Forsters 04 - Romancing the Runaway Read online

  Miranda rode quickly, partly to keep warm, but mostly to ensure she was nowhere near Delroy Point when her absence was discovered. That would be in not much more than an hour’s time, since Mr. Peacock disapproved of anyone in his house lying about in bed after sunup. For once she’d done something that would meet with his approval.

  “No one can accuse us of being idle this morning,” she told Tobias. He nodded his big head as though he understood her, which Miranda firmly believed he did.

  She rode on, confident that she knew where she was—more or less. After two hours of steady progress, she felt mildly euphoric when she came to the Denby road.

  “Probably best to avoid the town,” she told Bianca and Tobias. “If—no, when Mr. Peacock comes looking for me, people are bound to remember us. We’re not exactly inconspicuous, are we, my sweets.”

  There was a well-worn track that skirted the village, taking them in approximately the right direction. She followed it with confidence, filled with relief at her narrow escape. She would have been missed by now but no one would think to look in this direction, at least not immediately. Having spent the past five years at school in London, the capital was the obvious place for her to go. She had friends there—people who would take her in and refuse Mr. Peacock access to her. Well, that was what she wished Mr. Peacock to believe, at any rate. By the time he realised his mistake, she would be safe and he would have missed his opportunity to drag her back to his prison of a home.

  Miranda was lost in a reverie and didn’t notice that the track had become rutted and uneven until Bianca lurched to a halt, her foreleg stuck in a rabbit hole.

  “Oh no!”

  She slid to the ground and gently removed her mare’s leg from its trap, hoping against hope that she hadn’t damaged it. She ran her hand across the fetlock and felt heat. It was already swelling and Bianca was unable to put much weight on it.

  “Damnation, why wasn’t I being more careful?”

  What to do? She’d never reach her destination now. There was still a good five miles to go. She and Bianca both had swollen fetlocks and so neither of them was in a fit state to travel very much further. She looked about her, hoping for inspiration. She had no idea whose land this was. There were no houses in sight, and no people to ask. Then her gaze alighted on a small barn a few hundred yards away.

  That would have to do.

  She hobbled in that direction, leading Bianca behind her, apologising all the time to her mare for allowing her to injure herself. Perhaps she should have headed for the shore, but now it was too late. If swimming in the ocean and drinking iodine-rich seawater—the cure for the gout that the Prince of Wales had made fashionable—was so effective, perhaps it would work on Bianca’s fetlock too.

  “Don’t be so foolish, Miranda,” she said aloud. “Besides, it’s too far away and we’d be spotted before we got halfway there.”

  She reached the barn, which appeared to be in good condition. She hoped it wasn’t in regular use. She needed somewhere for the three of them to rest until she decided what to do next. The door swung open when she lifted the latch and her spirits lifted with it. At last something had gone right for her. The barn was warm, relatively speaking, the caulking between the boarded walls fresh and tight. It was also full of sweet-smelling hay.

  “Well, at least you won’t go hungry, darling,” she told Bianca.

  *

  Gabriel Forster stepped out the side door of the Hall and headed for the stables, relieved to have escaped the madness of a London season in full swing. He had returned home on the pretext of being needed at the stud that he ran for his brother Hal, Marquess of Denby. Hal probably wasn’t deceived but allowed him to leave anyway. And now here he was, in his ancestral home with no demands upon his time except those he wished to place upon it himself. The majority of the staff was in town with the family and Gabe was free to please himself.

  He breathed deeply of the cold, crisp air, filled his lungs with it and felt alive, truly alive. Who could possibly prefer the crowded ton when they had all this as an alternative? Clad in a greatcoat and warm boots, he walked into the stud and surprised the grooms going about their early morning duties.

  “Morning, m’lord,” said Carter, Gabe’s stud manager. “You’re about early.”

  “No time to waste in bed.” Gabe ran his eye over the row of heads peering inquisitively over their half-doors and paused to give Rominus, the Trakehner stallion he was responsible for introducing to the stud, a quick rub on the nose. “Everything in order?”

