Wondering if Robin was having some kind of breathing attack, she rose and crossed to kneel by his side. His face was a pale blur in the starlight, and his breath came in shallow gasps, the bracken rustling as he shifted restlessly.
She laid a hand on his shoulder. "Robin?"
His muscles spasmed under her fingers. The choking sounds stopped and his eyes opened, though it was too dark to see any expression. He said huskily, "I was having a nightmare?"
"I think so. Do you remember what it was?"
"Not really. Could have been any of a number of things." He drew in a ragged breath. "The price of an uneasy conscience."
"Do you have nightmares often?"
"Regularly, if not precisely often." He rubbed his hand over his face. "Sorry I disturbed your rest."
She was about to say more when she saw a faint glimmer of moisture on his cheeks. No wonder he was trying so hard to be nonchalant. She laid her hand on his, where it rested near her knee. "No great matter. I'm a light sleeper." His fingers were cold, and she did not think that was because of the chilly night air. "Better to be woken by you than by a hungry wolf."
"Around here, sheep are far more common than wolves." He squeezed her hand briefly. "Not that I don't have faith in your ability to protect my ineffectual self from the perils of the wild."
"If any wolves attack, I'm sure that you can talk them to death," she said lightly. "Good night."
She returned to her pallet to take advantage of what remained of the night. Yet sleep eluded her, even though Robin's breathing was soon quiet and regular.
The Iroquois took dreams seriously, regarding them as wishes of the soul that must be satisfied. Maxie's mother had gone further, saying that nightmares were injuries of the soul that must be healed.
As she drifted back to sleep, Maxie wondered what haunted Robin's nights.
* * *
If Desdemona Ross had known how difficult it would be to find a runaway, she would have left the task to the fellow her brother was going to hire. Having begun, however, she was not about to admit that she wasn't equal to the challenge.
The search had seemed a simple exercise in logic. Knowing her niece's background, Desdemona had calculated how much distance a vigorous walker could travel in the time Maxima had been gone. Then she had targeted the three most likely routes and started making inquiries at taverns and posting houses along the way. She asked for a boy, sure that her niece had too much sense to travel in female garb.
Her inquiries produced either too many sightings of young boys or none at all, but never anything useful. After three days of futile searching, Desdemona was thoroughly sick of the business. Only her considerable stubbornness kept her going.
She was all the way to Yorkshire when her luck changed at an inn named the King Richard. It was midday, and a scattering of locals nursed their ale in the taproom when Desdemona entered. She marched over to the woman behind the bar. "Excuse me, madam, I am looking for my young nephew. The lad has run away from school, and it's possible that he came this way."
"Aye?" the landlady said with profound disinterest.
"About this tall," Desdemona gestured with her hand, "dark coloring, but probably wearing a hat to hide his face. Dressed so that he wouldn't be easily noticed."
"There was a lad like that in here t'other day." The answer came not from the landlady, but a toothless beldam in a group across the room. The old woman clambered to her feet and made her way to Desdemona. "But he's found hisself a friend."
"Oh?" Desdemona asked in an encouraging tone.
Another woman joined them, a sturdy female smoking a clay pipe. "Aye, if 'twas your nephew, he's all right. Lord Robert Andreville was with him. Happen you might know his lordship, all the Quality being related-like. Lord Robert must've recognized the lad and taken him home to send him back to you."
The beldam disagreed. "Gent said he wasn't Lord Robert."
"Nothing wrong with my eyes, Granny. That was Lord Robert, no matter what he said," the pipe smoker insisted. "I saw him in York right before Christmas. That yaller head couldn't've belonged to anyone else."
Before the beldam could disagree again, Desdemona asked, "What happened?"
"The lad and his lordship had a bite of dinner here," the landlady contributed, showing more interest in the debate. "Sat in that corner, which is why no one recognized Lord Robert. After they ate, the lad slipped out the back."
"Aye, tried to run away again," the pipe smoker said. "That's why I think it must be the lad you want. His lordship caught up with him outside, then made your nevvy go with him."
