Free Through the Smoke by Brenda Novak Page A

Neither,” he said, answering his own questions. “Who among such would have business on this road after dark? Merchants are sleeping, dreaming of how to line their pockets with the earl’s gold come morning. And servants are too exhausted by bedtime to venture out.”
    Rachel held her breath as whomever it was dismounted and began to search in earnest, not ten steps away.
    “Come now!” he barked out. “Answer me the riddle of your identity. I hope you are a woman, for I have no respect for a man who cowers in the woods.”
    His overloud voice, combined with his uncoordinated movements, caused Gilly to start. Braying loudly, the donkey jerked so hard on his rope that he nearly dragged Rachel into the road. She stumbled before she managed to halt the ass, and that was enough to give her away. Footsteps crunched through the snow with greater purpose and a hand grabbed her arm, pulling her out of her hiding place.
    Without the cover of her cloak, the yellow glow of Rachel’s lantern burst upon them, illuminating the stranger’s lean face and dark eyes, which peered at her beneath a shock of hair as black as ink.
    “You are—you are the earl’s cousin,” she stammered, recognizing Wythe despite his overall dishevelment. An inch or two shorter than Druridge, he possessed the same dark hair. But his eyes were more brown than gold, andhis features, though well sculpted, seemed to lack a certain congruity, throwing his good looks slightly off-balance.
    He released her but stayed close enough that he could grab her again if he had a mind to. “Wythe Stanhope, at your service. And you are Miss Rachel McTavish, if I am not mistaken. I remember you, too, from Elspeth’s.”
    Rachel winced at his allusion to Elspeth Soward’s. A decent girl never went near a brothel, but Madame Soward had become a friend, of sorts, and Rachel had never been one to worry overmuch about appearances—a rebellious trait her mother had said she’d live to regret. She had a feeling that prophecy was about to be fulfilled. She had seen Wythe Stanhope about the streets of Creswell or at the colliery many times, and most recently at her mother’s funeral, yet he mentioned Elspeth’s. Was he trying to belittle her?
    “Elspeth has determined to read, and I tutor her,” she said by way of explanation. “We usually do it at my shop but, on occasion, she has bid me come to her… er… place of business.”
    “Of course. Every whore should learn to read. As for myself, I was there to learn how to use a thimble and needle.”
    Annoyed by his sarcasm, Rachel stepped away. “Are you insinuating that I am lying, sir?”
    “I am not insinuating anything. Rather, I am making it
clear
that I do not believe you.” He lifted a hand before she could protest. “But I don’t care what you tell my cousin of your time at Elspeth’s. Make him believe that there have been no others before him, if you like, and charge him a virgin’s rates. He deserves to be duped for taking my suggestion after nearly breaking my jaw for making it.”
    “
What
?” Rachel shook her head. “You are drunk, sir.” She could smell him from where she stood, even though he was now more than an arm’s length away, and he was making no sense. “Believe what you will about Elspeth’s. I know my dealings with her are innocent enough.”
    After stooping to retrieve her lantern, she tried to lead Gilly onto the road, but the stubborn animal merely threw its head, almost yanking her arm out of its socket in the process.
    “Come on, Gilly. Let us be about our errand. Blackmoor Hall isn’t far, but it’s getting late.” Rachel gave the rope another tug—all to no avail. Gillycontinued to nibble at the patch of dead grass he had uncovered at the foot of a tree.
    “It
is
getting late,” Wythe agreed. “And you wouldn’t want to keep the mighty earl waiting. I will even escort you, since he did not deem you worthy enough to send his carriage.” The earl’s cousin stood next