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Katherine smiled at him. ‘And I asked Jenny to slice the meat; I did not think I would be allowed in here with a carving knife.’ She began to heap meat on his plate—beef, ham and chicken—then spread butter on rolls and passed him two. ‘Go on, eat, and do not even think about the food you have been eating the past days.’

      The taste of good, simple food was like an explosion in his mouth. Nick tried not to wolf it down, not to gulp the wine Katherine kept pouring into his glass, but when he finally put down his knife and fork and reluctantly shook his head at her offer of another chicken leg, he feared he had exhibited little grace. She appeared unconcerned, however, sitting toying with a slice of chicken and some bread and butter. He caught her eye as she took a drink of wine and she smiled again. ‘Dutch courage,’ she admitted. ‘Would you like some cheese, or Jenny’s famous plum cake? Both together are good.’

      Nick held out his plate wordlessly. After this meal, in this company, he felt if he died in his sleep tonight he would be content. ‘Do you need it?’

      Her nose wrinkled in puzzlement. It was a new expression to add to those he was beginning to learn, and emphasised the cat-look even more. ‘Dutch courage,’ he explained.

      ‘Oh. Yes.’

      ‘I should not wonder after your first sight of me. It frightened me when I saw myself in a mirror. Am I so frightening now?’ Another woman would have prattled, or retreated into silence or rushed to reassure him. Katherine put her head on one side and contemplated him seriously.

      ‘How frightening do you think it is for a virgin to find herself alone in a bedroom with a husband she has known for perhaps two hours in all?’ She gestured to show it was a rhetorical question. ‘No, I was not frightened of you then and I am not frightened of you, as a person, now. You made me feel … safe.’

      This was not the time to preen himself because she had paid him a compliment. ‘But you are afraid of me as a man? I will not hurt you, I promise you.’

      Her answer was a little shake of the head and a rueful smile. ‘Of course. It is just foolish shyness. Now, what more would you like to eat? There is another bottle of wine.’

      They finished their meal and packed the hamper together, leaving the new bottle of wine to sip. Nicholas saw Katherine’s eyes keep straying to the bed, then jerking back. He was having increasing difficulty keeping his mind off it himself.

      ‘Tell me about yourself,’ he asked abruptly. ‘Where are your relatives that you find yourself in this coil?’

      ‘I have none. None except my brother.’ Her fingers were idly running up and down the stem of the wine glass in an unconsciously erotic glide. Nick crossed his legs and forced himself to concentrate. ‘Our parents died some years ago. We were not well off, but we had enough with careful management.

      ‘Unfortunately, Philip has a weakness for both drink and gambling and the money just leaks away. We had to let all the servants go but John and Jenny; they only stay with us out of loyalty. Then last year, while I was away, Philip sold the house and the furniture without telling me. I only found out the other day, at the same time that he revealed that he had tricked me into signing the papers for a loan of five thousand pounds.’

      ‘Hell’s teeth! The bloody fool.’ He did not apologise for his language and provoked a reluctant smile.

      ‘Yes indeed. I know he is my brother and the head of the family, but I have to confess to wishing I could say exactly the same thing. But you see why I had to take this way out of my difficulties? I honestly believe I had no other choice but this or debtor’s prison. Or to become a kept woman.’

      Nick shook his head. ‘No, no choice, and you should never have been put in that position. I had no idea from what he and his friend told me.’

      ‘Ah, well, it is no good crying over spilled milk. Tell me …’ she curled round in the chair ‘… what made you become a highwayman?’

      ‘Nothing.’ Nick made a sudden decision. He was not going to lie to her. ‘Nothing made me a highwayman. I am not Black Jack Standon. I was drugged, tricked and framed and the devil of it is, I have not the slightest iota of proof on my side.’

       Chapter Four

      Katherine looked deep into the dark eyes opposite and read anger, frustration and truth. She was not married to a highwayman, she was married to Nicholas Lydgate who was falsely accused and was due to be hanged in five days’ time. Fear ran through her, knotting her stomach.

      ‘What happened? Who did it?’

      ‘You believe me?’ He sounded incredulous, as though he had not expected this reaction.

      ‘Yes, of course.’

      ‘Why? Why should you believe me, Kat?’

      Katherine thought about it. ‘Instinct? I trusted you from the beginning, I am not sure why. I look into your eyes and I see the truth. I am used to living with a weak man, one who lies and twists. I believe I can recognise a strong and an honest one when I meet him.’

      Nick flushed, half-turned from her, running his hand over his face as though to smother some emotion her trust evoked. ‘Thank you for that.’

      ‘So what happened?’ she prompted.

      ‘I had just returned from France. I had been on the continent for some time and it was years since I had been in England. I went first to Aylesbury, hoping that an old friend was still there, but they told me he had moved away long ago. I decided to go to London, it seemed as good a place as any while I thought about what to do next.

      ‘Just outside Hemel Hempstead the road runs over an area of rough grazing beside the river, called Box Moor. It had been a filthy day—wet, driving rain and cold with it. It got dark early and I was trying to decide whether to push on to King’s Langley or turn off to Hemel Hempstead when I saw an inn ahead. Not much of a place, certainly not somewhere gentry frequent, and when I walked in I thought either they or I were drunk.’

      ‘Why?’ Katherine reached for the wine bottle and poured herself a glass without thinking. His voice was easy to listen to, strong yet well modulated. Nick removed the wine from her hand, topped up his own glass and put the bottle out of reach.

      ‘They recognised me. For a few seconds people turned as if to greet me, hands were raised, the landlord reached for a tankard and began to draw ale without being asked. A pretty barmaid ran over and gave me a kiss.’

      ‘But did they know you?’

      ‘No, of course not. The moment I stepped out of the shadows into the light of the bar it all changed. Shoulders were turned, men went back to their cards and their pipes. Even the barmaid flounced off.’

      ‘Then what happened?’ Katherine was so engaged with the story and the wine was so warm in her veins that she forgot her reticence at being alone with Nicholas. It felt like being alone with an old friend.

      ‘I asked for a room and stabling for my horse. The landlord was reluctant, surly even. If it had not been such a foul night, I would have walked out and found another lodging. I wish I had! But I persisted and eventually the girl showed me to a room. Not much of one, but it would do. I saw my horse settled and had a meal. The atmosphere was strange; they were uneasy, as though waiting for something, and people would slip out and come back in again.’

      ‘Um, the privy?’ Katherine suggested.

      ‘That is what I thought at the time. Then it all went very quiet. The barmaid brought me a beaker of rum. It was to help me sleep, she said, because it was such a rough night.’

      ‘You drank it and it was drugged?’

      ‘It was. I made my way upstairs, wondering why my legs were so weary, but I put it down to the long ride. I pulled off my clothes, I think. I can remember falling on the bed, then nothing

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