“Brave enough to court her, are you, guv?”
“I’m not remotely worthy of her. Nobody is.” With that, Will overtook Angelika’s horse and they trotted together for some time without speaking. “We are returning home,” he said to her shortly. “I’ve had enough for one night. Do not even think about going to the tavern.”
“Who are you to tell me what to do?” Still, she turned her horse to follow his. “Tell me more about your identical twin brother. Is he unmarried? Could I persuade him to kiss me, or would that be a total waste of an evening?”
“Ha,” Will replied with no humor. “You like having a ready replacement.”
“It hurts you to know you were not the first man I made,” she told him as she pushed Percy to a canter. “Lie in bed and think about why that is.”
“I lie in bed and think about you, wearing silk.” His words echoed across the fields, but there were only foxes and owls to overhear him. Their horses, headed toward home, began to pull and increase their pace. Both riders loosened their reins at the same time, and now they were racing.
Whyever not? Angelika thought as they pounded up the laneway. The horses want to run so badly, what’s the point in holding them back? It’s in their nature. And it was exhilarating, taking the inside position on corners, letting her smaller, nimble mount gain strides in those sharp, dangerous moments. She was furious with Will. He’d kissed her mouth as though he’d done so a thousand times before, an unthinking, instinctive thing; and she wasn’t even sure if he realized he’d done it. Her world had changed; his had not.
He was so measured, even in this dangerous race, it drove her mad. It was in the straights that Will’s horse made significant ground. As they were galloping up the wide carriage drive to the manor, he overtook her, and Angelika saw torchlight in the bushes on the library side of the manor.
“Will,” she called, reining her horse in. Everything was forgotten now. “There’s someone at the house.”
Chapter Seven
He slowed and circled, halting beside her, the horses blowing and snorting.
“Is it Mary?”
“She wouldn’t use a fire torch. Looks like the thieves from the village have noticed our absence.” Angelika unbuckled her saddlebag. When she produced her pepperbox pistol, the look Will gave her was a mix of horror and utter admiration of her self-sufficiency.
“What are you going to do?”
“We are looking after the house, as Victor charged us to do. Who knows, maybe my husband has delivered himself to me. I have six shots,” she added, holding up the expensive weapon, engraved with A.F., naturally.
“Shoot once into the air, to scare them. Angelika. Look at me. Promise you will not be rash.”
“I promise. We’ll ride behind the house, keep to the grass to stay quiet.”
The drawing room window was open, with a young man standing beneath it, holding his arms up for a bag that was being passed down.
“Oh, hello!” Angelika called out in a friendly voice, raising her arm. “You’re stealing from me, are you?” She shot into the sky and rode out Percy’s sideways spin. When she was facing the house again, there was only the abandoned bag beneath the window.
A window opened on the upper floor.
Mary’s face peered down at them. “Thank heavens you’re here, Master Will,” she said, completely ignoring the gun-toting Angelika. “There’s still one downstairs. I’m locked in my room. Come on, hurry up, get ’em out. I’ve got to heat your bathwater.” The window closed.
Will forcibly took the firearm from Angelika. “No more shots.”
Angelika found it deeply vexing that Mary had not considered her a savior. Abruptly, she was sick of everybody. “You can go and be the man of the house, like Victor wanted.” She scowled up at Mary’s window. “But please know this. I am not a helpless maiden.”
They dismounted and put up their stirrups. Will handed her his reins. “I could never think that. Stay outside, until I tell you it is safe.”
Angelika unsaddled the horses and turned them out in the orchard as an apology for not rubbing them down. They bolted off, bucking and skittish. She sat down on the low stone wall, with their warm leather bridles hung on her arm.
She did not feel particularly concerned for Will. He had her gun, and the thieves looked to be barely in their teens. Indeed, if she sharpened her senses, she could practically hear the calm negotiations that would be happening inside.