Chapter Seventeen

"W hat on earth happened between you and the Earl of Saville?" Louisa said as she plopped down onto the sofa of the drawing overlooking the street.

Theodosia sighed, her heart still frantically beating in her chest. Honestly, what had just happened? Her mind still lingered on Field's question in a daze. Had she done the right thing sending him away? She was safe, the book was safe, and he had long ago received the answer he pursued her from London for—everything was settled. How many hours had passed since she'd seen his face—three? Yet his voice still echoed in her ears.

It felt as though a big, gaping hole settled in her heart where it ought to have been full of conviction and life and spirit.

She'd had lunch with Louisa and her little brother almost immediately after arriving, so they couldn't talk freely, but now the two of them were in the drawing room, and her friend's gaze probed her with unrestrained curiosity.

She plopped down next to Louisa, the strength draining from her body.

He wanted to know what she wanted. He'd said he was haunted by her touch. By Jove, hearing Field say such things, ask such things, was like being in a hurricane, ravaging her wits and almost destroying all good sense. That one little sentence, that one question, the memory of his gruff voice along with all the images of that night...

She cast a glance through the window.

Your touch haunts me, too.

Would he come back again?

Your words haunt me.

Would she send him away if he did?

Everything about you haunts me.

What on earth did he expect her to do?

What do you want, Field Savage?

"Louisa, let me ask you a question." Theodosia looked to her friend. "What would cause you to decide against marrying a particular man?"

Her friend shrugged. "I wouldn't marry a fortune hunter, a criminal, or a man with too much power."

"Goodness, you certainly know what you don't want," Theodosia muttered. "But men with too much power? How on earth do you determine that?"

"Kings, princes, and dukes."

"Are you saying men with lesser titles have lesser power?"

"Of course not—and I hope I would use good judgement in those cases—but men who are kings, princes, and dukes are powerful by way of their titles alone. A mere mortal such as myself can never compete with them."

"You want to compete with such power?"

"No, I don't want to. That is why I won't even entertain such men."

"I understand kings and prices, but a duke is the most sought after title in the ton . Would you not also have power as a duchess?"

"Perhaps, but I've seen too many people abuse their powers. I'd rather not have power at all if there is even the slightest possibility I might abuse it in the future."

Well, to each their own, Theodosia supposed. Yet this did not help her at all.

Louisa tilted her head thoughtfully. "What about you? You must have a reason for asking me this. Are you perhaps thinking of a certain earl?"

"Lord, no." Yes . . . "We would never suit."

"Well, you are right on that score."

Theodosia's back shot straight. Why not ? "Then you agree?"

Louisa shrugged. "The earl was one of the main men responsible for listing out our best and worst traits on the heiress list. He also hounded your every step thereafter. You've loathed him forever."

She did.

She had.

Though not so much anymore. To be honest, the book, the hounding—they didn't bother her much at all anymore. If they still did, even foxed, she would never have instigated a kiss that led to a night of fire. Images filled her head again, and she shut her eyes against them.

"So, are you going to tell me why it looks as though you both just stepped out of Napoleon's war?"

"Get comfortable. It's a long story." Theodosia proceeded to inform her friend of all that had transpired since she'd left for Brighton, except for some intimate bits. Though she did confess they'd kissed.

"You kissed Saville? The Saville? As in you kissed him ? The man who was outside my house mere hours ago looking like an untamed warrior?"

Well, she wouldn't go that far. "Shocking, I know."

"Well, I suppose I can see it happening."

"You can?" Theodosia asked skeptically.

"You are both rather like twin tempests clashing with each other. Such a clash could either have disastrous results or perhaps be filled with explosive passion."

Explosive passion?

She thought back to the night they became intimately acquainted with each other. Nothing about that night had been disastrous. How they both had handled it after—now that might be another story.

"It seems to me I might have been wrong." Louisa smiled at her. "Perhaps you are more suitable for each other than I thought."

"I certainly have much to think about."

What do you want, Theodosia King?

