The next thing she knew, Daniel had yanked Mr. Wallace off the mare onto the ground. The two men rolled over and over together as the horse shied away. Daniel was stronger and bigger, so he quickly had Mr. Wallace pinned beneath him. Then Mr. Wallace used his empty pistol to give Daniel a stunning blow to the head that sent him reeling back.
When Mr. Wallace shoved Daniel off, then lifted the pistol to strike him again Helena saw red. Coming up behind Mr. Wallace, she hit him squarely on his skull with the silver top of her cane, using such force that the cane broke and the silver head spun off into the bushes.
Mr. Wallace slumped to the ground.
She stood there staring at him and trembling, hardly
able to believe that she’d just crowned a man. “Oh, dear, have I killed him?” she asked, a note of frantic concern in her voice. She could see it now: the trial, the ride to the gibbet…the scandal!
Daniel rose to his knees beside Mr. Wallace, then felt for a pulse. “No, he’s still living, more’s the pity.” He shot her an admiring glance. “You’ve got an arm on you, lass. Wallace didn’t know what hit him.” Then he leaped to his feet, his face darkening into a scowl. “Though that was a bloody stupid thing to do.”
“Yes, he should have known better than to accost us, with you so large and—”
“I’m not talking about
him.
” Daniel grabbed her by the shoulders. “You could’ve got yourself killed with that little trick! Attacking an armed man with a walking stick—are you mad? You’re lucky he didn’t shoot you!”
The broken half of her maligned cane slipped from her fingers. “What else was I to do?” she protested, though her trembling had turned to an uncontrollable shaking at the thought of her rash action. “You were practically
daring
him to kill you!”
“He wouldn’t have shot me in cold blood.”
“How do you know? It’s not as if he likes you. And if he’d shot you, I couldn’t have borne it!”
He stared down at her, his leaden gaze slowly warming, melting. “I was in a bloody terror myself, the whole time he was aiming at you. If he’d hurt you, I swear I would’ve killed him with my bare hands.” He cupped her cheek. “So don’t ever do anything like that again, all right? You damned near took ten years off my life, you did.”
A sweet warmth stole through her, banishing all her trembling. A shaky smile touched her lips. “It was partly
your
fault I did it, you know. If you hadn’t mentioned
knocking the free traders over the head with my cane this afternoon, I wouldn’t even have thought of it.”
“I s’pose that’s what I get for giving you ideas.”
Mr. Wallace groaned. Daniel abruptly released her, went to Mr. Wallace’s side, and knocked him on the head again with the butt of the pistol lying close at hand. Removing the man’s stock from around his neck, Daniel then tied his hands with it.
Then he hurried to the gig with Mr. Wallace’s pistol and shoved it into a bag, swearing as he rooted around for something else. Once he found it, he returned to her side to press it into her hand. “If you’re itching to murder somebody, at least use a proper weapon. Aim this at him while I finish tying him up.” He started working loose his cravat. “Next time you can be sure I’ll keep it a lot closer to hand.”
She glanced down at what he’d given her and nearly dropped it. Another pistol, this one bigger and more intimidating than Mr. Wallace’s. And probably loaded, too. Lord, she’d never used a pistol in her life. “Next time?” she echoed. “Surely you don’t think we’ll need to defend ourselves again.”
Daniel slid his cravat from around his neck. “Wallace had other men with him, remember? I don’t know why they’re not here now, but I don’t intend to wait around for them to show up.”
Mr. Wallace stirred, and she jerked the pistol up toward him as a hysterical giggle bubbled up in her throat. What was the proper etiquette for holding a pistol on a man? Yet another area Mrs. N had not addressed. Did one inform the man that he might die at any moment? Wave it in his face? Oh, what was a Well-bred Young Lady to do?
Thankfully, she did not have to ponder the possibilities long. Within seconds, Daniel had bound the man’s an
kles. Mr. Wallace began struggling as he grew conscious, but his struggles were fruitless. Daniel had tied him exceedingly well.
Rising from the ground, Daniel rolled Mr. Wallace onto his back, then planted his boot in the middle of the man’s chest. “Where are your men?”
Mr. Wallace glared up at him. “Go to hell!”
“Odds are good that I will, but in the meantime—” Daniel leaned forward, placing weight on the man’s chest.
“Where are your men?”
“They’ll be along any minute,” Mr. Wallace spat.
“Then I won’t waste time talking.” Daniel held his hand out to her, though he kept his gaze fixed on Mr. Wallace. “Give me my pistol, lass. We might as well finish off the scoundrel now, before he can cause us any more trouble.”
