Page 14 of Rules for a Bastard Lord
Looked like the horses were taken care of.
“Dicky,” Bram tried, stretching for a reasonable tone. “We can just—”
“Take the carriage to Scotland. You’ll get your pay there.”
No, he wouldn’t. He crossed the room just as Clarissa stumbled in under the weight of two heavy satchels—clothing presumably. He nodded once, pleased that her color had returned, and then he grabbed Dicky’s arm and spoke low into the man’s ear.
“I know you plan to board a boat for the Colonies. Pay me now, and I’ll see that your tracks are covered. It’ll be years before they start looking elsewhere for you.”
It was the wrong thing to say. Clearly Dicky had thought he could escape to the New World without anyone ever thinking of him again. But one of the men he swindled had a shipping fleet. He could find Dicky if he put his mind to it. But Dicky hadn’t thought that far in advance, and he gaped at Bram.
“Surely no one will find us out there.”
Bram sighed. “Dicky, think—”
“No, no,” Dicky interrupted. “Damn it, I’m sorry, but we need every copper.”
“You just overpaid for two hacks and a pair of saddles,” he snapped.
Dicky nodded. “Exactly.”
Bram ground his teeth. “I’m only going to say this once. You’ll regret this. Pay me what you owe, and I’ll—”
“I can’t!” It was a wail, and Bram knew that Dicky actually believed what he said. And given their spendthrift ways, they probably did need every penny. And a good deal more besides.
“We were friends once, Dicky.” That was a stretch, but he’d use it. “Would you do this to a friend? You gave me your word as a gentleman.”
“Take the carriage. It’s yours.”
It wasn’t worth half what he was owed. “Not good enough.”
“It’s all you’re going to get.”
Bram pulled up to his full height. He put on his most frightening glower. But Dicky wasn’t a complete fool.
“You’re not going to beat me. Not in front of my wife. Not in front of these people. You only hurt people who deserve it.”
“You deserve it,” he said.
“No, I don’t. It’s only money, not blood. You fight for blood.”
He’d never quite phrased it that way, but perhaps the idiot had the right of it. It was only money, and Dicky wasn’t worth dirtying his knuckles. Besides, he knew he’d get his pay another way.
“Last chance, Dicky.”
The man wavered. Bram saw uncertainty in his eyes. Fear and regret, mixed with a true terror of his circumstance. But before Dicky could choose the honorable path, the boy returned. “They’re bringing round the horses.”
Thomas pointed, and sure enough the boy’s older brother was leading two yearlings, prancing in their tack. Lively things, but not worth what the man had just paid, especially since the saddles looked older than his grandfather.
“Come along, Clary,” Dicky said as he grabbed his wife. The two rushed out. The fact that Clarissa didn’t protest told him what he’d always suspected. The woman was in on all of her husband’s schemes. Bloody hell, the two were made for each another.
He watched them mount up. Dicky didn’t even help his wife but clambered up and waited impatiently as she struggled with her skirts. Then they were gone, pretending to ride up the north road, but he knew they’d veer off as soon as they were able. In another day, they’d be aboard a ship and headed far away.
He released a sigh of satisfaction, finally allowing himself to relax. Another job done and well paid. He whistled as he wandered outside and over to the carriage. Popping open theboot, he saw his bag. Feeling from the outside, he knew that the wad of bills he’d taken from Dicky’s treasure chest was still there.
“You’re awfully chipper for a man who got left with a broken-down carriage and no pay.”
He’d been aware Miss Bluebell was following him, but had hoped that ignoring her would encourage her to be on her way. Apparently, she was the stubborn sort. Worse, she was smart.