  “Aye, it is that.”

  “Another poultice has gone missing, Mr. Carter,” one of the grooms burst in to say. “Oh sorry, m’lord, didn’t see you there.”

  “What’s all this about missing poultices, Carter?” Gabe asked.

  “Not sure. That’s three now over the past two days. One of the youngsters took a knock a couple of days ago and we’ve been making up hot poultices to treat the swelling.” Carter scratched his head. “It’s odd.”

  “Perhaps one of the lads treated the injury without your knowledge?” Gabe suggested.

  “No, I’ve asked them all.”

  “Then you’re right. It is odd.”

  “That’s what we can’t figure out, m’lord. It’s mighty peculiar. And some of the food Mrs. Goodson sent over for our breakfast. We thought it was the lad from the village who comes up every day, offering to help. He’s got hollow legs has that one.”

  “It can’t have been him, Mr. Carter,” the groom said. “He’s not been up the past two days. His ma’s ill, apparently, and he’s needed at home.”

  “It’s a rum deal, so it is,” Carter said. “Who’d want to steal poultices and our damned breakfast? It’s not as though we have any close neighbours.”

  “Who indeed?” It was damned strange, Gabe thought as he tacked up Murphy, his grey Irish stallion, intent upon a ride around the estate. He’d been meaning to do a circuit for the past couple of days. Although Hal’s employees were efficient, he still liked to check on things for himself. But the weather had been perishing and Gabe had other duties that kept him indoors. Still, if there was a petty thief abroad it might be fun trying to track him down. The food disappearing Gabe could understand. The men probably hadn’t put it aside carefully enough and the dogs had helped themselves, most like. But poultices? He shook his head. Who the devil would want them?

  Murphy was anxious to stretch his legs after several days of being cooped up inside. Gabe gave him his head, still thinking about the oddity of the thefts. Urchins from the village would have a five-mile walk if they were intent upon thieving. Somehow he couldn’t see them bothering. No, Carter must have got it wrong. Someone had used the poultices and forgotten to account for them. As to the food…well, if it wasn’t the dogs, someone just got greedy and was too embarrassed to own up.

  Something flew across the path in front of them, surprising Murphy and causing him to rear up. Gabe struggled to regain control of his horse, talking soothingly to him until he stopped pawing the ground and remembered his manners.

  “What the devil was that? Looked like a damned wolf.”

  Curious, Gabe steered Murphy in the direction the beast had disappeared in. It led to one of the barns dotted around the estate, used for storing hay. No one should be in this part of the park at this time of year but footprints in the frosty grass leading to the barn told a different story. Gabe dismounted and opened the door.

  The wolf followed him inside. It turned out to be a large domestic dog that wagged its tail at Gabe as it trotted up to sniff his hand. Gabe absently scratched his ears. He’d been half right to assume it was a wolf. It definitely had Irish wolfhound in its makeup but was far from pure bred. It had lopsided ears, gangly legs, a thick, shaggy grey coat and different coloured eyes. In short, it was the sorriest excuse for a dog he’d ever seen. Even so, Gabe rather liked the chap. It wasn’t his fault if his breeding was off.

  “Who are you?” he asked, turning his attention to a
magnificent palomino Arab mare with what was presumably a Forster poultice wrapped around its off-fore. “Well, that’s one mystery solved.” He touched the mare’s neck and then ran his hand down the injured leg.

  It took him a moment to find the owner of this odd assortment of creatures. She was wedged between several bales of hay, wearing a habit, a cloak and an inappropriate hat, and was covered with a blanket he recognised as belonging to the Forster tack room—another theft Carter had failed to notice, presumably. The woman—no, girl, since she was very young—was sound asleep. Her lips were blue and she was trembling quite violently, which was hardly surprising. The temperature fell dramatically at night this time of year and if she’d been here any length of time she would be freezing—hopefully not literally—to death.

