Page 55 of Barely a Woman
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“Can you not see, Morgan? The necessity of my plan? Lord Atwood is a remorseless monster.”
She remained unspeaking for heartbeat upon heartbeat, before wading into the plaintive question. “I don’t know. Surely, there must be another way.”
Steadman set his chin with grim determination. “There is no other way. This is the way.”
When she failed to speak another word as they returned to the inn, regret nibbled at the edges of his confidence. The glorious union of the kiss in the chapel seemed from another lifetime, and Morgan a wondrous ghost now fading into the mist.Have I ruined everything?Probably. But he’d lived a life of risky decisions with sometimes regrettable consequences. How could he stop now? He knew he was broken in that way, and quite beyond repair.
Chapter Seventeen
As Morgan and Steadman rode with caution toward the barn under cover of darkness, she said little even as he explained what would or could happen. Morgan remained deeply conflicted over his contradictory position of fighting for justice while wounding innocents in seeking that justice. His desire for vengeance was appropriate, natural, human. His manner of seeking it was not. It was like setting fire to a field to kill a snake. The plan to ruin his entire family was discordantly out of step with everything she had learned of him, both before and since their first meeting. As they turned off the main road toward the empty tenant village, Morgan could hold her tongue no longer. She glanced back over her shoulder to find the blacksmith and his associates driving a pair of wagons along the road some distance behind, as planned. She loosened her suddenly constricting cravat and glared sidelong at him.
“I am not pleased with you, Steadman.”
“I am aware.”
She huffed a breath. “You plan to take revenge on a man who destroys innocents by, in turn, destroying innocents. You claim that sacrifice is necessary for justice, but you are choosing for others to sacrifice instead of you. Should not the sacrifice beyours?”
“Ithasbeen.” His response erupted with pique. In the ensuing pause, his expression melted again toward calm resolve. “I left behind a title, an estate, a high social station. For fifteen years, I have been running, hiding, planning, acting, only to run and hide again. I have denied myself every luxury, lived in hovels and caves and forest shelters in search of justice. I have gone hungry every winter until my clothes hung limp, denied myselfevery meaningful friendship, and set aside any opportunity for family.” He paused for several heartbeats. “Ihavesacrificed, Morgan. Every day for my entire adult life. And now, the reward for my sacrifice is in sight. I cannot turn back now.”
As his declaration washed past Morgan, empathy for his difficult journey and the sorrow he had suffered surged through her soul like the mighty Thames. However, she could not agree with his assertion that more suffering was necessary to justify his sacrifices. With nothing to say, she focused her attention ahead as they entered the village until a pistol appeared in her peripheral vision. She found Steadman extending it to her, butt first.
“Take this. I have loaded it with two shots. Keep it close.” When she failed to accept it, he added, “Please. For your sake, not mine.”
She grudgingly collected the weapon and threaded the twin barrels through her belt. He grunted approval, but she said nothing. He leaned toward her and grabbed her horse’s bridle near the bit, bringing both animals to a stop. She shot him a disapproving glare.
“Why did you stop me?”
The minimal moonlight left his face mostly a canvas of shadows. “I fail to understand why you insisted on joining me tonight. Though Three-Finger Jack appears to have become an ally, all manner of disaster could befall us. He could turn against us. Lord Atwood could send other men. Other law enforcement might attempt to stop us. Did I not explain the multitude of dangers?”
“You did, repeatedly and thoroughly. However, I will take my own stand. You are not the only one allowed to lay claim to lofty principles, sir.”
He nodded slowly. “Although I greatly prefer that you remain out of harm’s way, I admire your good intentions and abundant resolve. Just another reason I hold you in such high regard.”
“If you hold me in such high regard, why not consider my misgivings over your plan?”
“I have done nothing but consider your misgivings since this morning. But if I turn aside now, who will I be? Fifteen years of my life will have been for naught, as if I had never existed.”
She heaved a deep sigh of defeat. “You are wrong. Lucy would certainly disagree that her time with you was for naught. The poor people you fed over the years would certainly take exception to your claim. And if not for you, I would never have known the joy of having been desired by a good man.” Unwelcome and inconvenient tears filled the wells of her eyes. “Nothing you have done has been for naught, Steadman. I am living testimony of that.”
He failed to offer a reply, remaining inscrutable in the cloying darkness. How she wished to know his expression! But he remained a cypher. He turned his horse away, and she followed. As they cleared the village and approached the barn, Steadman pulled up his horse and motioned for her to do the same. Three torches illuminated the door and a pair of wagons. Three-Finger Jack’s men were already loading the vehicles. With the other wagons Steadman had assembled and the young men Morgan had recruited, they expected to empty the barn in one trip. She eyed Steadman, waiting.
“Will you do one favor for me.” His question bordered on pleading.
“Perhaps.”
“Will you at least remain at the periphery, out of the torches’ reach, and watch for uninvited guests?”
“Because?”
“Because I still fear what Jack might do if he learns that my Bow Street associate and Miss Brady are one and the same. He is a dangerous man, and I might not be able to protect you from his entire gang.”
His concern touched a nerve. It must be difficult for the great Beau Monde Highwayman to admit his limitations, his vulnerability. She dipped her chin.
“Very well. I will remain on the periphery.”
“Thank you.” He spurred his horse toward the barn. “Gentleman! Wonderful to see you here tonight and already the model of industriousness!”
