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‘And that was why you were sent away in disgrace? You must have known pretty early on that you were pregnant.’
It wasn’t a subject Thomas was well schooled in, but he did have a vague idea that most women weren’t sure until they were about three or four months along in their pregnancy.
‘I knew as soon as I missed my courses, by that time I was only about a month gone. I spoke to the father a week later, confessed to my mother the same evening and the next day I was packed off to Italy.’
That explained the timings a little more.
‘What if you were wrong?’
Rosa shrugged. ‘I suppose my mother thought it easier to recall me if it turned out I wasn’t pregnant than to explain an ever-growing bump.’
Thomas detected a note of bitterness alongside the sadness and wondered if the relationship between mother and daughter was a little strained.
‘It took five weeks by boat, a couple more overland, and then the Di Mercurios kept me locked away for a month. That makes four months.’ She said it in a matter-of-fact voice that belied the pain on her face.
‘What about the father?’ Thomas asked, wondering if that was who she was running home to.
Rosa gave a bitter, short bark of a laugh and shook her head instead of answering.
‘What do you plan to do, Rosa?’ he asked, aware that this game of theirs had become very serious very quickly.
‘Stop the horses,’ Rosa said sharply.
Thomas glanced at her in puzzlement.
‘Stop. The. Horses.’
He pulled on the reins, slowing the horses down to a gentle walk before coming to a complete stop. As soon as the curricle had stopped moving Rosa slid down, grabbed her cane and began to limp away. Thomas frowned, wondering exactly what it was about his question that had caused so much offence.
‘Rosa,’ he called, jumping down after her and jogging to catch up.
‘Leave me alone.’
Thomas realised she was crying and slowed as he approached her.
‘I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you.’
She shook her head, turning her back to him.
He stood undecided for a moment, unsure whether to step back and give her space or take her into his arms and comfort her.
‘Shh...’ he whispered as he wrapped her in his arms and gently pulled her head to rest on his shoulder.
He felt the sobs rack her body, her shoulders heaving as the tears ran down her cheeks and soaked through his shirt.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.
Thomas didn’t reply, instead tightening his hold on her, running a hand over her raven-black hair and murmuring soothing noises.
‘Come back to the curricle,’ he said as her sobs died down.
‘I don’t know—’ she started to say, but Thomas interrupted her with a shake of his head.
‘I’m not a man who is used to having his requests refused,’ he said in an overly serious tone and felt supremely satisfied when Rosa broke into a smile. It was small and uncertain, but a smile all the same.
Giving her his arm to lean upon, Thomas led her back, placed his arms around her waist and lifted her easily back into the seat.
‘No running off whilst I climb up.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rosa said as he took his place beside her. ‘I never cry.’
‘Half a day in my company and already you’re breaking habits of a lifetime.’
‘It’s just so frustrating, so completely unfair. Every person who has found out about my predicament has expected me to give my child up. To be thankful for the suggestion that a nice family could raise my baby and no one will ever know.’
The thought had crossed his mind, and although that hadn’t been the question he’d asked, it had been the answer he’d been expecting.
‘So what are you going to do?’
Rosa took a deep breath, raised her chin and straightened her back. ‘I will raise my child myself.’
It was an admirable idea, but not an easy one to fulfil.
As soon as the words had passed her lips Rosa deflated again, her chin dropping closer to her chest and her eyes focused on the ground beneath them as if searching for answers there.
Thomas thought of all the arguments against her plans, thought of all the struggles she would face raising a child alone. It wasn’t so much her practical ability to care for and love a child he doubted, or the fact that she would be raising it without a father—many women raised large families after they were widowed. No, the struggle for Rosa would be how she would be shunned and hounded from society. Right now she might not think she cared about other ladies gossiping and pointing, snubbing her in the street and not inviting her to any of the social events of the year, but Thomas knew too well how lonely solitude could be. It would be a miserable existence.
‘I know,’ Rosa said softly. ‘You don’t have to tell me how difficult it will be. I will be an outcast, even my child might be an outcast, but I believe that love can make up for all of that. And I will love this baby much more than any family paid to take him or her.’
He nodded mutely. Who was he to disagree with her, his choices hadn’t exactly been well thought out or well reasoned these past few years. After his father’s and brother’s deaths he’d more or less fled the country. He’d been halfway to France before he’d even stopped and thought about his decisions. If Rosa wanted to return to England to find a way to raise her child, then he had no business judging her.