"In the meantime," Louisa said, "you should get some rest."

Field's bow, the look on his face as he left her filled her mind. "No, I must..."

Louisa cocked her head. "You must?"

His back as he walked away. "I must..."

"Theo?"

Theodosia leaped to her feet. "I must borrow your carriage." She must find Field Savage this moment. Chase him down. She must... must... tell him! Lord, this was the most ridiculous thing ever. In truth, she didn't know what she wanted to tell him, but she needed to tell him... something. She'd know the what of it the moment her eyes fell on him.

She was sure.

"You wish to travel to Brighton so soon?" A knowing glint entered her eyes. "Or chase down a certain earl?"

Theodosia pulled Louisa up from the sofa. "Well, he has certainly chased me down more than enough times. I see no reason why I can't do the same."

"I don't think you'll have to chase far."

"Don't be so sure about that." The man must be annoyed with her. He was probably well on his way to London already, driven to speed by vexation.

And she didn't want to tarry. Her legs felt restless, as though a thousand red ants crawled over them.

She needed to move.

"My carriage is at your disposal."

"Thank you, Louisa." She tapped the satchel, which had not left her side since she'd arrived. "The book is here. Don't lose it."

"So I just keep it safe?"

Theodosia nodded. "Yes, just keep it safe until further notice."

"I can do that."

"Oh, and if the Duke of Mortimer appears on your doorstep for the book, you can hand it over."

"The Duke of Mortimer? Oh, yes. You said the book is important for a future investigation." She clutched the satchel to her chest and peered through a window that looked out onto the street. "Ah, splendid. The carriage is still... still..." A pause. "Ah, Theodosia?"

"What? Is something wrong?"

"I don't mean to alarm you," Louisa said slowly, poking at the window, "but aren't those your brothers?"

Theodosia whirled, ducking down out of instinct. She craned her neck to peek through the window.

Lord, oh, Lord.

They . . . How? Here?

"How did they even think to come to your house? I cannot let them find me here!" She couldn't get caught. Not now. Not at this moment. They would demand answers, answers she couldn't give until she had figured them out for herself.

And... was that Sandgrove ? How was it possible that he could even be here? And with her brothers! He was still asleep when they left. Had he woken up and noticed they were gone? Oh, what did it matter, Theodosia? He was here ! With Seth, Joshua, and Broden! By now Sandgrove would have told them she was with Saville, which would at least account for them beginning their search for her so quickly. But why come here? Unless they gathered that Saville would take her to her nearest friend. Or perhaps they found Sandgrove's carriage and driver.

That might be more plausible.

Needless to say, she was dead. Dead, gone, alive no more.

Her gaze flicked over the faces of her brothers. Yes. Definitely dead and gone.

"What should we do?" Louisa asked, her wide eyes flying to her. "We need to leave this drawing room!" The words scarcely left her lips before Louisa was dragging her from the room by the arm.

"Louisa." She pulled her friend to a halt. "I need to leave here."

"Yes, of course." Louisa patted her shoulder. "We shall sneak out the back. Then I shall distract them for you while you make a dash for my carriage. What do you think?"

She thought it brilliant.

*

Saville tossed back a brandy and glared at nothing in particular in the tavern he'd come across. He hadn't been of a mind to do anything but stop, collect his thoughts, and have a drink to settle the nerves that wouldn't stop wrecking his chest. Four hours later, he hadn't come to any sort of epiphany. Should he bellow up to the heavens and demand his answers?

Why the hell did his chest feel so tight?

Why the hell did he feel like shite?

And why, just why the hell, couldn't he get that minx from his mind?

Was he in love with her?

Field gave the question some serious thought. He'd followed her about after the list had become public to atone for his sins. They had bickered throughout that ordeal, and she'd led him around by the nose more than once. And yet, there was something about her that he hadn't been able to break free from. And when the time had come to move on—the day she'd left London, his opportunity to release himself from the burden of the heavy weight of his mistakes—he'd given chase after her.

