Chapter Three

T heodosia had never been so flabbergasted and, quite frankly, so penniless in her life. And now not only was she caught off guard and pauperized, but she was also stuck and stranded with this man—her eyes flicked over him—the waistcoatless Earl of Saville. A man she despised above all.

Selena Savage! I should never have let you plant the seed of leaving London.

But she couldn't blame her friend—not really. She had willingly allowed that seedling to grow, driven by all the reasons that escaping the season was a good idea. And it would have been, had everything gone to plan.

"Let me see if I have this right. The secret women's club your sister wished to join with all her heart and soul is a suspected criminal mob, and the betting book of White's, the one we heiresses nabbed, the very book that is stowed in my carriage, the very carriage that those ruffians absconded with, is part of the evidence that is needed to bring this suspected mob crew to justice?"

"A succinct way of putting it, but yes. That is correct, yes."

"And you are only telling me this now ?" Could he not have started with this instead of lamenting over weeds and nonsense?

"Was there a better time than this? It's not like we could have hidden the book in our pockets. Also, it was not the first thing that came to mind when we met."

She curled her lip. "No, I suppose it wasn't."

"We should send for Mortimer as soon as possible."

"Send for the duke? No! We need to get that book back!" She refused to be the one responsible for such a tragic event as losing that precious evidence.

"That is why we need to send for the duke."

"And what is he going to do? Hunt the highwaymen down? The book was entrusted to me. No heiress has lost it yet, and I shall not be the first!"

"Strictly speaking, the book has already been lost."

She shook her head. "No, if we do nothing it will be lost. We can't waste time waiting for help." Then the book might well and truly never be found again.

Theodosia surveyed her surroundings, struggling to distinguish their location. The dirt path stretched on endlessly with no village in sight on the horizon. Nothing looked familiar. Not the fields surrounding them. Not the trees scattered across the landscape.

Drat. She should never have altered her route.

The sound of birds chirping overhead drew Theodosia's gaze to the sky. Darkened clouds gathered overhead.

Double drat. Their rotten luck continued.

"What exactly do you propose we do?"

"What else? We need to get the book back ourselves."

"You want us to hunt down those bandits?" Saville asked incredulously. "A lady and an earl? We are not equipped for this sort of adventure."

Theodosia cast him a bitter look. "I can't tell if you are being self-aware or self-depreciating."

"I am stating a damn fact, you vexing woman. They are outlaws. Dangerous. Armed. It would be tantamount to suicide to confront them."

"Unless we don't confront them. And now that you mention it, they weren't pointing pistols at us." She looked at him, suddenly aghast. "Dear Lord, did we just get robbed by unarmed highwaymen?"

"Unarmed or not, we were still outnumbered. And just because they weren't waving pistols at us doesn't mean they don't have them."

"Fine, you are right," Theodosia conceded. No good came from arguing with the devil. But she wouldn't have lost evidence on her conscience. "You do what you want. I shall do what I need." She started to march in the direction of the highwaymen had left, the same direction she had been heading initially, but down a lane that branched off the man road a few steps ahead.

"Where the hell are you going?"

Theodosia kept her eyes firmly fixed on the path. "Why should I respond when you already know the answer?"

A foul curse was followed by the crunch of footsteps gaining on her.

"Tell me this," he said. "What will you do when you find them? Negotiate for the book? You have nothing to negotiate with."

"I have the promise of more blunt."

"And what if they don't want more blunt? What if they want you ?"

"Must you be so dramatic?" Though, the man had a point. The Black Knight seemed like an opportunistic fellow, yes, but also a complicated one. "Who says I plan to negotiate with them?"

"If not, what?"

She arched a brow, and he read it accurately, matching her look with an expressionless one of his own.

"You plan steal it back."

"Is that not the best course of action? They stole from us, so we shall steal from them."

"We must find them first."

"Them or the carriage. The book is in a hidden compartment behind the seat. Nancy doesn't know about that, neither does she know she know about the book. All we need to do is find my carriage."

"They are probably going to pick it apart."

"Which is why we must hurry."

