It’s disgusting.’
‘All the more reason for no one to suspect you’d be hanging around there—if you’ll pardon the expression—waiting for a passing vehicle.’
* * *
When they reached the sinister black gallows with the dangling iron cage Gabriel contemplated the revolting object while Caroline studiously counted how many varieties of wild flower she could see in the opposite hedge.
‘There’s not a lot left of him,’ Gabriel remarked.
‘Some of the local people stole his clothes very early on, before he began to...you know. And now the superstitious ones have been taking bits as they drop off—finger and toe bones and so forth. They grind them up and put them in medicines. Apparently fragments of highwaymen aren’t as efficacious as murderers, but we haven’t had any of those for many years, thank goodness.’
‘What on earth are deceased highwayman’s toes supposed to cure?’ Gabriel sounded more intrigued than disgusted. ‘There’s a fallen tree over there you can sit on while we wait. It looks dry, it is shielded from the road and you won’t have to contemplate the remains of Black Sam.’
Caroline sat down. ‘I think the bones are a cure for toothache and sore throats.’
‘I’d rather have the sore throat. You stay here.’ Gabriel melted away into the undergrowth.
By straining her eyes she could just make him out, still and watchful, his attention on the road. For a man who said he spent little time communing with nature, he certainly knew how to take advantage of it when he needed to. His russet greatcoat with its modest double cape and the conker-brown leather of his boots merged into the mottled foliage of the hedgerow and his dark head was hidden in the shade as the sun at last began to penetrate the trees.
As she stared she was able to make out one ungloved hand resting on the low bough of a young oak, then the sunlight sparked a glint of light off something metallic and she realised he was holding a pistol. If her father came, or Lucas, would he fire? Would she want him to? Of course not. But he wouldn’t, she told herself. He would threaten, that was all. Gabriel wasn’t reckless, nor really a criminal. He simply had a rather broader view of acceptable behaviour for an earl than she was used to.
There was the thud of hooves, felt through the soles of her boots before she heard it, then the jingle of a harness and an elegant carriage, glossy black and driven by a team of fine bays, appeared around the corner and drew up opposite her. The horses sidled and snorted, sensing perhaps the horrid thing hanging from the gibbet, and the coachman soothed them with a murmured word.
They stilled and for a moment nothing moved. Then Gabriel stepped out into the road, the hand that had held the pistol empty at his side. ‘Good morning to you, Thomas.’
The coachman touched the brim of his hat. ‘Good morning, my lord.’
The door on the far side from Caroline swung open and a man got out. ‘This is a damnably early hour for anything but a duel, Gabe,’ he remarked, his voice a pleasant drawl. ‘Have you any idea what time I had to get out of my bed?’
‘Did you bother to go to it?’ Gabriel enquired. Caroline caught a glimpse of him across the backs of the horses as he strode forward and took the other man by the shoulders in a brief, fierce embrace.
‘Oh, yes,’ his friend said with a chuckle as he returned the gesture with a buffet to Gabriel’s arm. ‘My lady wife expects me to act in a husbandly manner these days.’ Despite the laughter in his voice it was obvious to Caroline that this was one husband who was not bored with his marital bed.
‘And how is Lady Weybourn?’ Gabriel led his friend around the carriage.
‘Blooming, now the queasiness has left her. But why the devil am I summoned to this particularly gruesome spot at the crack of dawn?’
‘To rescue a lady in distress. Caroline, come and meet Alex Tempest.’
She emerged from her hiding place and walked towards them, smiling slightly at the contrast between Gabriel’s wild looks and the careless way he wore his plain and practical clothing and the elegant gentleman with the quizzical brows and the fashionable crop.
‘Oh, well done, Gabe,’ Viscount Weybourn said as she emerged. ‘And about time, too.’
Chapter Ten
‘No,’ Gabriel said. ‘No, no, and absolutely no. You have the wrong end of the stick, Alex.’ Caroline was staring at him as though he was talking complete nonsense. Alex was within a whisker of a smirk. And of receiving a right hook to the chin.
‘Lady Caroline, may I present Alex Tempest, Viscount Weybourn. Alex, Lady Caroline Holm, the daughter of Lord Knighton. Lady Caroline finds it necessary to leave her home clandestinely. Alone.’
‘Alone?’ Alex’s infuriatingly expressive eyebrows rose. ‘Then this is not an elo—’
‘Absolutely not.’ Caroline, thankfully, was still looking mystified. Gabriel contemplated kicking Alex on the ankle, then settled for saying, ‘I am merely helping Lady Caroline remove herself from her father’s house.’