Christ in Heaven.

Why else would he think a woman flawlessly perfect and perfectly flawless if he didn't... if he didn't...

Love her.

He was in love with Theodosia King.

Field slammed his glass onto the table. I'm in love with her.

Smitten. Besotted. Bewitched. And not even damn slightly. Head over deuced heels.

He glared at his empty glass, then refilled it from the decanter on his table.

What a shambles.

How could he fall in love with the one woman who loathed him beyond reason? Oh, very well, she might not loathe him beyond reason anymore, but she certainly didn't accept him. If he had to hazard a guess, he would say she tolerated him more than anything else.

The only time she'd ever appeared taken with him was when she'd been foxed. But the next morning she'd been so alarmed by him that she wanted them to pretend nothing at all had happened. As though he had been a mistake.

Field sighed and took another swallow, then he lifted the glass to his eyes. This smooth golden liquid was much more appealing than the sharp, biting, translucent stuff.

What would Selena do if she were him?

Field shook his head. Hell must truly have descended upon him. How else could he ever have come a point where he missed his sister's insights? Plus, Theodosia was her friend, was she not? More than likely, Selena would just torture him for a while and only after that consider helping him.

The doors of the tavern opened and a group of burly men entered.

Everlasting hell.

Could an earl not catch some luck? He ducked his head to the side, averting his gaze.

How? Why?

A familiar feeling filled him. He hadn't seen them when he'd hidden beneath his own damn desk in his study, but he had felt their presence. And he recognized them instantly now. Kings.

"Let's get a drink before we decide our next step," one of them said. Wait. Why did he find that voice so annoying?

Sandgrove.

Field whispered another curse.

Luckily he'd chosen the corner that most reflected his mood—the darkest.

He ruffled his hair, wishing he had a damn cap. Or hell, even a bonnet. But angling his face away would have to do. He could do nothing but stay. Leaving would mean he'd have to rise. And rising meant catching their attention.

My chances of death today just raised a notch. Or six. Or fifteen.

A shuffle of chairs. "Do you think Lady Louisa was lying?" Field recognized Kingsley's voice.

So they had been to Lady Louisa's? Had they found Theodosia there? No. They wouldn't be here if they had.

"Just how the devil did our sister get caught up with that lout?" a deep voice asked.

Lout? Were they speaking about him?

"An apt description, my lord," Sandgrove said. Field rolled his eyes. The man was a toad.

A grunt. "Call me Joshua. And being held up by highwaymen is one thing, but why didn't she come home? Why didn't that arse escort her home?"

Ah, well. Field had wondered the same thing. But there had been the betting book and his horse. Not to mention what he now understood to be his desire to stay by Theodosia's side longer.

"It is clear he's attached himself to your sister," Sandgrove said.

If I am attached, then what the hell are you? I , at least, don't cling. Or did he? He ground his teeth. He was not Sandgrove.

"Where do you think they've gone?" Kingsley asked.

Field furrowed his brows. So they believe he and Theodosia were still together.

"London? Brighton?" Another voice—low, constrained—suggested. Another King, but which one, Field could not be sure.

"I don't bloody know," Kingsley muttered.

"Or they might have found another farm or cottage to hide at?" Joshua suggested. "What exactly do we do about the lout? What if he's kidnapped her?"

Kidnap his arse! You're the lout, you King blackguard.

"I'll snap his neck," the low voice said. God help him, but Field believed this low-voiced King meant to do just that.

But it won't be that easy, pup.

"Don't worry, we'll deal with him," Kingsley said. "Together."

Then again, there's that familiar sense of doom.

"I saw you speaking with that messenger. Did he bring news of the highwaymen who robbed Theo?" Kingsley asked. "The servants responsible?"

Field's ears perked up.

"Yes, Biorn sent word that he and Caleb are working with a constable to find their whereabouts," Joshua said.

Biorn and Caleb—they must be the twins.

"Good," Kingsley said. "I want the maid and driver found and dealt with accordingly."