  Gabe took a moment to examine her more closely before waking her. Her hair, like his, was dark blond, shades of light and dark reflected in its rich thickness. She was very slim, he could tell that much despite the layers that covered her. She had a small nose bedecked with freckles, high cheekbones and a deathly pale complexion. It was impossible to see the colour of her eyes since they were firmly closed, covered by a generous fall of lashes. Even so, Gabe felt they ought to be blue.

  The girl wasn’t beautiful, especially when compared to his sister-in-law Beth, whom many supposed Gabe might eventually marry. Even so, something inside him lurched as he watched the sleeping infiltrator. There was an air of desperate vulnerability about her, obvious even in repose. Her horse was first-rate, as was the sidesaddle and bridle left in the corner of the barn. Her clothing was plain but of good quality. No one of her station in life would hide out in a barn in a remote corner of a private estate in the dead of winter unless they were in deep trouble.

  Gently Gabe shook her shoulder and her eyes flew open. They were indeed the deepest, most fathomless blue he’d ever seen in any woman’s face. They were also filled with alarm and she was trembling, but whether that was still from cold or was now attributable to fright Gabe was unable to conjecture.

  “How long have you been here?” Gabe asked.

  “Where…who are…” She blinked several times, as though trying to bring him into focus. “What day is it?”

  He flashed a reassuring smile. “Wednesday.”

  “Then I must have been here for two days.”

  She didn’t seem too sure about that. Gabe could see she was in some distress but before he could advise her not to move, she gulped and tried to stand up. Her legs gave out beneath her immediately, her eyes clouded over and she fainted clean away.

  Chapter Two

  Gabe caught her just before she fell into the hay. She was as light as air, in spite of the many layers of clothing she’d used to ineffectually ward off the cold. Her hands were like ice, as was her face when he placed a hand on her brow, and she was still shivering uncontrollably. He didn’t require medical knowledge to understand she was suffering from the effects of exposure. He needed to get her somewhere warm and there was no time to spare.

  Her eyes fluttered open but remained unfocused. Gabe took off his heavy coat and wrapped her in it, which is when she started to struggle.

  “Don’t be afraid,” he said softly. “You’re safe now and I’m going to take you somewhere warm.”

  “I didn’t…not a…thief, I didn’t—”

  “Shush.” He pushed strands of hair away from her damp forehead, worried that she was actually going to die. “It’s going to be all right,” he said, reassuring himself as much as her.

  “No. Money…have to pay…can’t steal—”

  She was delirious, but clearly had something important she wished to say. Gabe picked her up and carried her outside, keeping her face turned towards his chest to protect it from the biting cold. The dog trotted along beside them, obviously set to follow wherever his mistress went.

  Gabe was now presented with another problem. It wouldn’t be possible for him to mount Murphy with the girl in his arms. What to do?

  “Do you think you can stand for a moment?” he asked.

  She mumbled something, but Gabe didn’t think she’d even heard his question. With no other choice available to him, decisive action was called for. He placed her on the ground but she couldn’t support herself and slithered to her knees, still babbling incoherently. Gabe swung into his saddle, moved Murphy right next to her and then leaned over as far as he could.

  “Give me your hands!” he urged.

  He had to repeat the request three times before he got through to her and she lifted her arms. Grunting from the effort it took, Gabe used all his strength to pull her up in front of him. She didn’t weigh much but was a dead weight because she wasn’t helping him.

  Once they were both on Murphy’s back, Gabe turned his stallion in the direction of the Hall. He knotted the reins so they wouldn’t dangle down and cradled his unnamed guest against his chest, using both arms, attempting to infuse some of his own body warmth into her.

  “Take us home as quick as you can, Murphy.”

  Gabe sank his calves into Murphy’s flanks, and the stallion took off at a smooth canter, well trained enough to require no further direction. The young woman clung to him, shivering still and muttering incomprehensible words as Murphy covered the two miles that separated them from the Hall. The dog loped beside them, constantly glancing up at him. Gabe felt a great sense of achievement when they arrived and the girl’s condition didn’t seem to have deteriorated.

