The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins
Chapter One
Miss Dinah Mulgrave liked many things about London; there were carriage rides and elegant ballrooms, there were ices at Gunter’s and ever so many dresses and hats to be bought. But, without question, the best thing about London was . . .
The men.
Tall with dark hair, fair with beguiling blue eyes, always well-togged, filling out their jackets most becomingly. If Dinah wasn’t fully aware that her time in London was rapidly coming to a close, she would be most tempted to remain unattached for no fewer than three years so that she might enjoy all the Season had to offer many times over.
Such was not an option, however, and she knew it.
Unfortunately, and unbeknownst to her family, catching a handsome husband was not the only thing Dinah had on her mind these days.
It was that other thing that had brought her out of doors this evening. Any other day, Father would have insisted they be sitting down to dinner about now. No matter his new status as a knight and that they currently resided in London, Father hated eating after the sun went down. Some habits were just too ingrained, Dinah supposed. However, with guests coming tonight—again—dinner would not be served for a few more hours. If she hurried, she would be back in time. She had no desire to worry her family, as they most certainly would worry if they found her missing.
Dinah glanced back at the house Father was letting for the Season. Though far superior to their usual home two days’ ride from here, it was quite simple in comparison to where most people stayed in Town. But it suited Dinah quite fine. After all, she needed to keep what little anonymity she had left. It made her job much easier.
Lifting her skirt, Dinah turned and hurried down the street. There weren’t many people about, and if any of them did glance her way, hopefully they’d assume the petite girl attired in a bland dress who’d exited the house from the servants’ door could not be anyone more noteworthy than a maid.
The day was hot, and soon, beads of sweat caused the back of Dinah’s dress to stick to her most uncomfortably. Mr. Harding had said there would be transport waiting for her at the end of the street. Perhaps she would be cooler once inside and in the shade? Probably not. Shade did not protect one from the muggy humidity.
As promised, a simple farmer’s cart awaited her at the corner. No shade for her then; ah well, it wasn’t important anyway. A man with leathery skin and a wide-brimmed hat sat in the driver’s seat. He seemed to be waiting for someone. She hoped he was waiting for her. She’d know soon enough.
“Good day to you,” she called up, shoving aside every lesson Lady Charlotte Blackmore had taught her about refining her speech and sounding as much like a maid as she could.
The man made no attempt to hide his roving eyes, even as he grunted in return.
Either this was the right man, or she was very possibly making a monumental mistake.
Not that this would be the first.
If there was one thing Dinah prided herself on, it was getting out of scrapes. Part of the reason she was so good at it was that she’d had a lot of practice.
“It’s frightfully hot today,” she pressed on, watching his expression closely while also trying to appear unaffected.
Something shifted in his eyes. Was that recognition of the prearranged phrase? Or simply surprise that she, a stranger, was continuing a conversation with him?
“I know a farmer’s field not far from here where the trees keep it a might bit cooler.”
That was the phrase she’d been hoping to hear. Dinah’s stomach relaxed a bit. “Do the sparrows sing when the sun sets?”
His own expression eased even as he scooted over on the bench. “That they do. Climb up,” he said, finishing the prearranged sentences, “and I’ll show you the spot.”
Dinah easily pulled herself up and settled herself on the bench beside the man. He smelled strongly of body odor and tobacco. But Mr. Harding had said the man would take her to and from the job, and Mr. Harding, one of England’s most respected Bow Street Runners, had never steered her wrong before. They rode in silence, leaving the bustling streets of London and moving quickly toward open fields.
Once they reached an empty road, the man finally spoke once more. “When Mr. Harding said I would be driving a woman, I expected someone not so . . .”
“Beautiful?” Dinah asked, batting her eyes.
The man only scowled. “I was gonna say young. Does your family know what you’re about?”
“Oh gracious, no,” Dinah said, still cheerful. With any luck, if she stayed positive, some of that would rub off on him. “But Mr. Harding doesn’t have me doing anything overly dangerous tonight, so you needn’t worry.”
“You’d best be right.” He called to the horses, angling the cart down a small dirt road to their left before turning back to her. “Let’s get one thing clear. I’m not here for some stupid ideal. I’m getting paid, and that’s all. You’re pretty and seem sweet enough, but not you nor nothing else is worth my life. I’ll take you where you need to go, and if all goes well, I’ll see you back home. But if there’s any trouble—any yelling or shooting—I’m gone and you’re on your own. Got it?”
A foreboding settled into Dinah’s chest, cold and uncertain. “Very well. I understand.”
“And you’re still wanting to go?”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Do you know what’s at stake tonight?”
