Page 7 of No Ordinary Lady

“No, we can’t,” Tommy agreed. “If she gives us any trouble, I’ll deal with her in my own way. Where is she, anyway?”

“Back with Crossman and the boy, no doubt. She’s always cozying up to the old man and spoiling the boy. Whispering to turn them against you,” Beatrice suggested, feeding Tommy’s insecurities with lies about her loyalties.

If Tommy believed Beatrice, and it seemed that he must, Marian was doomed.

“What are you going to do about tomorrow?”

“Nothing has changed,” Tommy promised, and Marian shivered in fear. “I want to wipe that smug smile off that fellow’s face.”

“We could always take a peek through the room while he sleeps tonight,” Beatrice suggested in a wheedling tone. “If he wakes, you could question him thoroughly and we wouldn’t have to tell the others about what we might find there.”

Marian pulled a face. They would tie him up or threaten him with harm unless he confessed the location of everything of value.

“No. It’s too risky. Someone might see us there. You’d go back to camp alone before he comes and finds us together,” Tommy said suddenly.

“I wouldn’t want that,” Beatrice crooned, “I’ll dream you are in my bed tonight.”

“You’d better,” Tommy growled, and then she heard the unmistakable sound of the pair kissing.

Marian pulled a face, trying not to hear Beatrice’s theatrical and probably fake moans of pleasure at being kissed on the other side of the tree.

After an excruciatingly long kiss, the pair walked away separately, but a chill was racing through Marian’s whole body at the dreadful discussion she’d overheard.

They wanted to get rid of her by any means. They would get rid of her and tonight.

She scrambled for her cloak and searched the pockets, even the secret ones she’d sewn herself.

Marian had almost given up the search when she touched something cold, she did not recognize. Puzzled, she withdrew her hand…and found a pretty lady’s ring she did not recognize.

Dull yellow gold band, and a single opal stone.

A pretty bauble meant for a lady.

She cursed under her breath. Billy must have found it in the handsome man’s pockets, and Tommy had told him to give it to her and let no one else see it first.

He would never normally have kept such a treasure. He would have given it directly to Crossman, as he had all other things.

She clearly remembered Billy touching her cloak, handing it to her just before she’d left their camp to change. Only Billy could have hidden it in her cloak without her suspecting him.

And Tommy had put him up to it. Threatened him with who knows what to betray her trust.

Marian cursed under her breath. If Crossman found her with this ring, even if she’d not known about it, it would not go well for her. Not well at all. And Billy could never reveal the truth of where it came from either, since he never spoke.

It would be her word against the irrefutable proof of riches in her possession.

She really was doomed.

She couldn’t trust anyone anymore. Not Tommy, Beatrice, Billy and not even Crossman.

Until now, she’d thought herself safe, protected, but there might be nothing to stop Tommy from getting rid of her once they convinced Crossman she had stolen from him.

But what was she to do about it?

She could hardly run to Crossman at camp, beg him to believe her and, in the next breath, accuse Tommy and Beatrice of trying to take over, which surely must be his plan. It certainly was Beatrice’s.

Marian’s instinct for survival had always been strong, and she checked all the secret pockets she’s stitched into her gown for reassurance that she had everything she cared about. Money. She’d always kept a bit of coin on her. Not so much that she jangled, but enough to pay for her next few meals. What she had was more than enough for a carriage ride out of Wraxall, but probably not enough for a room at an inn, too.

But she was a survivor and unconcerned with the strict morals proper ladies lived by. There were plenty of places to find shelter.