Nev reached into his pocket. His fist closed around his pocketknife. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Penelope was lost, and close behind her she could hear Sir Jasper crashing through the woods. She was winded, and weak from having barely eaten in two days. Any second now Sir Jasper would emerge from a stand of trees and find her a pathetically easy target, and she had no idea which direction led toward Loweston and safety.
Perhaps running wasn’t the answer. She slipped behind a tree and prayed Sir Jasper would pass her by.
His footsteps came nearer and nearer. She held her breath and pressed herself against the tree until she could feel the knots digging into her back through her stays. She could hear him going past. Now if she could just inch her way round to the other side of the tree so he wouldn’t see her if he glanced behind him…
He was nearly past when a slight breeze set her skirts billowing. She snatched them back; Sir Jasper had stopped moving. She held herself poised for flight-
An arm snaked round the tree and grabbed hold of her, and she screamed so loudly she would have been embarrassed if she weren’t occupied in trying to get free. Thrashing wildly, she hurled herself backward so that his hand smashed into the rough bark of the tree. His grasp loosened, and she threw herself into headlong flight. He was close behind her-she could hear him. Afraid to look back, she put on a last burst of speed, and something came into abrupt focus ahead of her.
She skidded to a halt, her stomach an inch from a tripwire. She backed up a step, turned, and saw another to her right. The two wires came together at a tree a foot away, and at their junction a gun was mounted on a swivel. She turned. Sir Jasper stood about five feet away, watching her.
“If you come near me-” She coughed; her throat had gone dry. Swallowing, she tried again. “If you come near me, I’m sure I can contrive to get us both shot.”
“I’m afraid I shall have to risk it,” Sir Jasper said with the wry smile she had once, briefly, thought charming. “I seem to have used up my ammunition.”
“That wasn’t very well-planned.”
His mouth twisted irritably. “Perhaps not. But I shall enjoy strangling you.”
He advanced on her. Penelope was preparing to dodge when she heard a noise to her left. She cut her eyes that way, and the absurdly loud pounding of her heart seemed to double in volume.
It was Nev, edging toward them, about thirty feet away.
Any second now Sir Jasper would hear him too, and the element of surprise would be lost.
Without conscious thought, Penelope began to cry. It was surprisingly easy. Years of crying silently with her face pressed into her pillow seemed to melt away; she sobbed and heaved and made horrible gasping noises. “Please! Sir Jasper, please, I’ll do anything!”
Amazingly, he stopped. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it!” It took all her willpower not to look toward Nev. She couldn’t hear his footfalls over the noise of her own tears.
“You’ve got snot dripping down your chin,” Sir Jasper said. “You’re a disgusting little thing, aren’t you?”
Even at that moment, it stung. She must look horrendous.
He took a step closer and repeated, louder, “Aren’t you?”
“Yes!” She wiped at her nose with her sleeve. “Yes, I am. I know I am, but please-”
“Please what?” Sir Jasper was enjoying himself now. “Please don’t snuff out your pathetic, vulgar little life? You ought to be thanking me for putting you out of your misery. If Bedlow’s tired of you already, just think how he’s going to feel when you’re six months gone and fat as a sow.”
Through her sobs, Penelope heard a twig crack. Sir Jasper blinked, and Penelope screeched like a fishwife, “ Nev isn’t tired of me!” A triumphant smile spread across Sir Jasper’s face, and Penelope hated him, just hated him. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and glared.
“Oh, isn’t he?” he said. “You’re crazy about him, aren’t you?”
The sobs froze in Penelope’s throat. She stared at Sir Jasper, at Sir Jasper’s horrible smile, and could not think, could not speak, could not make a sound. Sir Jasper’s eyes flickered again, as if he were going to look away, and Penelope heard herself say loudly, her voice choked with tears and nearly unrecognizable, “Yes! Yes! I’m crazy about him! Are you happy now?”
“And how do you suppose he feels about you?” Sir Jasper asked.
Nev rolled under the tripwire and came up in a crouch, his knife out. “He feels pretty much the same.” He lunged at Sir Jasper.
Within a very few moments, Penelope had more sympathy with Gothic heroines than she ever had before. There simply did not appear to be anything she could do to help Nev, or even anything she could do that wouldn’t actively hinder him. So she stood like a particularly useless stone and watched as he and Sir Jasper lunged and feinted and were very, very careful not to step too far to the left or right, because the tripwires were close.
The one good thing was that Nev knew what he was doing. He was swift and focused, and Penelope saw quickly that he had the advantage over Sir Jasper in skill, speed, and condition. The problem was the enclosed space, and that his only weapon was a short pocketknife. Sir Jasper was soon bruised and bleeding from a dozen small cuts, but it was clear that Nev did not dare close with him for fear of toppling them all into a wire. He tried to drive Sir Jasper back, away from the deadly corner and Penelope, but Sir Jasper was no fool and refused to give ground.
But, Penelope realized, Nev did not seem desperate. He fought steadily and calmly, as if he did not have to win.
Then she thought she heard another rustle in the trees, and Nev tensed, ever so slightly.
Nev was waiting. Nev thought help was on the way.
Penelope remembered the Gothic heroine’s weapon. She began to scream, as loudly as she could. Surely they would hear. Surely they would come. Her throat hurt and Nev was beginning to sweat, and she could not tell how near help might be because her screams drowned out their noise. But if she could not tell, then Sir Jasper couldn’t either, and that was something.
“Tell your wife to shut the hell up!” Sir Jasper snarled, looking decidedly wild. On Nev ’s next lunge, Sir Jasper seized his wrist. Nev twisted easily out of his grasp, but somehow Sir Jasper used their contact to swing them round so he was between Nev and Penelope.
Nev’s eyes widened, but whether he was looking at her or at something behind her, Penelope could not say; she saw him come to some sort of decision.
Nev charged forward, and Sir Jasper clocked him in the face. Nev fell like a stone.
The screams died in Penelope’s throat. In the abrupt silence, she heard a rustle directly behind her, and thought she understood. Nev wasn’t unconscious. He was making Sir Jasper a clear target.
Sir Jasper made to kneel beside Nev, and Penelope said past the pain and soreness in her throat, “I’ll kill you if you touch him.” Where was the help? Why weren’t they shooting? Had she been wrong? Any second now Sir Jasper would kneel down and put his hands around Nev ’s throat. She began to count to three; if nothing had happened by then, surely she could run into Sir Jasper hard enough to knock the two of them into a tripwire. If she could twist them round so he was toward the tree, she might not even be hurt.
One.
Two.
There was a deafening noise and a flash of red, and Sir Jasper slumped to the ground on top of Nev.
Penelope’s knees buckled, but she pushed herself forward in time to land on the ground at Nev ’s side instead of falling into the tripwires.
Nev opened his eyes and looked at her. There were leaves in his hair and Sir Jasper’s blood was spattered across his face, and his smile was as sweet as ever. “I think I have a handkerchief in my pocket,” he said. He sounded absolutely all right, but when Penelope gingerly reached a hand under Sir Jasper’s shoulder to pull it out, her fingers came away wet with the baronet’s blood.