The Hired Hero by Andrea Pickens Page B

on to other entertainment. As to the girl’s reputation, it was hardly of consequence. She would not live long enough for it to matter.
    The gentleman rapped softly on the trap and spoke briefly with his coachman. The fellow nodded, then pulled the scarf at his neck up to his ears and stepped down to make a show of tending to the pair of matched bays.
    Davenport and Caroline took their horses from the stableboy, who gave a whoop of delight at the coin tossed to him by the earl. They mounted and rode out with hardly a glance at the carriage pulled off to the far side of the yard. With only a slight hesitation, Davenport passed by a rutted cart path and continued on to the main road.
    They rode in silence, letting the horses have their head, but the air of tension had eased, even though barely a handful of words had been exchanged since the night before. When the earl reined his stallion to an easy trot, Caroline fell in beside him, content with the steady beat of the hooves as the only sound between them.
    After a while, she ventured a question. “Where does this road lead?”
    “It passes up through Salisbury, where we have a choice of routes to London. If we stayed on nothing but cart paths we could spend days meandering through the countryside—and for what purpose? It’s more than likely we have already thrown off anyone seeking to follow us, so it seems in both of our interests to head to Town by the quickest possible way.”
     She nodded thoughtfully. “I think you are right.”
     “Good lord, will wonders never cease” he replied dryly, though a flash of humor sparked in his eyes.
     She turned to regard him with a serious countenance. “You think me a harridan. then?”
    “I am not sure....” His words were interrupted by the clatter of wheels as a sleek, well-sprung carriage  drawn by a pair of matched bays flew by them.
    Caroline stiffened in the saddle. “That carriage, it was at the inn this morning, I’m sure of it.”
     “No doubt it was. We are not the only travelers on the road, you know,” reasoned Davenport. “There is no need to become upset over every carriage that happens to pass us.”
    “The occupant of that carriage did not spend the night at the inn— I neither saw nor heard any one else moving about in any of the rooms,” countered Caroline. “So why would it be stopped there at that hour? It doesn’t make sense.”
     That gave the earl pause for thought.
     As they rounded a bend, they saw that a short distance up the road the carriage had pulled over and the coachman had dismounted to examine one of the front wheels.
    Caroline drew in her breath, her hands gripping the reins until they were nearly white.
    The earl took in her reaction, then reached around to remove something from his bag.
    “It’s all right. Continue on,” he said quietly as he slipped the pistol into the pocket of his coat. Catching her eye on his movements, he smiled grimly. “I am not as complete a fool as you imagined. Naturally I wouldn’t undertake a journey of this distance unarmed.”
    Caroline bit her lip and did as he bade.
    As they approached the vehicle at a easy walk, the coachman suddenly straightened and shoved his hands into the pockets of his caped driving coat.
    “Trouble?” inquired Davenport politely. He had placed himself between Caroline and the carriage, effectively shielding her from the view of anyone inside the vehicle.
    With a snake-like move the coachman slid into the middle of the road, blocking their passage. At the same time, he drew a brace of pistols from his coat and signaled for them to halt. “Be on yer way, if ye knows wots good for ye,” he growled at the earl. “Our business is with the girl.”  His eyes, half in shadow from the brim of his hat, darted to Caroline. “Get off the horse and get in the carriage.”
    Davenport made no move to continue on.
    The coachman appeared momentarily disconcerted. “Go on, I tell ye,” he said, waving one of the pistols