Desdemona frowned. "You mean he forced the boy?"
The other woman nodded. "Took the lad by the arm and marched him out of town. Must have had a carriage waiting. Shouldn't think a lord'd walk very far."
Desdemona had heard of the Andrevilles, of course, and knew that their principal seat was nearby. But none of that family should know Maxima, who had only been in England for a few months. At least, no one should have recognized the girl as a runaway of good family. "Tell me about this Lord Robert."
An enthusiastic chorus explained that Lord Robert was the younger brother of the Marquess of Wolverton, that he had done dire and dangerous things during the wars, that he was as handsome as a fallen angel and a devil with the ladies. The zeal with which the villagers described his exploits showed how proud they were of their neighborhood black sheep.
If even half the tales were true, the portrait that emerged was alarming. Lord and Lady Collingwood had said that Maxima was strikingly attractive, exactly the sort to draw unwelcome attentions from a rake. It seemed likely that the dissolute Lord Robert had seen through the girl's disguise and forced her to accompany him for no good purpose.
Face grim, Desdemona asked, "How do I get to Wolverhampton?" After receiving directions, she dipped into her reticule and laid a gold guinea on the bar. "Thank you for your help, ladies. This afternoon's ale is on me."
Desdemona stalked outside to her waiting coach, ignoring the toasts to her continued good health. She was too busy planning what she would do to a depraved aristocrat who would ruin an innocent young girl.
Chapter 5
The Marquess of Wolverton had set the afternoon aside to answer his correspondence. His secretary, Charles, would read a letter, Giles would dictate a reply, and they would move on to the next. All perfectly, boringly normal.
Normality was shattered, however, when an angry Amazon burst into the library. "I don't care how busy Lord Wolverton is," she barked as she stalked in. "He will see me now!"
Floundering behind her came a red-faced footman. "I'm sorry, your lordship, Lady Ross insisted on seeing you," he said apologetically. "She's here about Lord Robert."
Giles looked up quickly. Robin had vanished three days earlier. Though he had said not to worry if he wandered off someday, it was proving difficult not to feel concern.
He blinked at the newcomer. Lady Ross was sweeping toward him like a ship in full sail, her full cloak and bonnet billowing around her and a parasol gripped like a weapon in one hand. Tall and Junoesque, she might have been handsome in a happier mood, but her present fury was not a sight for the faint of heart.
Wondering what on earth she had to do with Robin, Giles rose politely. "I am Wolverton. You have news of my brother?"
Lady Ross scowled. "So you don't know where he is, either."
"He has been away for several days. I am unsure when he will be returning," Giles said, trying to remember what he had heard about Lady Ross. Though her name was familiar, he couldn't recall the context. "What business do you have with him?"
"The question is not my business with him, but what he has done with my niece." Her ladyship glowered at the marquess. "The evidence suggests that your brother has abducted her."
"The devil you say!" Giles's jaw hardened. "Who is spreading such preposterous slander?"
The tip of her parasol quivered like the tail of an angry cat. "Some of your tenants saw Lord Robe
rt forcing a young person to come away with him. From the description, it was my niece, Maxima Collins, an American girl."
The marquess fixed his visitor with a steely gaze. "How and when did the girl come to be abducted? I cannot believe that my brother kidnapped an innocent young girl away from her family."
Lady Ross's eyes shifted uneasily. "I'm not sure exactly what happened. Maxima has been living with my brother, Lord Collingwood. Her father died soon after they arrived in England, and the girl was distraught. About a week ago she impulsively left Collingwood's house, leaving a note that she was on her way to me in London. In fact, I was coming to visit her in Durham. I have been looking for her since we realized that she had disappeared." Her gray eyes narrowed. "It was three days ago that the villagers saw Lord Robert with his unwilling companion."
Giles kept his expression blank, but inwardly he groaned. Robin would not abduct an innocent, but might he have taken off on a lark with a young and willing runaway? That would depend on how young and how willing she was. "How old is your niece?"