"Damn it, I don't know about this. What if we are caught?"

"Don't be such a pessimist, Saville. Do you want your horse back or not?"

He hesitated, just as she thought he might.

"We can escape on your horse," Theodosia went on. "As plans go, I won't deny it's a bit vague—find highwaymen, retrieve book, escape on horseback—but a plan is a plan. It is better than doing nothing at all."

"Fine," Saville grumbled. "We will try it your way. But if any danger presents itself, we abort the plan and alert the authorities. We should alert them anyway."

"You can send word to the local watchmen and the duke once we arrive at a village. Waiting for help is not an option. As you said, the highwaymen could pick apart the carriage at any time. Or sell it, and then the book might be as good as dust." Theodosia started walking again. She hadn't taken three steps before a voice boomed.

"Bloody hell! What the devil are you wearing?"

"You're only noticing my fabulous Turkish trousers now ?" Theodosia shot over her shoulder.

"Fabulous is not what I would call them, and I had other things on my mind."

"What would you call them, then?"

"A damn nuisance to society."

Well, then mission accomplished, she supposed. She didn't bother asking what else was on this mind. Since the moment he'd caught up with her today, all he'd wanted was answers to silly questions, and she wasn't about to invite more.

Foolish man.

"A nuisance for you or not, I for one am rather glad I wore them," Theodosia remarked. "They do come in handy at times like these. Dresses restrain our movement too much."

"You are not supposed to move much, are you? You should leave all the moving to us men."

Theodosia favored him with a particularly annoyed look. "Speak for yourself, not for someone else, especially if that someone else is a woman." She pointed at the field to her left. "Do you even know where we are?"

"I'm not overly familiar with these parts, but there should be a town about an hour away if I am not mistaken."

"An hour's walk or an hour on horseback?"

Another expressionless look. "Horseback."

All right then.

They would walk until their feet bled if that was what it took, or they could hail down passersby if they were lucky. However, the highwaymen were still on horseback. "Do you think the villagers know who the bandits are? Will they point us in their direction if they do?"

"Would you if you were a villager?"

Fair question. "We don't have many options."

"We can certainly probe, but don't get your hopes up. Folk in the country won't speak if they are afraid of the Black Knight's retribution. If he even is as infamous as he claims."

Theodosia bit back a smile as the last of his sentence turned into a grumble. To be fair, the bandit had been exceedingly arrogant, and she hadn't heard of him, either. But whether he was known or simply boastful, it didn't alter her determination.

"I shan't stop until I find that blasted ruffian," she declared, her face set. She didn't care about the coin. Heiress or not, money could always be earned back. But his cocky grin? She wanted to wipe it off his criminal face.

"There is a reason why these brigands are hard to catch."

"Well, they haven't been hunted by me yet."

"I have nothing to say to that. I don't want to say anything to that. I'm just going to pretend I never heard that."

"That's well and good. I enjoy walking in silence, anyway."

Theodosia didn't have to look at him to know his lip was curling up in a sneer. There was no denying this simple fact: she and Saville did not get along. They never would. But as loath as she was to admit it, she needed to get the book back and perhaps some of her belongings, if possible. And she needed his help to do it.

Because her knees were a bit wobbly. Though she might probably appear unaffected in the earl's eyes, she only pretended to be untouched. Those men and the betrayal of her servants had given her a fright. And that feeling had yet to leave her body.

She peeked at Saville. His face resembled a thundercloud, almost like the ones gathering overhead. Yet two faint lines of concern gathered between his brows, as well. One could easily mistake them for a scowl, but for this man, and having experienced all sorts of scowls from him, they were too shallow to be mistaken for that.

He'd been rattled, too.

She almost laughed out loud but was grateful she was able to stifle the urge, certain it would come out in hysterical peals. Well, weren't they two peas in a pod? Neither of them wanting to reveal just how shaken they were by the ordeal. Perhaps they were more alike than she had first thought. And even though the man was mostly infuriating, he had tried his best to protect her.

What am I to do with you, Saville?

