She and Uncle Felix made their way around England targeting the stables of the most well-known whips, where Rose would enter pretending to be the newest hire, and leave during the night on the back of the stable’s finest horse. Uncle Felix would sell the horses off to another nobleman in another county before word of their crime ever had time to reach them. It was a lucrative scam, and one that Rose enjoyed probably a little too much.
The familiar sound of horses rustling in their stalls met Rose’s ear. She couldn’t help but wonder which of these horses was Carver’s? A pang of guilt pinched her. Would he forgive her if she stole his horse? What was she thinking? Of course he wouldn’t. The man would be livid. Or maybe she was wrong, and he would actually be relieved she had taken herself off and released him from his obligation.
But then Rose heard a larger rustling noise, one coming from behind her, and she froze in place. Before she had time to fully process the observation, someone had seized her from behind and clapped a strong large hand over her mouth.
Involuntary panic gripped her chest, but she managed to not release a scream into the calloused hand restraining her. Years of training had taught Rose to quickly push past fear and move to action.
She noted that whoever was holding her was easily twice her size and capable of committing significant harm, but he was not restraining her arms. Poor choice. Instinct took over and in one fluid motion, Rose flicked up her skirts, withdrew her pistol from its holster on her thigh, and pressed it firmly to the man’s temple behind her. He dropped his hand from her mouth but did not release his hold around her waist.
“Move and I’ll kill you,” Rose said with a chilling calm that conveyed her intent.
She was not exactly in the most commanding of positions, and she knew that the man could likely bat the pistol down easily enough. But she figured if she exuded enough confidence, he would not risk the movement.
For one tense moment no one said anything. She heard her own fast breath and felt the rapid pounding of the man’s heart against her back.
Good. Let him worry a touch.
Then a slight breeze pushed through the stables and swept a familiar and welcome scent under Rose’s nose—masculine and cool.
Was that? Oh, yes—the feeling of cold steel against his temple was most definitely the barrel of a pistol. Considering her alarmingly quick and precise drawing of the weapon, it was clear that the woman had been in a similar situation a time or two. Whether that made him feel better or worse, he wasn’t sure.
She had said not to move, but she hadn't mentioned anything about talking.
“I haven’t come to hurt you, Daphney.”
She did not lower the weapon an inch, or even seem surprised to hear his voice. “Why are you here, then?” She sounded perfectly calm but the slight tremble in her shoulders told him she wasn’t completely carefree.
“To talk to you,” he said. “And find out exactly who you are and why you’re pretending to be my mistress.”
He heard her push out a heavy breath. Was she relieved he knew the truth?
“How long have you known?” she asked.
“Are you going to shoot me if I say the whole time?”
The gun lowered, and she squirmed against his arm. “For goodness’ sake! Let me go,” she said, sounding more annoyed than actually upset.
He reluctantly let go of her waist, belatedly realizing he was still holding her. Under different circumstances, he would have vastly enjoyed getting to hold her in such a way. Actually, who was he kidding? He had enjoyed it even with a gun to his head.
She spun around and took a step backward, leveling the gun at his chest. “How did you know I wasn’t telling the truth?” Her eyes were narrowed. The woman looked fierce even in the darkness. It made his skin prickle as she held him in her gaze.
“For starters, I do not have any mistresses. And also…” he smiled, “I’m not Lord Newburry. But if you had knocked on the door two down from mine, you would have found him. I am Carver Ashburn, Earl of Kensworth and heir to the Duke of Dalton.”
He had the enjoyment of watching her mouth fall open at some point during that speech. But she quickly shut it and took an irritated breath in through her perfect nose.
“I’m going to kill the old fool,” she said through her teeth.
“Lord Newburry?”
“Uncle Felix,” said Rose, looking far away in thought.
“You told me you don't have any living family. Or was that just part of your lie?”
She shook her head, still distant in thought as she tried to pull all the pieces together. “That was the truth. I don’t have any family. He’s my…accomplice.”
Accomplice? So she really was some kind of professional thief. He knew it.
“And by the way he handled this job, it seems my accomplice is in need of retirement.” She raised her gun and gently tapped the barrel of the dashed thing against her mouth, deep in thought.