Page 47 of The Lady’s No Angel

Still, Leo’s stalwart presence and the heavy thud of his horse’s hooves on the damp ground were comforting, steadying her. They had barely spoken today, certainly not about her request that he leave them once they’d found Jenny’s grave. The idea of demanding he go sat in her stomach, an unwieldy lump she could not face. Yet how could she involve him when he might decide he wanted the treasure for himself?

She did not think him a villain, far from it, but if Black Jack’s legacy was as rich as she suspected it might be… well, a sum like that could turn a man’s head.

Any conversation had long since died as the wind howled about them. It snatched at sounds, tugging them away and distorting others, disturbing the senses and making it hard to gauge what was miles away and what was right under their noses.

The knowledge that this place was one of judgement, of death, lingered here. That she would have known and recognised the sinister quality of the land about them even if it hadn’t been so notorious was hard to refute. There was a watchful quality to the scrubby landscape, the sense that it had seen too much, witnessed more human misery than it could bear.

Thin trees, gnarled and bent, shivered in the wind as the pony picked its way along the well-trodden path, the packed earth beneath its hooves white and studded with lumps of chalk that poked up like bleached bones. A sparse landscape of gorse and tangled undergrowth surrounded them.

Angel squinted against the glare of the sky. The harsh light made her head hurt.

“Bleedin’ hell,” Milly murmured, shifting closer to Angel on the bench.

They exchanged glances, needing no words to underscore the strange atmosphere.

Angel knew hundreds of people came to watch the executions, many folks thinking it grand entertainment, a jolly day out. The thought made her stomach roil.

The soft thud of hooves made her turn her head, and she saw Leo riding beside the gig. He’d taken Toby up before him again, and she was glad. Toby was no sheltered child, his life had been harsh from the time he was born, but he was a child still, and to see Leo guarding the lad, his muscular arms bracketing him on either side, made her heart hurt and soar all at once.

She lifted her gaze to his. The warm hazel of his eyes brimmed with concern. Are you all right? he asked, without ever speaking a word.

A good man.

Angel nodded silently.

They carried on, not speaking, until Angel could stand it no longer.

“This is where they brought Jenny. This place is the last thing she saw.” Her voice quavered uncertainly and Milly slid an arm about her, giving her shoulders a squeeze. “Pops said she was nine and twenty. Nine and twenty!”

Her grandfather’s voice sounded in her mind then, softer than usual, the way it did when he was lost in a memory. But what a life she lived, Angel. Wild and free, she was. Free as a bird, untamed and untameable. I’m glad I knew her.

I’m glad you knew her too, Pops.

Overhead, skylarks appeared again, their cheerful song at odds with their surroundings, making Angel’s skin prickle. The pretty, frivolous sound seemed to mock the gravity of what happened here, making them appear careless of the fate of those who lost their lives in this dreadful place.

Though they all knew what was coming, Angel wasn’t ready for it.

The gallows stood in the centre of an immense expanse of ground. Nothing more than two thick upright beams with another set atop. The well-trampled ground showed that the last execution had been recent, perhaps only hours ago.

“Good Lord, how ever shall we find her?” Milly whispered, gazing around at the expanse of scrubby ground, of flattened coarse grass and well-worn paths.

“There’s graves. Over there,” Toby called, pointing across the heath. “Fresh dug,” he added, his light boyish voice making the observation feel increasingly macabre.

Angel swallowed down the panic rising in her chest. Taking a breath, she told herself to be methodical. Yes, there was a great deal of land. No, there were not many obvious grave markers, but there were some, and Pops would not have sent her on a wild goose chase. At least, she hoped not.

Toby jumped down and Leo followed.

“You take care of the horses, Toby,” he told the boy, striding over to the gig.

“Well, Angel? Are you ready?”

Angel turned to stare at him, the sudden urge to throw herself into his arms and tell him to hold on tight hard to resist, but she would not be such a nitwit. Pops would be ashamed of her for such a ridiculous display. She was neither delicate nor cowardly.

“Yes,” she said, summoning a smile that felt too brittle.

Leo held out his hand to her and she took it, drawing comfort from the warm clasp of his fingers upon hers. Even through their gloves she felt it, the undercurrent that thrummed beneath them, heat and desire. It gave her strength.

He gave her fingers a quick squeeze before turning to help Milly.