  Murphy slowed, his hooves clattering over the cobbled yard. Carter came running out, presumably wondering whose horse it was since he wouldn’t have expected Gabe back so soon.

  “I solved the mystery of your missing poultices,” Gabe said to his bemused manager. “Quick, take her from me.”

  He handed the girl to Carter and slid from Murphy’s back. A groom came to take the stallion and led him away.

  “She was in the North Barn,” Gabe said, taking his uninvited and unnamed guest back from Carter. “Been there a couple of days, far as I can ascertain.”

  Carter blinked. “I’m surprised she survived this long then. It’s been below freezing these past nights.”

  “I need to get her warm.” Gabe turned towards the house. “There’s a mare in that barn with a swollen fetlock.”

  “Are you telling me she walked two miles and back every day to get poultices and food?” Carter appeared bemused. “She must be desperate. Wonder who she is.”

  That was what Gabe would very much like to know. “Send someone to bring the mare back here and attend to her fetlock. There are also some personal belongings of the girl’s. Have them sent up to the house.”

  “Very good, m’lord.”

  Gabe strode off with the semi-conscious woman in his arms, calling for the housekeeper as soon as he was inside.

  “Oh, good heavens!” Mrs. Goodson said when she responded to his summons and found Gabe standing in the centre of the massive entrance hall with his unconventional visitor still in his arms. “Whatever do we have here?”

  “She’s been exposed to the elements for several days, Mrs. Goodson. She needs to be warmed up. One of the smaller guest rooms might be easier to heat.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it would.”

  Mrs. Goodson sprang into action. A huge fire was lit in one of rooms and warming pans were sent for. Gabe carried her up and left her to the care of the housekeeper and maids.

  “Let me know if you think I should send for the doctor,” Gabe said.

  “I doubt that will be necessary.” Mrs. Goodson examined the girl and calmly took control of the situation. “Do we know her name, my lord?”

  “I know absolutely nothing about her. I discovered her camped out in the North Barn.”

  “You probably saved her life, the poor lamb. She wouldn’t have survived for much longer in these conditions. It’s been bitterly cold.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Gabe paused as a thought occurred to him. “Don’t leave her unattended, Mrs. Goodson. Have a maid
remain with her until she regains her senses.”

  Mrs. Goodson nodded. “Yes, that would probably be for the best.”

  Gabe had barely left his nameless visitor with Mrs. Goodson and returned downstairs before the girl’s personal belongings were delivered to him. He looked through them, hoping to find a clue as to her identity. She had a change of clothing wrapped in a bundle, some money, a rabbit’s foot and, most interestingly of all, a journal. Gabe opened the cover, expecting to find a name scrawled on the flyleaf. He wasn’t disappointed.

  His guest was one Miss Miranda Cantrell.

  “Miranda. Hmm, the name suits her.”

  Disappointingly there was nothing more written on that flyleaf. No direction and no indication of where she’d come from. Gabe hesitated, sorely tempted to turn the pages and learn more about his mystery lady. After all, she’d been trespassing on Forster property and, were it not for him, he didn’t imagine she would have survived another night out in the open. Even so, Gabe resisted such ungentlemanly behaviour. He would just have to be patient and wait for her to tell him more about her circumstances when she was in a position to do so.

  “We’ve managed to warm her up, my lord,” Mrs. Goodson reported a little later. “She’s regained a little colour but has a slight fever and a swollen ankle, which we’ve attended to.”

  “Has she said anything?”

  “She keeps talking, but isn’t making much sense.”

  Gabe nodded. She and her horse both had sprained fetlocks, and yet she’d still made a four-mile round trip to get food and supplies for the pair of them. He shook his head, admiring her fortitude and determination, wondering what desperate situation she’d been attempting to run away from. “Is she awake?”