But for the first time since she met the earl, she was glad he was by her side.

*

Three hours later

His feet hurt. His belly growled. And his annoyance stirred more with each silent second. They'd been walking for what felt like days and days. As much as Field wanted to throttle Lady Theodosia for being stubborn and insisting on traipsing after those brigands, he had gone along with her plan to steal the book back simply because, yes, they did need to get the book back.

That much they agreed on.

It was perhaps the only thing they agreed on. The method... that he didn't agree on. Let Mortimer and his watchmen hunt the highwaymen down. The duke, at least, had the determination and the people to do it. They were just a lady and an earl. He inwardly scoffed. Again. Self-awareness was a good thing. However, if there was one woman in England that might match Mortimer's determination, it was Lady Theodosia. Each step spoke to her sense of purpose, and she had known just which of his weak spots to jab.

Dream.

His horse was the true reason he had put one foot before the other for the past three hours. Nevertheless, no matter how much he went along with her plan, no matter how much he wanted the book back, too, their own safety, their lives , were the most important. The Black Knight might try to seem like an honorable criminal, but that was just a mask he wore. A criminal was a criminal.

"What if we took the wrong path?" Lady Theodosia asked as she gestured toward the ground. "I can't see the imprints of carriage wheels anymore."

Ah yes. Earlier they had come to a crossroads and followed the tracks of the carriage—the only tracks he could see—down another road that led away from the town he'd had in his mind to stop at.

But a certain lady had insisted.

And those trousers?

His eyes kept being drawn to the soft flow of the material as she walked, as though they were beckoning him with their gentle allure. A nuisance, I tell you! A nuisance! There was a reason woman ought not to wear trousers. Field supposed he was lucky that they weren't tightly fit, like the trousers the women had worn the night of the Stewart ball. That would have driven him crazy.

"Wait, I see something." She gestured to a spot off in the distance. He followed her line of sight. "See? Houses. This must be a village." Her footsteps picked up the pace. "Come, let us hurry."

Field didn't complain. He could do with a bath, a good pot of stew, and a few hours of sleep. His gaze dropped to her slippers. Her heels were dragging more than they had earlier. "You should pick up your feet."

"What do you think I'm doing?" came her mocking retort. "Would I be moving forward were I not?"

"You are dragging them too much."

"Would I even be walking if I dragged them?" she shot back. A moment later, one of her legs wobbled as she stepped into a wheel rut.

"Ah!"

Field cursed and reached to catch her around the waist. "I told you, you are dragging your feet too much. Are you all right?"

She gripped his arm. "Damn it."

He arched a brow. "Such words coming from a lady's mouth."

"And what words should come out of my mouth? You swear all the time." Her face contorted, and she patted his arm. "Let me sit. I think I hurt my ankle."

Field helped her lower down, hunkering before her, as she inspected her ankle.

"It's not swelling."

Field sighed in relief. "These slippers aren't ideal for walking the distance we've covered."

"What else should I have worn? It's not like I woke up knowing today was the day I'd be held up by highwaymen and then walk hours on end so I'd better put on boots."

Field almost rolled his eyes heavenward. For a moment, he had forgotten what a viper she could be when she opened her mouth. Why was he even worried about the woman? Don't react. She's hurt. "The village off yonder isn't far. I'll carry you."

"I'd rather perish."

His temper sparked. "You think I wouldn't also rather perish than carry a minx like you?"

"Then why offer in the first place?" she snapped.

"I was just trying to do what any gentleman would do for a damsel." Christ. He was forever trying to do what was right and forever getting it wrong.

"I am not a damsel."

"Says the damsel damseling on the ground."

"You are so infuriating." She scrambled to her feet, a slight flinch the only evidence she might still feel any pain. Field slowly rose with her, ready to act should she stumble on something. But he needn't have worried. Stubbornness could heal even the sorest of ankles, it seemed.

They continued to the village, and he also very stubbornly, if a bit reluctantly, ignored the limp in her gait. What should he care? She'd rather die than be carried by him anyway. And he'd rather... damn woman. Making him say things he didn't mean.

