Her Devious Scoundrel

Chapter 13

It was well after noon by the time Johnathan re-entered the tiny room, he had gone with the riders back to the carriage to pick up their things, as well as his men. It had taken quite a bit longer than it should have. By the time they reached the carriage, it had been several hours, and he had not expected the scene he found upon arrival.

Black smoke billowed out from the over turned carriage, flames licking over the top. Johnathan had rushed forwards, calling out to his men. A faint groaning sound came from the bushes nearby. He made his way towards the sound, pulling out his pistol.

“Who goes there?” He shouted, holding his weapon at the ready.

“M-My L-Lord?” A stuttering whisper came, barely heard over the crackling of flames. Johnathan moved forward, as he did, he spotted sandy brown curls, crusted with blood.

“Jaime?” He gasped, “Jaime, what happened? Are you alright?” Johnathan rushed forward, picking his man up and carrying, half dragging him to the road, away from the acrid smoke.

“Highway men, My Lord” Jaime gasped, “Brighton… He tried to fight them off, but… he.. he didn’t make it.” Jaime’s voice faltered, his breath coming in short harsh gasps.

Johnathan rubbed a hand over his eyes, and scanned the room before him. At first glance it appeared empty, but a slight movement by the bed, showed Penelope’s small form curled under the blanket, sleeping peacefully. He walked quietly to the water basin and stripped off his clothes, rapidly scrubbing the soot from his body. He blinked back tears, as he scrubbed his arms raw.

Two men! Two good men, he had lost that day. Both Jaime and Brighton had been in his family’s employ practically their whole lives. Jaime’s father had worked for his father, and the boys had played together as children, before Johnathan had been shipped to Eton. He was a close friend, and Brighton had been like a loving uncle, even a father figure after his had passed.

Johnathan sat in a chair by the fire, guilt riding him. If he hadn’t have left them there, if he had been more careful! His body shook as sobs racked him. These two men had families, wives who loved them. What was he going to tell them, how could he face them?

“My. Francis?” Penelope inquired softly, “Um, Jonathan?” She said louder and more forceful. Johnathan looked up, his eyes rimmed red. Penelope stood before him, her eyes questioning, concern written over her face.

“I am sorry for waking you.”

“What is wrong? Has something horrible happened?”

“I went back to the carriage, all of our things are gone, my men… dead.” His voice faltered.

“Oh goodness.” Penelope paused, placing her hand on his shoulder. She squatted down in front of him, her eyes searching. She had never expected to wake to this man, clearly in the throes of grief. She pressed her hands to the sided of his face, pulling him closer for comfort,

As Johnathan buried his face in her hair, he felt himself begin to relax. She stood and led him to the bed, helping him with his boots before covering him and ringing for the maid. He watched he blankly as she spoke quietly with the maid and set about tidying up the table. When the maid returned she brought with her several hunks of bread, chunks of cheese, grapes and wine. Another maid brought a tray with bowls full of steaming beef stew and mugs with a pitcher. They placed the trays on the table, curtsied and made their way from the room.

Penelope followed them out, only to return a few moments later. She walked to the wash basin, puling what few pins remained out of her hair and began to wash herself. Darkness had fallen, and the soft candlelight reflected blue of her raven colored hair. Johnathan watched mesmerized by her movements. She took a cloth and delicately washed her skin where the dress she wore did not cover. Johnathan sat up, uncomfortable watching her, aware she thought he was asleep.

“Oh” She gasped startled, “I thought you had fallen asleep. Are you feeling any better? Are you hungry? I ordered food...” She rambled, trailing off.

“Err, yes thank you.” He mumbled as he padded over to the table. Penelope sat opposite him, her eyes searching his face. “What?” He grumbled.

“Are you okay?” She questioned, “Do you want to talk? You were really upset earlier.”

“No, I-I am fine”

“You were very close to your men, weren’t you?”

“Yes.” He stated simply.

“Have you employed them long?”

“Brighton has been with my family since before I was born, Jaime and I grew up together, play fighting in the gardens and pulling tricks on the staff.”

“I see… I am sorry for your loss then.” Penelope stated quietly. They ate in silence then, Johnathan not wanting to talk of his friends and Penelope not quite knowing what to say. The silence was almost deafening, only the clunk of mug hitting the table or the clatter of dishes being moved. Several times, Penelope looked up, opening her mouth to speak, only to close it again after regarding Johnathan’s closed expression.