for thinking, will you? And remember what I said. Return to Wales and you’re dead men. I’ll see to it myself.”
With that, he was gone, leaving them in total darkness once more.
“You know he’s lying,” Rhys said.
“Did Lettice tell Juliana who printed those pamphlets?”
“Yes.”
“So she did know.” Morgan cursed under his breath. “I told Lettice not to tell her. She swore she’d not say a word to anyone.”
An acrid taste filled Rhys’s mouth. “You know women. They can’t keep secrets.”
Morgan’s breathing grew heavy. “Yes, but to tell Blackwood? If he didn’t find out from either of them, then from whom?”
“A spy in our midst, perhaps? One of our compatriots?”
“Our compatriots didn’t know who printed them. You even told them it was a London printer.”
“Perhaps someone overheard us discussing it.” Rhys stared blankly into the darkness, praying that was the answer.
But even if Blackwood had found out about the pamphlets through spies, that didn’t explain how he’d known where to find Rhys tonight.
Rhys could explain how Blackwood knew about the Sons of Wales, and even why Juliana hadn’t told him about Llynwydd. Perhaps she hadn’t known it belonged to her. Perhaps Blackwood was simply lying about that.
But Rhys couldn’t explain how Blackwood had known where to find him. That was the one piece of damning evidence that ate at him. And he couldn’t forget how nervous she’d been when they reached the inn.
“At the moment, it hardly matters whether the women betrayed us,” Morgan said. “I don’t think we’re likely to get out of this. I have no weapon.” His tone hardened. “I was out courting.”
Rhys thought of all he’d heard about the navy, which was forced to resort to impressment because conditions were so bad on a British man-of-war that men died and deserted at alarming rates. Rhys had heard of the wretchedfood that bred disease, of the floggings ordered by tyrannical captains. Some prisoners, when given the choice of the navy or death, chose death. Juliana couldn’t have wished such a nightmare on him.
“What do we do now?” Morgan asked.
Rhys clenched his fists, the stone floor scraping his knuckles. “We survive. And one day we return. Because no matter what that son of a bitch Blackwood says, we will avenge this.”
7
I gaze across the distant hills,
Thy coming to espy;
Beloved, haste, the day grows late,
The sun sinks down the sky.
—WILLIAM WILLIAMS PANTYCELYN, “I GAZE ACROSS THE DISTANT HILLS”
N ervous and tense, Overton rode beside his brother back to the inn. When they’d found Juliana sleeping upstairs hours ago, they’d decided to leave her there while they dealt with her husband. But now the sun had risen well above the horizon, because Darcy had insisted on waiting at the tavern until the ship pulled out of port.
It worried Overton. The whole scheme did. “I hope you know what you’re doing. The press gang didn’t like taking a squire, even after you gave them all that money and said Vaughan was a radical.”
“I don’t care. The blackguard carried off our sister for his own devious purposes. Don’t you understand? They consummated the marriage! That deuced bastard would have been our brother-in-law if we hadn’t acted. And onceJuliana realized he desired her only for her property, she’d have been miserable. Is that what you wanted?”
No. But this whole business didn’t seem right, especially with Vaughan being an Oxford man and a gentleman. “Perhaps he truly cares for her.”
Darcy snorted. “The daughter of the man who stole his estate? I doubt it.” They rode into the inn yard. “Besides, Juliana deserves better. Trust me, if we’d let it go on, a week from now she’d have been regretting the marriage and asking us for help.”
Overton remained silent as they dismounted. This just all made him bloody uneasy.
As they approached the inn, Overton caught Darcy’s arm. “I heard those cruel
With that, he was gone, leaving them in total darkness once more.
“You know he’s lying,” Rhys said.
“Did Lettice tell Juliana who printed those pamphlets?”
“Yes.”
“So she did know.” Morgan cursed under his breath. “I told Lettice not to tell her. She swore she’d not say a word to anyone.”
An acrid taste filled Rhys’s mouth. “You know women. They can’t keep secrets.”
Morgan’s breathing grew heavy. “Yes, but to tell Blackwood? If he didn’t find out from either of them, then from whom?”
“A spy in our midst, perhaps? One of our compatriots?”
“Our compatriots didn’t know who printed them. You even told them it was a London printer.”
“Perhaps someone overheard us discussing it.” Rhys stared blankly into the darkness, praying that was the answer.
But even if Blackwood had found out about the pamphlets through spies, that didn’t explain how he’d known where to find Rhys tonight.
Rhys could explain how Blackwood knew about the Sons of Wales, and even why Juliana hadn’t told him about Llynwydd. Perhaps she hadn’t known it belonged to her. Perhaps Blackwood was simply lying about that.
But Rhys couldn’t explain how Blackwood had known where to find him. That was the one piece of damning evidence that ate at him. And he couldn’t forget how nervous she’d been when they reached the inn.
“At the moment, it hardly matters whether the women betrayed us,” Morgan said. “I don’t think we’re likely to get out of this. I have no weapon.” His tone hardened. “I was out courting.”
Rhys thought of all he’d heard about the navy, which was forced to resort to impressment because conditions were so bad on a British man-of-war that men died and deserted at alarming rates. Rhys had heard of the wretchedfood that bred disease, of the floggings ordered by tyrannical captains. Some prisoners, when given the choice of the navy or death, chose death. Juliana couldn’t have wished such a nightmare on him.
“What do we do now?” Morgan asked.
Rhys clenched his fists, the stone floor scraping his knuckles. “We survive. And one day we return. Because no matter what that son of a bitch Blackwood says, we will avenge this.”
7
I gaze across the distant hills,
Thy coming to espy;
Beloved, haste, the day grows late,
The sun sinks down the sky.
—WILLIAM WILLIAMS PANTYCELYN, “I GAZE ACROSS THE DISTANT HILLS”
N ervous and tense, Overton rode beside his brother back to the inn. When they’d found Juliana sleeping upstairs hours ago, they’d decided to leave her there while they dealt with her husband. But now the sun had risen well above the horizon, because Darcy had insisted on waiting at the tavern until the ship pulled out of port.
It worried Overton. The whole scheme did. “I hope you know what you’re doing. The press gang didn’t like taking a squire, even after you gave them all that money and said Vaughan was a radical.”
“I don’t care. The blackguard carried off our sister for his own devious purposes. Don’t you understand? They consummated the marriage! That deuced bastard would have been our brother-in-law if we hadn’t acted. And onceJuliana realized he desired her only for her property, she’d have been miserable. Is that what you wanted?”
No. But this whole business didn’t seem right, especially with Vaughan being an Oxford man and a gentleman. “Perhaps he truly cares for her.”
Darcy snorted. “The daughter of the man who stole his estate? I doubt it.” They rode into the inn yard. “Besides, Juliana deserves better. Trust me, if we’d let it go on, a week from now she’d have been regretting the marriage and asking us for help.”
Overton remained silent as they dismounted. This just all made him bloody uneasy.
As they approached the inn, Overton caught Darcy’s arm. “I heard those cruel
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