Good.

"Oh, don't worry, brother," Joshua said. "They shall have their comeuppance."

"What about the sketches?" Kingsley asked. "Can we trust them? Do you truly believe they're Theo and Saville?"

Sketches? What the devil was this ?

"If they were drawn by the constable's man you've been in contact with," Sandgrove said, "then it's probably so. As I said, he's been traveling as one of the highwaymen himself and would have seen with his own eyes the pair that the band is chasing."

Three curses met Field's ears. He silently added another few in his head. They already knew a lot more about his adventures with Theodosia than he thought they ever would.

"We should be sure it's them. Sketches can be vague," the low timbre came again.

"A woman dressed as a man?" Joshua said. "Come now, Broden. If that doesn't sound like Theo, I don't know what does. But you may have a point about the lout dressed in women's clothes. I cannot envision it as Saville."

"I can," Kingsley's tart tone came.

Field pulled a face.

"Either way, it's still Theo. It must be," Joshua said. "Remember how she dressed up Caleb and Biorn when they were boys? She would put on their clothes and she forced them into hers. Poor twins."

Field raised his glass and took a long swallow.

Good for you, Theodosia.

But having been subjected to that particular nightmare, he had to admit he did have some sympathy for the pups.

"Let's not get off track," Kingsley said. "About the highwaymen—what did Biorn's note say?"

"Well, this Black Knight has his men scouring the countryside," Joshua answered. "The boys believe they followed them, or who they believe to be them, to Ashton."

Field frowned.

"Impressive," Sandgrove said. "How did they discover that?" Good question.

A moment of silence. Then Joshua said, "I believe the note said that there's a farmer, his wife, and their boys looking for two people with similar description—different dress, though. Apparently, Caleb ran into the group."

Those people were still searching for them, too?

Kingsley cursed. "Are you certain? How the devil could you lose their letter?"

"He's an idiot," Low-voice said flatly.

Field snorted, then cursed. Quietly.

If the Black Knight was in the area, in Ashford, then Dream—Dream was a big, fat beacon. At the moment, he was tethered in the dedicated stable outside, out of obvious public sight. But that didn't mean those ruffians couldn't ferret him out.

Then there was Theodosia.

Was she still at Lady Louisa's? Had she hidden under a desk like he had? She would stay at her friend's house until she was ready to leave, that much he was certain of. Unless she believed arriving in Brighton before her brothers would give her the advantage of pretending nothing about their trip had happened.

The simplest course of action would be to hide rather than risk traveling to Brighton and getting caught by her brothers midway there. She would want to hang onto her freedom for as long as she was able. But there was always a but with Theodosia King. And she never took the simplest course of action.

And that meant . . .

She was probably on the road.

"Then do we travel to Brighton?" Broden asked.

A short pause. "No," Kingsley said. "We caught up to Theo quickly. Whatever her reason for coming to Ashford, I'm not sure she's had time to accomplish it yet. And you know how determined she can be."

"So what then?" Joshua asked. "We station ourselves on every street?"

"No," Brodan's low voice dropped another octave. "We turn over Ashford first."

"I agree," Sandgrove said, and Field could just imagine that fool eagerly nodding his head. Or something.

"Agreed," Kingsley announced. "We'll put a man on Lady Louisa's house. I'm still not convinced that she was telling the truth."

Field took a swallow and sent a peek to the door.

Once again, he was struck by the same inescapable urge to hunt Theodosia down. Only this time it wasn't to demand answers, or collect fake dues, or settle baseless rumors.

This time he didn't have any false excuse.

But he did have a proper reason: ensure her safety until the very end. At the very least until the matter of the highwaymen and that other posse was settled. He'd do what he needed to do and stay at her side whether it killed him or not.

A drunk man stumbled up from a table, causing his chair to tip over and ale to spill over the person at the table next to him. Field's eyes were drawn to the spectacle—as were everyone else's.

His chance.

Field slipped from tavern.