Lady Ross hesitated before admitting, "Twenty-five."
"Twenty-five! The way you were carrying on, I assumed she was fifteen or sixteen. Your niece is hardly a green girl—at her age, most females are wives and mothers. If she went with my brother, it must have been voluntarily."
"Maxima has only been in England for four months, and she was orphaned almost immediately," Lady Ross said with a glower. "She is an innocent, alone in a foreign country. A man who would take advantage of that is beneath contempt."
Giles took a firm grip on his temper. "We have not established what, if anything, has happened."
"If Lord Robert hasn't run off with her, then where is he?" she demanded. "From what you said when I arrived, you don't know where he is. According to the villagers, he has the reputation of a rake. Exactly the sort of man to kidnap a young girl."
"That's utter nonsense!" Giles retorted. "Robin has been out of England for years. In the six months since his return, he has been living here quietly, not cutting a swath through English womanhood."
"Your tenants didn't seem to think so."
"People enjoy spinning lurid tales about the local gentry. I don't provide them with much fodder for gossip, but Lord Robert is an attractive and romantic figure. If he so much as smiles at a local girl, I'm sure the tenants fancy him an incurable womanizer." Giles considered a moment. "Even if my brother had a female companion, are you sure she was your niece? As a runaway, she could be almost anywhere."
"I am sure that Maxima must be in this area, and the description the villagers gave sounded exactly like her," Lady Ross said, refusing to give way. "I fear the worst."
The marquess took a deep breath. "You have provided no proof that Robin has behaved badly, or even that he and your niece are acquainted. While I will make allowances for your concern, I advise you not to make baseless charges against my brother. Good day, Lady Ross. My footman will show you out." He sat down again and made a show of studying his correspondence.
His visitor should have accepted her dismissal and left. Instead, the footman yelped with dismay and the marquess caught a glimpse of swift movement from the corner of his eye. He raised his head just in time to see Lady Ross's parasol slicing through the air. Before he could move, it smashed down on the desk in front of him, missing his face by inches and scattering papers across the carpet.
As he gaped in stunned disbelief, she snapped, "Don't think you can dismiss me like one of your servants, Wolverton! I know your reputation. Instead of attending Parliament, you sit out here in Yorkshire like a toad, ignoring your responsibilities. With you as an example, it's hardly surprising that your brother became a wastrel!" Her full lips curled into a sneer. "Though perhaps it's just as well that you don't take advantage of your seat in the House of Lords. No doubt your views would make Attila the Hun look compassionate."
Giles had never been rude to a female in his life, but a few minutes with Lady Ross had changed that. He leaped to his feet and leaned toward her, bracing his fists on the desk. "I attend the Lords whenever a vital issue is being debated, but most of my responsibilities are here. There is no better fertilizer for the land than the weight of the owner's foot, and managing my property is a better use of my time than playing faro and assassinating reputations in London!"
Realizing belatedly how immature his behavior was, he said in a more moderate tone, "Not that it's any of your business."
The parasol jerked, and for an instant he thought she was going to swing it like a cricket bat.
Instead, she said through gritted teeth, "I'm sorry. Your properties are known as models of progressive land management. I should not have spoken so." Looking as if the apology had half killed her, she went on, "No doubt your brother developed his beastly vices without any help from you."
Unmollified, Giles said, "I suggest that you leave before your unfounded charges make me forget that I am a gentleman. I'm sorry your niece is missing, but I can do nothing to help you."
"I was a fool to expect any cooperation," Lady Ross said with disgust. "Men of our order will ruin a girl as casually as they will discard a cravat. I came here hoping that Lord Robert had found my niece in need of protection and behaved as a gentleman by restoring her to her family. Instead he has taken her away against her will, and you are covering for his crime. However, Maxima is not without family, and I swear that if Lord Robert has injured her or her reputation, he will pay for it."
