Her gaze settled on her travel trunk. Heading out into the night was a dangerous endeavor. This might not be London, but she didn’t know the area, or what wild beasts might lurk outside in the dark.
She considered her options for a moment, then crossed the floor to the trunk and threw the lid open. From the bottom of the case, she took out a small solid weapons box. Within minutes she had her pistol loaded, and a shot purse in her hands.
What had Coco said? If you load a weapon and point it at someone, make sure you are prepared to fire it.
If I find him in bed with one of the servants, what will I do?
Shooting her new husband might not be the best course of action. Victoria blinked back tears. Maybe she should put the weapon away.
“But if he is playing me false, this might give him just enough of a fright,” she muttered. Victoria dropped the loaded pistol into her right pocket, and the shot purse into her left. Reachingfor the doorknob, she gave a prayer. “Please lord, don’t let it be that.”
The house was eerily quiet. No light, no sound. Victoria stood at the top of the stairs and listened. The thump of her heart was the only thing she could hear. Slowly making her way downstairs, she stopped every few steps and listened once more.
Nothing. No one moved about the house.
She had just got to the bottom of the staircase and was considering whether it was wise or ridiculously foolish to head down to the servants quarters, when she caught sight of a flash of light from outside the window. Victoria hurried over and pressed her face to the glass, peering out into the night.
At the top of the laneway which snaked through the estate all the way from the stables through to the main road, a group of laborers was hauling a wagon laden with what appeared to be crates. Behind them walked Jasper the steward. Beside him strode Robert. Both men were carrying rifles.
What the devil are they doing?
Tolley Manor grew fruit, vegetables, and herbs. And from what she understood, there were no crops which required harvesting in the middle of the night.
A well-bred noblewoman would decide it wasn’t her place to get involved in such matters. That she had a household and servants to deal with, and that what happened outside wasn’t her concern. Victoria had never been one for resisting the lure of curiosity.
“Care ‘ll kill a cat, but I won’t remain ignorant of what is going on at my home,” she muttered.
Slipping quietly out the rear entrance of the main house, Victoria followed the small procession of estate workers, steward, and duke as they continued down the lane.
The men were all silent; no one spoke. From the way they all walked, continually checking from left to right, it soon became clear to her that this was not the first time any of them had undertaken this kind of work.
What are they doing?
Her heart raced as she trailed them, silent as a wraith. Whenever one of the group turned to look back down the lane, Victoria would dash behind a tree and hide. And when she reached the stretch of the road where there was no cover, she simply crouched and remained as still as she could, hoping that no one saw her.
A half mile down the road, the little group came to a halt. The wagon was dragged off to one side, and Robert moved forward. From her vantage point, Victoria caught sight of a large ring of keys in his hand. The jangle of them was loud enough to split the night.
The Tolley Manor workers moved out of the way as their master disappeared from the road and into the undergrowth. Victoria quickly moved, taking up a spot behind a nearby tree.
Robert eventually reappeared, after which both he and Jasper stepped aside, as the workers began unloading the wagon. What appeared to be crates and barrels were lifted down and carried off into the trees. Each time the men returned, their hands were empty. Somewhere out of sight of the road they were storing the load.
Victoria pursed her lips. She couldn’t understand why they would have to move barrels and crates in the dead of night. The only logical reason would be that they didn’t want to be seen.
At least he isn’t warming the bed of another woman.
While she consoled herself with that thought, she wasn’t entirely sure if what she was witnessing was any better. Her hopeful heart told her it was, but fear and nagging doubt whispered it was something else. Something much worse.
Robert took a swig of whisky from his hipflask. It was close to five in the morning and the air was chilly. He smiled at the thoughtful gift his new bride had given him. Victoria’s wedding present was both stylish and functional. The thought of his wife, still sleeping soundly in their bed, pricked sharply at his guilt.
Victoria was under the impression that he was a sweet-hearted farmer who wrote reviews for the newspaper in his spare time. What she would make of things if she were to ever discover that her husband was in fact a highwayman, a smuggler, and an unashamed thief.
Would she hate me?
Could he possibly make her understand his reasons for stealing from the East India, his need to break their vice-like monopoly, or would she see him as nothing more than an outright villain? A scoundrel who had no business in marrying a woman of noble birth.
In the past that might not have bothered him, but it certainly did now. He couldn’t imagine looking at Victoria and knowing that she saw him as less of a man. That she was married to someone who had broken the rules of honor in order to do what he thought was right. His mantra ofby all means necessarynow sounded so empty.
If George and his wife could hear him now, they’d laugh themselves hoarse. Robert had always brushed away theirconcerns about these illegal endeavors. But finding himself in this strange position, wondering if it was all worthwhile, made him finally see their side of things.
