The Marriage Rescue. Joanna Johnson
nodded and spurred his horse onwards. Refusing to be outpaced, Djali surged forward too, and the horses flew neck and neck across the final stretch.
As they approached the screen of branches Edward began to slow. ‘Miss Agres. Stop.’ He pulled his mare up short.
Frowning, Selina did the same, and watched as Edward dismounted and hooked his reins over a branch. ‘I want you to wait here.’
‘What? No!’ She slipped down from Djali’s back and moved to stand at his head. ‘Mr Fulbrooke, there’s no way I’ll be leaving my people to face this alone!’
‘Be sensible.’ Edward’s voice was steady. ‘If what you have told me is true, these men were drawn here by your presence. What effect do you think it will have if you suddenly appear in front of them?’
Selina opened her mouth, but her reply was quickly cut off by Edward’s outstretched hand. He stood so close he could have touched her if he’d chosen to. His proximity made Selina’s heart skip an unwilling beat and she quickly took a step backwards.
‘The last thing either of us wants is to make things worse. I would consider it a personal favour if you would stay here until I come to find you.’ He looked away. ‘I would also like to know that you’re safe.’
Selina blinked at him. He actually sounded concerned for her welfare. In all probability it was an affectation, born out of some misguided upper-class notion of honour, although she might have been fooled, had she been the foolish type, into believing he was genuine. And yet—to her shame—the notion that he might harbour some kind of regard for her wasn’t unpleasant. Certainly some small part of her—a disloyal part, she thought crossly—hoped, against her better judgement, that he might be sincere.
Why, Lina? Because he’s handsome? Selina scoffed at herself, irritated by her own brief weakness. You should know better than that. Why should he feel any kind of concern for you? And why should you want it?
‘I’ll stay here,’ she said reluctantly. ‘But only because I know you speak the truth. I can well imagine what would happen if those men laid eyes on me again.’
Edward nodded. ‘I’m glad. Now I’ll go and see what can be done to help your people.’
Selina stared at the ground. Edward’s boots really were the best she had ever seen, and it was much easier to look at them than into the eyes of their owner. ‘Thank you.’
‘Don’t thank me yet.’
There was an edge of grim humour to Edward’s voice, and Selina chanced a glance up at his face. His firm jaw was fixed, and even in the pale light of the moon she could see the set of his expression. He looked determined, yet calm, and the combination only served to emphasise the handsome lines of his features. Selina twisted her fingers together beneath the cover of her cloak.
‘We need to make sure I’m successful first. I intend to seek out every man who thinks he has the right to do this, and show him the error of his ways. Now, please, hide yourself. I hope to be back soon.’
Selina watched as he moved cautiously through the trees and vanished from her sight. Well, I did what I could. It was all up to Edward now, she supposed as she settled herself against the thick trunk of a spreading oak.
And what of Mama? Zillah’s earlier rebuke echoed through Selina’s mind. Would she really be so appalled? Or would she understand that family came first and must be protected even if at great personal cost?
Edward had taken her by surprise so far, she could not deny it. His conduct towards her had been far better than she would have expected from a gentleman—and a Fulbrooke, come to that. His face was undeniably pleasing, though his fair looks were in stark contrast to the dark Roma handsomeness, strange but not unappealing in their novelty.
Not that you should care for such pretty manners, or notice the colour of his eyes, she reminded herself sternly. It took more than such trivial things to impress her. It was just an observation, and one she would continue to strive to banish from her mind.
She shivered. A glance down at her hands showed that they still shook—with cold or fear? she wondered. She strained her ears, both hoping and dreading to catch a whisper of a clue as to what was happening beyond the trees, but there was nothing save the quiet breathing of the horses and the sigh of leaves stirring in the night air.
Selina squeezed her eyes shut. Oh, Mama. What would you have done?
* * *
Edward felt the brutal atmosphere change to one of shamefaced fear almost as soon as he stepped from the camp’s shadows into the light of Harris’s torch and swept it from his hand with rough force. One glance at Edward’s flame-lit face—rigid with cold fury—was enough to make the group of men, frozen in the act of battering the spoked wheels of a caravan, decide that perhaps the Roma had learned their lesson, and Edward might almost have laughed at the instantaneous change of their voices from jeering to pleading.
‘We were just trying to protect Miss Ophelia, sir,’ Milton ventured meekly, attempting to hide a club behind his back as his friends shuffled from foot to foot, their eyes sliding past Edward to fix on the ground.
‘Do you think me a simpleton, man?’
Edward turned to him, feeling the rage that bubbled within him course hotly through his veins. The Roma women inside their caravans must have been beside themselves, he thought disgustedly. What kind of man could take pleasure in such a thing?
‘We both know this has nothing to do with my sister and everything to do with your need to bully those you feel beneath you. Am I wrong? Do you disagree? Answer me!’
The gamekeeper stared down at his boots, the ashen shade of his face visible even in the moonlight. ‘I... I’m not...’
‘Not a bully? Of course you are. You all are. What other possible explanation could there be for ten men to go to the effort of seeking out and then attacking a camp full of women and children?’
Edward glared down at the man from his great height. The image of Selina’s terrified expression and shaking body flashed before him and he felt his fury surge upwards. Even if the Romani woman hadn’t been such an undeniable beauty—which, he had to admit to himself, was part of the reason he had extended the hand of friendship in the first place—he still would have interceded on her behalf. How dared these men take it upon themselves to behave so appallingly on his estate? And, to add insult to injury, to pretend they did so out of loyalty to his sister?
‘You didn’t do this for Ophelia.’
He gestured across the camp, catching glimpses of the damage as he turned. Cooking pots and blankets lay strewn across the ground, evidently kicked about by heavy boots, and more than one lantern had been hurled down to burst into shards of glass. The caravans had fared better than he had feared, at least. The half-hour it had taken for Selina to return with him hadn’t left the men enough time to destroy any of them, although several now bore the marks of savage blows to their wooden walls.
‘Not for her. You did it because you wanted to.’
It was an ugly truth, Edward knew, but a truth nonetheless. He’d heard tales of abuse before, from the Roma boys he had played with as a child, when their easy laughter and unselfconscious warmth had seemed poles apart from the stiff propriety of playmates in his own class and their welcome of him had left a permanent impression of their decency.
There was no basis for this mistreatment—no justification at all. But folk inherited their intolerances from their fathers, as had their fathers before them, and prejudice was passed down through generations to rest in the hearts of men such as Harris and Milton—men with little power of their own, whose low social standing fanned the flames of their desire to find someone, anyone, they perceived to be worth less than themselves to bear the brunt of their frustrations.
He surveyed the men surrounding him, taking in their various attempts at contrite expressions,