When she reached a hackney station, she veered toward a small park that was set back from the street. She didn’t dare take the stallion straight to the livery where Frip waited, for she didn’t want to imperil Gandy’s cohort, who had helped her orchestrate her desperate rescue plan. Without a disguise, a horse of Emperor’s obvious caliber would be too memorable, and she hoped to conceal her trail as much as possible.
Thus, she tethered him to a hitching post beneath an oak tree and dug into her bag of tricks once more. Pulling out a tin of boot blacking, a small jar of white paint, and a leather pouch filled with mud, Maura set about trying to mask his most distinctive features as well as his magnificence, although the final step of turning him into a peddler’s nag would have to wait until she reached the livery.
She started by rubbing the blacking into the white star on his forehead. For a moment Emperor stood calmly, his bright eyes alert, but he shortly became impatient and fitful. Even though she murmured soothingly as she worked, he clearly disliked having two white socks and one white stocking painted on his legs.
“Please trust me, Emp,” Maura implored in a whisper. “This is for your own good.”
She had almost finished slathering his neck and hindquarters with mud to dull the shine of his coat when the stallion suddenly left off his fidgeting. His head shot up, his nostrils flaring to scent the wind.
When another carriage drove past on the street, Maura decided there was no reason for alarm—until she heard the quiet sound of hoofbeats directly behind her.
She froze, then bit back a scream when a wry male voice broke the silence. “Would you care to explain just what you are up to, sweeting?”
Emperor sensed her fear and whirled nervously, nearly knocking Maura down in the process. Upon regaining her balance, she stared up at the horseman who loomed over her. He was little more than a shadow in the darkness, but she had no trouble recognizing the Marquis of Beaufort. He had crept upon her without warning, the earthen ground having muted his mount’s approach.
Torn between relief and dismay, Maura brought a hand to her breast to cover her wildly beating heart. “You frightened me out of my wits,” she accused with a scowl.
“I doubt that,” he retorted curtly as he sat gazing down at her. “I repeat, what the devil are you doing?”
“What do you think? I am rescuing my horse, of course. I could ask the same of you, my lord,” she added. “Why are you here? It is the middle of the night.”
“Indeed it is. I suspected you might do something foolish,” he muttered, “but nothing this shatterbrained. You should know better than to wander the streets of London alone at night. It is far too dangerous for a woman.”
He was concerned for her safety, Maura realized, hearing the hard edge in his voice. “In the first place, this is Mayfair, not the stews of St. Giles. And in the second
, I am dressed as a lad and I am armed. I have a loaded pistol and a knife with me.”
“Don’t tell me … Gandy taught you how to shoot and wield a knife. But you are still taking a huge risk.”
“I am not afraid, Lord Beaufort, even if you did startle me half to death.”
He drew a long breath, as if striving for patience. “I am not questioning your courage, vixen, only your common sense. Even if you escape harm tonight, you could go to prison or worse. Horse thieves are usually hanged.”
Maura studied him warily. “Do you mean to try and stop me?”
“Do I stand a chance in hell of stopping you?”
Despite his withering sarcasm, his rejoinder suggested that he was resigned to her larceny. Relief flooded her, soothing the burning anxiety in her stomach. “Not unless you betray me to Deering.”
“I ought to,” Beaufort threatened, although with less heat than before. “Or better yet, throw you over my saddle and carry you home.”
That last was not an empty boast, Maura realized, recalling how easily he had manhandled her this morning in the park. But she didn’t believe he would actually follow through this time.
“I dare you to try it,” she said lightly. “I am armed, remember?”
“A pistol will be little protection if your theft is discovered.”
“Which is why I am doing my best to keep from being discovered.”
His gaze shifted to slide over the stallion. “I’ve been watching you these past five minutes, wondering what you were about. I see now that you’re attempting to disguise your splendid beast to avoid recognition.”
“Yes.”
Wiping her hand clean of mud in Emperor’s mane, Maura closed the pouch and stuffed it back into her knapsack. Then she bent to remove the cloth wrapping his hooves, since it would look strange if she rode into the livery on a horse with muffled feet.
“I have to give you credit,” Beaufort remarked grudgingly. “It was clever of you to think of the white markings.”
He was very clever himself to have deduced her intentions, she thought.