He shifted a bit under her gaze. “No, and I don’t want to.”
“A little girl’s life.”
“I said I don’t wanna know.” He urged the horses forward.
“She was taken from her home two nights ago when she accidentally stumbled upon a few smugglers crossing her father’s property. A little girl no older than seven.”
“I’m not listening.”
She didn’t care if he didn’t want to know. He may call her idealism stupid or crazy, but his preference to stay ignorant was worse, in her mind. “That little girl has seen the faces of many dangerous men now. Do you really think once they escape into the country, they’re just going to let her go? Even if they did, how would she ever find her way back home?”
He set his jaw. “And what are you gonna do about it?”
“I’m going to help her escape.” Dinah spoke the words as an unwavering declaration. She’d helped the Bow Street Runners several times since coming to London earlier this year. Normally, it was nothing more than ballroom jobs—listening in on the right conversations, flirting with certain men until they slipped up and said something important. It was safe, even if it did mean she needed to be around rakes and jackanapes most of the time.
Which was, as it turned out, a situation her family neither approved of nor understood. But she was under very strict orders from Mr. Harding not to explain to anyone. So she didn’t.
The man made another turn left, then pulled the cart off the road completely and stopped beneath a large oak. “They’re camped fifty paces that way.” He pointed past her.
Dinah gave him a decisive nod and climbed down from the cart. She focused her gaze in the direction the man had pointed and started forward.
“Just remember what I told you,” he called after her. “If there be any problems at all, don’t bother coming back for me. I won’t be hanging around.”
She didn’t grace him with a reply or even a glance back. She simply pressed on farther across the field. Dinah would have much rather waited until night, but Mr. Harding had disagreed. This particular group of men often traveled at night. Moreover, after Mr. Harding’s failed attempt at rescuing the little girl last night, he didn’t want to wait and miss what might be their last opportunity today.
The yellow grass and wildflowers grew tall here. Though there were few trees, it wasn’t hard to see how a group of smugglers could remain hidden among such tall overgrowth. Dinah slowed her step the farther from the cart she walked. She wouldn’t be doing the little girl any favors if she were heard and caught herself.
The plan was simple, according to Mr. Harding. Who, admittedly, had already failed once at rescuing the little girl. But, he had been quick to explain, that was simply because the little girl had been too terrified to trust a strange man. Mr. Harding was confident the little girl would trust a woman, stranger or no. All Dinah needed to do was slip up close to the group unnoticed, get the little girl’s attention, beckon the child to her, pray she had enough courage to make a run for it, and off they’d disappear into the tall grass.
It seemed far too simple for Dinah. But when she pressed, Mr. Harding had admitted he had a man on the inside. Someone who’d been working as a smuggler for many months now. He’d only given her the man’s cover name: Crow. Dinah wasn’t exactly sure what it said about the man that he’d been given the name Crow, but it didn’t sound overly friendly or congenial. Regardless, Crow had been the first one to tell Mr. Harding about the little girl. He’d also said that the group of men often ignored her since she’d been scared into submission from the first. Mr. Harding seemed convinced Dinah would get quite far, possibly even back to the cart, before anyone was the wiser.
If the cart was even still there.
Rough grass scraped against her sleeves as Dinah pressed onward. She’d been happy when Mr. Harding had first offered her a job that wasn’t flirting, but now she wasn’t so sure. She’d never been trained for something like this, and she’d hardly had any time to prepare. But if they didn’t try something tonight, the little girl would be moved—possibly killed—and there wouldn’t be another chance at saving her.
The deep sound of male voices reached her, and Dinah slowed her step. Bending over, she kept her head below the tallest blades of grass. Slowly, she peeled away layers of grass in front of her and moved steadily forward. The voices grew louder. Dinah moved as close as she dared and then sat back on her heels. Several men were clustered together not far from her. It appeared they had trampled down a small section of grass where they might rest comfortably while still being hidden from anyone more than four meters away. Two of the men were sitting, talking in soft voices—the voices she’d followed. The rest, probably another five in total, were lying on the trampled grass, eyes shut. If they frequently traveled at night, it made sense they’d have to sleep during the day.
Dinah slipped up a half-foot closer. Where was the little girl? She prayed nothing had happened to her between last night and now. Dinah leaned far to her right, carefully looking over the group of men from between the many blades of grass surrounding her.
There. The little girl was sitting as far away from the men as she could manage while still being within the circle. She was awake—that was a blessing—and sitting up, her eyes darting about her every which way. Dinah slipped up closer to the little girl. If she reached out and touched her arm, the child would most likely scream. Instead, Dinah moved up close and whispered softly.
“Hello,” she said as quietly as she could manage.
