“Heavens above!” Ava grabbed Valentine’s arm. “I may be mistaken, but that rider looked like Jonathan. Did you tell him we were here?”
Valentine had left a note with Honora when Ava returned home to change clothes and fetch her cloak. “I informed him of our intention, yes.”
Her eyes grew wide with panic. “Then we must go after him before he does something he may live to regret.”
Valentine seemed to spend every waking minute chasing Jonathan Kendall’s coattails. The man was unpredictable, acted without thought or logic. But there was no denying he cared for his sister, and so Valentine ushered them into the carriage and ordered Sprocket to give chase.
They held on to the leather straps as they bounced and swayed along the narrow lane. A thump on the roof above forced Valentine to yank down the window.
“Do you have the men in your sights?” he called up to Sprocket.
“They’re just a bit farther ahead, milord.”
The wind whipped Valentine’s face as he thrust his head fully out of the window. The glare from the carriage lamp made it impossible to see more than a few feet in front. A sudden biting chill on the back of his neck alerted him to the fact that Ava had lowered her window, too.
“I think I see them,” she called out amidst the violent rumbling of the wheels and the rush of wind whistling through the conveyance. “Jonathan is riding alongside Mr Fairfax.”
Valentine leant further out to gain a better view.
Two black shadows moved and swayed in the distance as their horses pounded the dirt. The animals galloped so closely together one mistake would see both men thrown from their horses. Valentine would not want to be the one riding close to the edge, for the road dropped away to the left, dropped down sharply into a ravine.
“What? No!” Ava cried. “They’re fighting. It is too dark to identify which one is Jonathan.”
Valentine agreed. The collars of both men’s coats touched their chins. Seated in the saddle, they were of a similar height and frame. He could do nothing but watch them push and kick and grab each other’s coat sleeves as they raced along at breakneck speed.
It crossed his mind to load his pistol, to aim and wait for a clear shot of Fairfax, but even he lacked the skill to fire accurately under such terrifying conditions.
With each rider trying to wrestle the other from his horse, it came as no surprise when the man on the right slipped from the saddle.
Ava gasped. “Jonathan!” she called despite not knowing if the rider hanging on by the reins—and with one leg still draped across the saddle—was her brother or Fairfax.
Just when Valentine thought he might predict the outcome of the battle, the rider seated upright took his gaze off the road to beat his opponent to the ground. Obsessed with victory, he failed to notice the low-hanging branch until it smacked his head. The force of the impact knocked him clean off the horse and sent him tumbling down into the ravine.
“Jonathan!” With her voice choked with emotion, Ava repeated her brother’s name numerous times. “Oh, please don’t let it be him.”
Sprocket brought the carriage to a grinding halt.
As soon as the wheels stopped turning, they were all out of the carriage and racing towards the scene. Both horses continued galloping along the lane. Not knowing who the rider was attempting to regain his seat on the saddle, they all peered down the dark ravine, looking for a body below.
Sprocket approached with a lantern held aloft.
“Come a bit closer to the edge,” Valentine said to the coachman. The bank leading down into the valley was not too steep to navigate. “Hold the lantern while I climb down.”
“Is that wise?” Ava appeared at his side and clutched his arm.
“How else will we know if he’s alive?”
If it was Jonathan, Valentine would do everything in his power to save him. If it was Fairfax, he would ensure the fellow never made it out of the ravine.
“Sprocket must have a rope under his seat,” Drake said.
“I don’t need a rope. Just keep the lantern high.” Without another word, Valentine stepped off the edge of the road onto the grassy verge that petered down into the valley. He slipped numerous times on dead bracken as he crabbed sideways down to where a man lay sprawled on his front.
Valentine grabbed the still man’s arm and turned him over, relieved to find the cold, lifeless eyes of Mr Fairfax staring back at him. Crouching beside the body, Valentine checked for a pulse.
“It’s Fairfax,” he shouted up to where Ava and Drake stood waiting with Sprocket. From what he could tell, the impact had snapped the rogue’s neck. “He’s dead.”
Valentine wasn’t sure if they heard him, but as he began his ascent back up the steep hill, he saw Ava fling her arms around a figure too small to be Devlin Drake.