Free Practice to Deceive by Patricia Veryan Page B

girl, will you give me your solemn vow not to scream if the gentleman lets you go?”
    Daffy nodded. The Corporal released her gingerly. At once she rounded on him and boxed his ear. “Very free you are with your hands, sir!” she said, her fear apparently evaporating the instant she was freed. “Scrag me, will you?”
    Gordon, who had crossed to uncover his brother, muttered a distressed, “He’s gone off again, poor fellow.”
    Slanting a worried glance at Quentin, Penelope said, “Daffy—I’m so sorry you have seen, for I’d no thought you should be involved, but—please say you will not betray us.”
    â€œOf course I won’t, Miss Penny. And mighty shocked I am that ye’d need to ask such a question. If you’re involved, then I am likewise. Only tell me how I may help the poor gentleman. A Jacobite, is he?”
    Lips tight, Gordon exchanged a troubled look with the Corporal.
    â€œAnother female party to our secret,” muttered Killiam, fingering his abused ear resentfully. “Maybe we’d best take the Major with us, after all.”
    â€œIn the Lord Mayor’s coach, with a troop of cavalry riding escort,” said Daffy, throwing a look of scorn his way. “Aye. Ye might as well, for he’d be just as dead at the finish.” She crossed to the bed and touched the unconscious man’s cheek. “So hot as any fire he do be. I’ll not be surprised does the poor soul wake up out of his senses altogether.”
    Penelope went over to feel Quentin’s brow. His head tossed as she touched him and Daffy was right; the skin burned with fever. She turned to meet Gordon’s eyes. “That settles the matter, then. He cannot be moved in such a state.”
    Torn by indecision, he argued, “And what if we leave him here and he starts to rave in delirium?”
    â€œWe will gag him,” she said calmly. “And we waste time, sir. One of the first places my uncle will search is Nurse’s cottage. If your horses are stabled there—”
    â€œThey are not, never fear. We found a small depression under the riverbank, not too far from the bridge.”
    â€œBadger’s Hall?” Her astonished gaze fixed on his face, Penelope barely breathed the words. “I’ve not so much as thought of it these three years. My brother and I used to play there. How on earth did you—”
    â€œOf course I shall find it,” muttered Quentin, looking up at them with unseeing, fretful eyes. “D’ye take me for a gudgeon? Won’t take me no more time … no more than…” Sighing, he closed his eyes again and the words trailed into an unintelligible muddle.
    The four gathered around the bed looked at one another sombrely, the quiet broken only by occasional gusts of wind that crept through the cracks to dance with the candle flames, and sent rain driving at the windowpanes.
    *   *   *
    Penelope closed the bedroom door without a sound. “You were not seen?” she asked, her eyes flashing anxiously from one face to the other.
    â€œLawks, no, miss,” answered Daffy. “The gentleman shinned down the tree so easy as winking, and is safely clear of the house. Did the poor Major waken again, Miss Penny?”
    â€œNo. Nor stirred when I pulled off his boots, poor soul. He is covered with cuts and bruises. He will rest much easier when we have his clothes off and bathe him.”
    Corporal Killiam looked shocked. “Cannot do that, miss! Any minute your kinfolk might find us, so we’ve to run for it, and the Major can’t go flitting about the countryside in a nightshirt. He must stay clad.”
    â€œWe shall find him clothes tomorrow, but first, we must decide on a secure hiding place.” Penelope said slowly, “I’ve thought and thought, and the only place that seems logical—”
    â€œIs the attic, eh, miss?” Daffy