The little girl’s head whirled around.
Dinah pressed a finger to her lips, telling her to stay silent. The little girl didn’t nod or respond but simply stared at her with wide eyes. Now that she wasn’t worried the little girl would scream at her nearness, Dinah moved closer.
“Wait until they aren’t looking, then slip into the grass. I’ll get you out of here.”
This time, the little girl nodded. Her gaze moved back to the men. One of the two said something, and the other tipped his head back and laughed.
“Now,” Dinah said.
The little girl shot backward and into the grass. Dinah wrapped an arm around her and together they started making their way toward the road and the waiting cart. With any luck, the men would continue laughing for some time and not hear or notice the little girl’s departure.
Dinah and the little girl made it three meters, then five, then ten. Dinah’s stomach eased; this was going to work. They were going to make it back to the cart before anyone noticed—
A loud call echoed about the field.
Drat.
Dinah pulled the little girl forward. “Run,” she whisper-yelled.
Together, they hurried through the grass, but it was still slow going. While the grass did a fine job of hiding a person, it was also very hard to run through.
A gunshot sounded over their heads. Dinah cupped an arm more protectively around the little girl, but she didn’t allow either of them to slow.
They reached the tree just in time to see the cart disappearing down the road.
“Hang that man,” Dinah hissed.
A gun cocked directly behind Dinah. Slowly, she turned. One of the two men who had been awake in the circle stood close enough that she could see the pockmarks on his face and note his three missing teeth.
“What have we here?” He grinned even while resting the butt of his rifle against his shoulder. “Looks like the little mouse has attracted a cat.”
Another man, one who must have been sleeping before, hurried over, his rifle also raised. “Stop standing about and get them back to camp,” he said without so much as a glance Dinah’s way. His voice was lower than the pock-faced man. His hair was black and hung well over his ears. Several days’ worth of stubble covered his jaw, doing nothing to hide the sharpness of the angle. “Stand out here any longer and someone’s liable to drive by and see you.”
“Come on, then,” Pock-Face said to Dinah and the little girl, motioning with his gun for them to return.
With one arm around the little girl’s shoulders and the other holding her hand, they moved back through the grass yet again. If Dinah never saw grass this tall again, it would be too soon.
Not bothering to hide or be quiet, they reached the small circle of trampled grass quickly. As the other men joined them, Dinah endured more jeering and whistles than she had ever heard in her life. Heat pricked painfully against her cheeks, but she refused to drop her chin or return any of their gazes. Instead, she kept her eyes ahead and walked the little girl over to the very same spot she’d been sitting before.
“Sit down,” the man with dark hair and stubble instructed them, his voice distinctly lacking the enthusiasm all the other men seemed to exude at her presence.
Dinah helped the little girl down and then lowered herself to the grass-covered ground. She tucked her legs beneath her, seeing to it that her skirt kept her ankles covered. It was a little thing, but she wasn’t about to let these men believe they had her cowed. Indeed, she was not one who gave in to fear. The whistles and roving eyes could last all night; she would not squirm.
“Settle down,” the dark-haired man said, his voice firm.
For the most part, the men did, but that didn’t mean they stopped staring at Dinah. She turned her mind away from them. She would be better off figuring out her best option for escape. Being caught was not something Mr. Harding had taught her how to deal with. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so willing to accept this job. Then again—her gaze fell to the little girl clutching tightly to her arm—if she hadn’t, she would have always hated herself for not at least trying. Even now, she couldn’t find it in herself to regret her choice.
She only regretted not having come here with a better plan.
Her eyes moved around the circle. The men were settling down. Most were even returning to sleep. Three sat chatting off to Dinah’s left, Pock-Face among them. Their frequent gazes her way and snickers meant they were undoubtedly talking about her. To her right sat the dark-haired man. As she turned his way, their eyes met.
His gaze was as dark as his hair. Though his skin was fair, it was the only thing about him that wasn’t black. His clothes, his hair, his eyes, his gun resting atop his lap, all of it was completely black. His eyes held hers, as though he were daring her to look away first. While all the other men had jeered at her with leering smiles and rough laughter, this man stared at her with open animosity. She couldn’t imagine why. She was no threat to him, had in no way attacked or injured him. And yet, his expression was one of complete hatred, as black as the rest of him.
Dinah could stand it no longer, and she looked away. The moment she did, out of the corner of her eye, she saw his gaze drop as well. He pulled out a bit of fabric—black fabric—and began cleaning his gun. Dinah tried to suppress the shudder that threatened to visibly shake her. There was much she needed to figure out and very little time in which to do it. But one thing was already clear—he was one man she should stay far away from.