“Daniel!” she protested, both fascinated and horrified by his savagery.
But one black look from him made her hand him the pistol. He aimed it at Mr. Wallace’s head and cocked it.
“Wait!” Mr. Wallace croaked out. “They’re…they’re up ahead, in Sedlescombe.”
“That’s better.” Daniel uncocked the pistol, eliciting sighs of relief from both her and Mr. Wallace.
“They’ll be watching for me,” Mr. Wallace warned, “and if I don’t show up they’ll come back here. See if they don’t.”
“Why didn’t they come with you in the first place?” Helena asked, genuinely curious.
He said nothing, avoiding her gaze.
“Answer the lady!” Daniel dug his boot into Mr. Wallace’s chest, and the man coughed.
“That’s enough, Daniel,” she interjected. “I’m sure Mr. Wallace is more than willing to explain, and we are not barbarians, after all.”
“Speak for yourself” Daniel grumbled, but he eased the pressure on Mr. Wallace’s chest. “Well, Wallace, it appears my wife is too softhearted to see me crush you like I ought, but you’ve got ten seconds to answer our questions before I lodge a ball in your idiot skull. Tell us why your friends didn’t join you in this escapade.”
Mr. Wallace eyed the pistol warily. “They didn’t want to.”
“Why? Did they disapprove of your nasty plans for her?”
There was so much venom in Daniel’s words that Mr. Wallace looked alarmed. “Now see here, don’t you go jumpin’ to conclusions. Pretty as yer wife is, I meant her no harm.”
“You were going to carry her off!”
“Not because I wanted to hurt her or nothin’.”
Daniel stared down at him in clear confusion. “Then why?”
Mr. Wallace struggled against his bonds once more, then, recognizing that it was futile, slumped back on the ground. “Because of Crouch, of course.”
“Crouch? What have you to do with Crouch?” He waved the pistol at him. “If you think claiming some connection to him will frighten me into letting you go, you’re a bigger fool than you look.”
“That ain’t what I mean!” Mr. Wallace swallowed hard. “I just figured it weren’t no coincidence you were lookin’ for his man Pryce. And I figured that he’d like to hear of it, considerin’ who you are an’ all. I thought he might even pay me for it, ’specially if I was to lure you to him meself, using yer wife.”
Helena’s heart thumped madly. Had Mr. Wallace somehow figured out the connection between her and
Juliet, between Daniel and Griff? “What do you mean, ‘who we are and all’?” she asked in a panic.
Mr. Wallace looked over at her. “Not who
you
are, Mrs. Brennan. Who yer husband is. Y’know what I mean—one of Jolly Roger’s lot from years back.”
The words tore through her, shredding her heart, making her stomach roil. So Daniel
had
lied, after all? After all the promises he’d made, he’d lied to her again?
“That’s enough from you,” Daniel spat, pressing down against Mr. Wallace’s chest, confirming the truth of his words.
Fighting back tears, she stepped forward. “Stop it! I want to hear.”
“Helena—” Daniel began, his eyes suddenly a stormy gray.
“I have a right to know, since Crouch has abduct—” She broke off, all too aware of how Mr. Wallace listened to every word. She met his gaze with determination. “Tell me about my husband and Jolly Roger Crouch. Danny has been rather reticent on the subject.” Perhaps she’d misunderstood. Oh, please, let her have misunderstood!
Mr. Wallace glanced warily from her to Daniel. “Make him take his foot off my chest, and I’ll tell you whatever you want.”
“Daniel?” she said softly. “The man is tied up, with a pistol aimed at his head. I hardly think he’ll be escaping.”
Daniel stared at her a long moment, a muscle working in his jaw. Finally, he cursed and jerked his foot back. Mr. Wallace sat up awkwardly, forced by his bonds to hunch his shoulders and keep his legs bent. Daniel continued to aim the pistol at him, but the man ignored it.
“All right, tell me,” she whispered.
He lifted sullen eyes to her. “Not much to tell. Back
when the war was on and Customs an’ Excise in London couldn’t spare the men to catch us, smugglin’ was a mite easier. And Jolly Roger was the best, with two hundred men at his command.”
“But what did Danny have to do with it? How long did he work for Jolly Roger?”
He shot Daniel a hostile look. “More’n eight years, from what I heard. They said he joined the gang when he was nine. That’s why they called him Danny Boy, ’cause he was so young.”