* * *
Rosa wondered if he was judging her and then realised she didn’t much care. It was true, she had thought of all the drawbacks to raising her child herself, but every single negative point was outweighed by the overwhelming love she already felt for the small life inside her.
‘Do you think you’ll ever go back?’ Rosa asked, trying to change the focus of their conversation back to Lord Hunter.
‘To England?’ For a few moments he looked off into the distance as if he were deep in thought. ‘I have a mother,’ he said eventually.
Rosa laughed, she couldn’t help herself. ‘We all have mothers.’
Hunter sighed. ‘Mine is particularly loving and understanding.’
‘How awful for you,’ Rosa murmured, thinking of her own mother’s parting words to her. They had not been kind.
‘She’s lonely, rattling round in our big old house, and she’s asked me to go home.’
‘Will you?’
‘She hasn’t asked a single thing of me since...’ He paused for a moment. ‘Since I left England.’
‘You might find you enjoy being back home, surrounded by the people who know and love you.’
Hunter grimaced, as if the idea was completely unpalatable. Rosa wondered if there was something else that made him reluctant to go home. All his talk of restlessness, of wanting to see the world and discover new places, was all very well, but she was astute enough to know it was a pile of lies. Hunter might feel all of that, but it wasn’t the reason he was so unsettled, so reluctant to return home, Rosa could see it in his eyes. Something much bigger was keeping him away.
She was just settling back on to the seat of the curricle, making herself comfortable for the rest of the journey ahead when a movement to the side of the road caught her eye. She leaned forward, peering into the undergrowth to see whether it was some sort of animal or a person loitering where they shouldn’t be.
‘Alt!’ a man shouted in Italian as he jumped from the bushes in front of the curricle. Halt.
Hunter didn’t have many options. It was either rein in the horses or trample the tattily dressed young man.
Rosa felt her heart begin to pound in her chest and she had to keep her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. She didn’t recognise the man standing in front of the restless horses, but he must be there for her. In her month-long imprisonment in the Di Mercurios’ villa she hadn’t laid eyes on this man, but she had learnt that the Di Mercurio family was vast and the number of young men she could call cousin reached well into double figures. This must surely be some relation come to take her back.
Just as Rosa was about to grab hold of the reins and urge the horses forward she saw the pistol in the man’s hand and paused for a second. Not because of the gun, not really. Of course the man could aim and fire and hit one of them, but hitting a moving target was difficult and she reckoned they had a good chance of getting away without injury to either of them. Rosa paused because of the strip of fabric covering the lower half of the man’s face, as if he didn’t want to be recognised.
‘Don’t move or I will shoot the lady,’ another voice came from behind the curricle.
Rosa spun round and saw three more men similarly attired.
She glanced at Hunter, saw the expressions of irritation and disbelief flit over his face before it settled back to a stony, unreadable façade.
‘Sorry, gentlemen, I don’t speak Italian,’ Hunter said, in an exaggerated, loud voice. ‘English.’
Rosa frowned. She knew he spoke Italian, or at least she thought he did. She opened her mouth to translate for him and got a sharp dig in the ribs from his elbow. Quickly she closed her mouth again and moved a little closer to Hunter. She wasn’t going to succeed in escaping from the Di Mercurios only to be killed by bandits on a dusty Italian road.
‘Denaro!’ the chief bandit shouted, then slowly, working his mouth around the unfamiliar word, ‘Money!’
The three bandits from behind the curricle edged closer.
‘I’m afraid I don’t carry much with me,’ Hunter said a little too flippantly for Rosa’s liking. They were being threatened by four men with pistols and swords and here he was pretending not to understand them and refusing to hand anything over.
‘Money,’ the chief bandit demanded again.
A squat, swarthy man with the complexion similar to that of a toad jabbed Rosa lightly with the tip of his sword and leered at her, giving her a perfect view of his three remaining teeth, all black and rotten in his lower jaw.
Rosa fought the nausea that rose up from her stomach, desperately trying to suppress the gag that threatened to escape from her throat. Although she reasoned vomiting over a bandit might not be a bad way to get him to leave you alone.
‘Money,’ the toad man repeated, his accent thick and his eyes roaming over Rosa’s body.