One step. Two steps. Three steps.

One limp. Two limps. Three limps.

Field cursed.

He couldn't take it anymore. He stepped into her path without looking at her and lowered to his haunches before her. "Get on."

"What are you doing?"

"Get on my back. I'll carry you."

"Didn't I say that I—"

"Yes, yes, you'd rather perish than be carried by me." He glanced over his shoulder with a challenge in his eyes. "But I'd not be carrying you. You'd be clinging to my back. There is a difference."

"And you think those words will change my mind?"

He rested one hand on the ground for balance, half turning to her. "Would you rather die than cling to my back as well?"

"Are you purposely trying to provoke me?"

"Yes," he snapped back. "But also, I've changed my mind. I'd much rather perish than watch you limp a moment longer. By the time you hobble into the village, darkness will have already descended."

"Then it seems we are at an impasse. You would rather die than see me limp and I'd rather die than touch you in any sort of way."

"Is that so? And what about your ankle? Do you have no care for your poor limb? It needs rest or it will swell."

"It shall survive, as shall I."

"I daresay it will. But what if it hinders your great, vague plan of stealing back the book? What if your ankle is the reason we can't execute that plan and lose Mortimer's evidence to bring a band of criminals to justice? Would you rather perish than risk all of that? Just because you'd rather die than accept help?"

She glared at him. "I've never met a man more infuriating and animated in his responses than you."

"Are you getting on or not?" Field asked. His legs were starting to burn. "You can let me carry you or limp your way to the village, but if you choose the latter and anything goes wrong, don't you dare cast the blame at me."

Field glimpsed the struggle within her.

A muscle ticked in her jaw. A sight rarely beheld in a lady. But then, Lady Theodosia had never been an ordinary one. The way she looked now, the trousers, the shirt, the jacket, the long cascading hair, she could easily be mistaken for many things other than a lady. Only the poise of her shoulders, that haughty lift of her chin, and the firmness in her gaze spoke of a goddess born into the upper ranks of society.

And just why did it feel as though he was holding his breath? He purposefully exhaled a puff of air. Yet for some reason, her choice—would she agree or not?—seemed to carry the destiny of the world in the balance.

What in the blazes are you thinking now, Field?

"Fine," she stepped up to him, albeit a bit grudgingly. "I might still die, but I shall take the chance. For the sake of my ankle and for the sake of our plan."

Field gave a curt nod, slowly letting out his breath. "For the sake of your ankle and the plan," he agreed.

Her hands circled his neck as she climbed onto his back, and he hooked his arms around her legs, rising to his feet. Ah, Christ, his feet. They pricked and burned from being hunkered down for so long.

No matter, they'd arrive at the village soon.

"You were right," Field said as started toward the village again. "These trousers are good for something." A dress would not have worked, and he was sure she would have allowed him to carry her no other way.

"See, I told you," her voice came at his ear. Ripples, shivers, and all sorts of chills swept down to his toes.

Field held back a grunt, trying not to focus on the soft body on his back. The scent of sweet flowers cloaked him.

"I am not too heavy, am I?"

"Light as a feather."

"Liar."

He chuckled. She wasn't heavy and she wasn't light as a feather, but he knew better than to make a comment on a woman's weight.

By the time they reached the village, sweat beaded his brow, steady drops trickling down his jawline with each step. However, every drop carried with it the satisfaction of a hero saving a damsel in need.

"You can put me down now," her soft voice tickled into his ear. "Before you collapse with me on your back."

Field slowly lowered her to her feet. "How is it?"

"Much better, thank you." She stretched out her limbs, testing her ankle as she surveyed the landscape. "Why is this town so... empty? There is not a soul outside. Are they all inside?"

Field agreed that something did seem odd here. He studied the decrepit buildings as they ventured down the main street. Not one building had a window. They weren't even stone houses, but wooden structures that spoke of a life that had already passed on to the next. "There is no one here."

"How can that be?"

"This place is deserted, and by the looks of it, it has been for a long time."

They had just stumbled upon an abandoned village.