Never Less Than A Lady | Herophine

Chapter Four

Josephine

Swearing, Arthur handed the chain to Bennett. “Take her damned ladyship into the bushes before I strangle her.”

He took a swig from the jug and passed it to one of the others as Josephine struggled dizzily to her feet and followed Bennett into the nearest clump of shrubs, a hundred yards or so from the carriage. At least the chain was long enough to allow her a measure of privacy, and her captor turned away as she went behind a bush.

When she emerged, the young man said awkwardly, “I’m sorry, my lady.”

“Probably not sorry enough to set me free,” she said dryly.

“No, ma’am,” he said with regret. “Even if I did, you wouldn’t get far.”

He was right. The hills were mostly plain pasture, and the moonlight would make her easy to chase down.

Wishing she had worn her shawl, she was turning toward the carriage when she saw a dark shape loom up behind Bennett. An instant later, the young man collapsed, Josephine’s chain rattling as it dropped to the ground.

Josephine gasped. “Who…?”

Her words were cut off as a hard hand clamped over her mouth. “Silence,” the man breathed in her ear. “We must leave as fast and quietly as possible.”

She froze, shocked. There was something familiar in that whispered voice. But the man whose name flashed through her mind couldn’t possibly be here.

No matter. Any rescuer would do. She nodded and he released her. She saw he carried some sort of rifle.

After she wrapped the loose chain around her arm to silence it, he bent over, gesturing for her to do the same. His clothing was dark and his face covered, making him a shadow among shadows. Her gown was also dark. They moved away from the cluster of bushes, heading parallel to the road and back the way she’d come.

Her rescuer was a master at taking advantage of any cover available. Luckily Arthur and his other two men were talking and laughing as they passed the jug around. She hoped they wouldn’t notice how long her visit to the shrubbery was taking.

After they rounded the bend and had the hill and some trees between themselves and Arthur, her rescuer stopped and turned to her. His lean, broad-shouldered form still seemed familiar, but his identity was obscured by a dark scarf.

She caught her breath when he tugged off the concealing scarf. Cool moonlight slid over dark hair and the lethal elegance of his chiselled features. Impossibly, her rescuer was Major Hero Fiennes Tiffin, as beautiful and fearsome as hell’s angels.

Recognition was followed by a feeling of inevitability. She’d first met Hero at Hartley Manor, when he and two others had come in search of their missing friend, Felix. They’d found him with Rose, mistress of the manor at the time. Of Felix’s friends, Hero was the prickliest, the wariest.

For some reason, probably punishment for her sins, there was an itchy, powerful connection between them that was as undeniable as it was unwelcome. When the group made the long journey to London together, Hero wouldn’t even ride in the same carriage with her. She’d been grateful for that.

Yet of all the men on earth, he was the one who had rescued her. “Why you, Major Tiffin?” she asked softly, her question more philosophical than practical.

He answered literally. “On the way back from Scotland, I decided to call on the Townsends.” His voice was equally soft as he started again at a brisk pace. Now that he had straightened up, his limp was visible and worse than she remembered.