She felt Hunter shift in his seat beside her and wondered if he was reaching for his coin purse. Thinking of the small amount of money she’d been able to keep safe throughout the journey to Italy and her subsequent imprisonment, Rosa felt her fear melting away and a white-hot fury consuming her instead. They had no right to steal her money, no right to ruin her plans for the future.
Leaning forward, Rosa made to stand and give these bandits a piece of her mind when she felt a restraining hand on her arm.
‘Sit down,’ Hunter said calmly, as if he were talking about the weather at a garden party. ‘Or you’ll get us both killed.’
‘At least I’m trying to do something,’ Rosa hissed.
‘Something reckless and stupid.’
‘They will not get my money.’
‘Is that small purse of yours worth your life?’
Rosa hesitated. He didn’t understand. That small purse was her life. Without it she wouldn’t have a way to fund her passage back to England. She wouldn’t even have a way to feed herself. She’d be forced back to the Di Mercurios, forced to throw herself on their mercy. No doubt she would be locked away for another five months and once she’d given birth they would take her child away from her.
Rosa was saved from having to answer by the toad man grabbing her by the waist and squeezing in a lascivious manner. With a squeal of outrage, she thumped him on the head and was just steadying herself to throw another punch when there was a flurry of movement beside her.
Hunter leapt from his seat, barrelled into one of the bandits, sending him crashing into the second man. Whilst the two criminals struggled to disengage from one another Hunter softly grabbed both their flailing pistols and fired a shot towards the chief bandit, making him dive back into the bushes.
Rosa watched in disbelief as Hunter sprinted after the man, leaping through the air as he reached the undergrowth and throwing a punch that sounded as though it hit its mark. There was a distinct crunch of bone and a yelp of pain, followed by a few moments’ silence. Eventually Hunter hauled himself up out of the undergrowth with a casual grin.
The two men he’d disarmed moments ago glanced at one another, then rushed towards him and Rosa heard herself gasp as Hunter sank to the floor and kicked out with a foot just as they reached him. Both men tripped, sprawling to the ground with shouts of pain. Quickly he aimed both pistols and fired a shot from each towards the bandits’ heads.
Rosa squeezed her eyes shut, not wanting to see the explosion of blood and brains from the two bandits, but as she pressed her lids together she heard a low whimpering. Cautiously she peeked and saw a spasm of movement from the ground. For a moment she wondered if Hunter had missed from such a short range, but then realised he’d aimed a few inches above the men’s heads.
‘Run,’ Hunter ordered. ‘Now.’
Rosa watched as the two bandits wobbled to their feet and ran, not sparing a backwards glance for their compatriot left behind.
As Hunter turned slowly Rosa could feel her pulse beating in her throat, a warm, rhythmic reminder of how alive she felt right now. He strolled nonchalantly back towards the curricle, as if he was out for an evening walk and hadn’t just single-handedly bested three armed bandits. In the mid-morning sun his blue eyes sparkled and Rosa had the sense he was enjoying himself.
Beside her the toad man hesitated, looking over his shoulder as if checking for possible escape routes.
‘Run,’ Hunter repeated, his voice low and dangerous.
For a moment Rosa thought the toad man would obey, but she saw the flash of defiance in his eyes just a second before he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her body tightly against his. She felt the cool metal of the pistol against her neck and knew this scared man holding her captive was very dangerous. He had been abandoned by his comrades and could see no way out. One false move and he would probably fire out of fear.
‘There’s no need for that,’ Hunter said, keeping his tone soothing. ‘Let the lady go and you have nothing to fear from me.’
Everyone present knew Lord Hunter was lying. He’d taken three men out without even breaking a sweat in the mid-morning sun, Rosa couldn’t see a situation that worked out well for the toad man.
She felt the tremor of the bandit’s hands, sensed his uncertainty as he shifted from one foot to the other.
‘What’s your name?’ Hunter asked in flawless Italian.
‘Er-Er-Ernesto,’ the bandit stuttered.
‘Well, Ernesto, why don’t we make a deal? You let go of my friend here and I will let you walk away.’
‘Walk away?’ Ernesto asked in surprise.
‘That’s right. You haven’t hurt either of us, haven’t taken anything. I see no reason you can’t just walk away from this.’
‘I’m not stupid,’ Ernesto said with a sneer. ‘You’ll kill me as soon as my back is turned.’
‘Like I killed your comrades?’
Ernesto the toad man hesitated.