Appalled realization dawned on the marquess. "So that is what this is about! Your niece set out to seduce Lord Robert. Then you came here crying that she is an injured innocent and justice must be done, hoping that I will force my brother to marry her. Well, it won't work, madam, not on my brother and not on me. If he went off with her, it was because she was willing."
He leaned forward, his broad shoulders taut with anger. "Mark me well, Lady Ross. I personally guarantee that my brother will never marry a round-heeled wench who is trying to entrap him."
If Lady Ross's parasol had been a sword, there would have been murder done. Gray eyes flashing, she said furiously, "Believe me, I have no intention of forcing the girl into marriage with a degenerate wastrel, and I will stand up to the head of my family or anyone else who might try to coerce her. What I do intend is to see your brother in Newgate. Remember, Wolverton, kidnapping is a capital offense. Don't think you can buy his freedom with your influence. I am not without influence of my own. If a crime has been committed, I intend to see Lord Robert prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law."
She spun on her heel and marched toward the door, her parasol clenched in her fist like a club. "If your benighted brother returns here, you would be wise to advise him to leave England, instantly and forever."
As Lady Ross reached the door, the marquess belatedly remembered who she was: a bluestocking reformer who had the ear of some of the most prominent politicians of both parties. Giles had heard of her for years and vaguely assumed that she was much older. Instead, the celebrated firebrand reformer was several years younger than himself, probably not much past thirty.
Bloody hell, she might indeed have the influence to cause the Andreville family considerable grief even if Robin had done nothing illegal. After swearing under his breath, Giles said, "Lady Ross, please hold a moment."
She turned and said ominously, "Yes?"
Giles crossed the room to his visitor, saying in his most conciliatory tone, "We should not have let our tempers run away with us. Naturally you are concerned for your niece, but truly, I think you are making a mistake. What matters is locating the girl, and I doubt you will find her with my brother. While there are certainly men whose behavior toward females is unconscionable, Robin is not one of them."
Her auburn brows arched. "Are you absolutely sure of that?"
Giles started to say that he was, but hesitated. "How much in life can one be absolutely sure of?"
"That is not a convincing endorsement for Lord Robert's honor," she sai
d dryly.
"I have no doubts at all about my brother's honor." Incurably honest, Giles found himself adding, "However, some of his actions might be unconventional."
Her lip curled. "The more you speak of his honor, the more I want to count my spoons."
"I would trust him as I trust myself."
For a moment Lady Ross's face softened and Giles thought he might be persuading her. Then the stubborn set came back to her jaw. "You have the reputation of a just man, and your loyalty to your brother is commendable. Unfortunately, men can be honorable with each other, yet think nothing of mistreating women. If Lord Robert has been away from England for so many years, do you really know what he is capable of?"
The blasted woman was right. Emotionally Giles believed in his brother, yet he was uneasily aware that Robin could not have survived a dozen years of spying in the heart of Napoleon's empire without a capacity for ruthlessness. "Robin has been shaped by forces different than the English beau monde, but I am sure he would never injure an innocent."
Lady Ross shrugged and turned away. "We shall see. I will not stop searching until I find my niece. And if your brother has harmed her, may God help him."
Then she was gone. Giles stared at the closed door for a long moment, feeling as if the church steeple had fallen on him. No one had ever made him so angry in his life, but even so, he was not proud of the way he had spoken to Lady Ross.
He turned back to the room, shaking his head. To his secretary, who had been watching in horrified fascination, he said, "What did you think of all that, Charles?"
The other man hesitated, then said tactfully, "I think that I would not like to have Lady Ross angry with me."
"And that if Robin is dallying with the lady's niece, he may find himself up to his chin in boiling water?"
Charles smiled ruefully. "I'm afraid so, my lord."
The marquess settled deep in his leather-upholstered chair and considered. Preposterous though the idea seemed, the missing Maxima must be traveling to London by foot. Otherwise, Lady Ross wouldn't be so sure that her niece was in southern Yorkshire a week after leaving Durham.