Oh, Lord, it made perfect sense. Danny Boy. That was why he hated the nickname so much and why that tart in St. Giles had called him by it. He’d
said
he was raised in Sussex, which was where Crouch’s gang was located. She’d forgotten about that.
“Even as a young one,” Mr. Wallace went on, “Danny Boy was more clever than most. Knew plenty about figures an’ all. By the time he was seventeen, he was payin’ his way an’ then some. That’s why Jolly Roger made him his lieutenant. Jolly Roger tripled his profits when Danny worked for him.”
His
lieutenant?
A knot tightened in her stomach. It was even worse than she’d thought. Not only had he blatantly lied about knowing Crouch, he’d deliberately deceived her about what he’d done for the man. A lieutenant did not hold the horses. “It’s true, isn’t it, Daniel?” she accused him, her hurt rapidly flaring into anger.
At least he had the decency to look guilty. “Yes.” Then his gaze locked with hers and grew belligerent. “I never claimed I was aught but a smuggler all those years ago, y’know. You’re the one who assumed I was something less.”
Yes, because he’d twisted the truth to suit her impressions of him, the way he’d done with the innkeeper’s
wife. What a smooth liar he was, the wretch! “But you knew what I thought. And you let me go on thinking it.”
He merely jerked his gaze back to Mr. Wallace, who seemed to be enjoying the little contretemps.
“Didn’t you tell yer wife about yer adventures with Crouch?” Mr. Wallace grinned maliciously. “No, I don’t s’pose you did, her bein’ gentry an’ all. I’ll bet she wouldn’t have been so eager to marry you if she’d known it, and her father would’ve had the hounds after you.”
“Stubble it!” Daniel snapped, glaring down at the man.
How terribly ironic that Mr. Wallace had hit accidentally on the truth. Papa probably
would
be unhappy to hear the full extent of Daniel’s past. Or did he know it all, as well? It would be just like him not to reveal what he knew about Daniel’s and Griff’s pasts.
After all, he believed in keeping women ignorant, not telling them what they needed to know. Unshed tears clogged her throat. Just like Daniel, whom she’d thought was a better man than Papa.
But they were two sides of the same coin. God forbid that a woman should be secretive, but men could be as closemouthed as they liked, and they were praised for it. A pox on them all!
Another awful thought occurred to her. How long had Daniel known that it was his former compatriot who had Juliet? Since London? Was that why he’d agreed to go after her? Had he intended
never
to reveal any of this?
Through a dim haze she heard Daniel tell Mr. Wallace, “So you thought to lure me to Crouch by taking Helena, did you? And you thought Crouch would pay you for it?” Daniel laughed mirthlessly. “Then you don’t know him very well. He wouldn’t pay you—he’d just send his own men out for me and wish you to the devil.” Daniel wouldn’t look at her. His features seemed carved in stone
as he glowered down at Mr. Wallace. “You still haven’t explained why your men didn’t join you in this grand plan.”
Mr. Wallace shot him an insolent look. “They didn’t like the idea, is all.” He twisted against his knots, then lapsed back into stillness. “Aside from the lot of them bein’ cowards an’ afraid to cross you
or
deal with Crouch, they—” He glanced at Helena. “Well, they liked yer missus. They said I should leave well enough alone an’ let the two of you go on about yer business.”
“Good advice. You should’ve heeded it.” Turning to Helena, Daniel handed her the pistol. “Don’t let him out of your sight. And shoot him if you must.”
“Where are you going?” she demanded, feeling the awful weight of the pistol settle in her hand once more as he strode back to the gig.
“He’s probably telling the truth about his men—they’ll head back this way looking for him when he doesn’t show up in Sedlescombe.” Daniel unloaded their meager belongings from the gig and set them beside the road. Then he pried the gig shafts out of the mud. “I don’t want to make it too easy for them.”
He pulled the carriage off the road and behind the copse, where it was scarcely noticeable unless someone looked closely. Then he returned to Mr. Wallace and hefted the bound man over his shoulder.
“Now see here,” Mr. Wallace protested, “you’re not going to leave me out here, are you? It’ll be hours before they find me!”
“I’m counting on it.”
Still heartsick from Mr. Wallace’s revelations, Helena followed Daniel to watch as he tossed Mr. Wallace roughly onto the seat of the gig. While Wallace was still wriggling, Daniel leaned close to clasp him about the
throat. “Listen to me, you bloody arse, and listen well. Your men had the right idea. If you’d taken Helena, I would’ve hunted you down like the dog that you are and cut your heart out.”