“So? If he ever does find out, we just say they were still alive when we left here. They must have got out somehow after we packed up.”
“That might work,” agreed Dex. “I’m with Con. Telling Burleigh they escaped will only get us in trouble, and it won’t make a bean’s worth of difference anyway.”
“What about you, Mal? Are you with the other two?”
Mal shrugged. “I guess.”
Tav was quiet for a long moment. He raised his eyes to the sky and seemed to contemplate the faint horsetail wisp of high cloud he saw drifting there. The silence became an oppressive force, and the Burley Men were already wincing with anticipated pain when Tav drew a deep breath, as if preparing himself to deal out desolation in heavy doses, and said, “That’s it, then: don’t breathe a word of this to the boss. If he finds out, we know nothing about it. Which isn’t far from the truth anyway.”
Just then a roar that resounded down the wadi walls announced that a very hungry cave cat had not yet been fed and was growing exceedingly peeved at the situation. “Con, see to Baby. It won’t do to have that creature scrapping at everyone along the way.”
“What about the generator?” wondered Mal. “What are we supposed to do with that?”
“I don’t care what you do with it. Just get rid of it. Wipe out any trace that we were ever here. Got it?”
When no one moved, Tav added, “What are you waiting for? Move!”
As if startled into life, the Burley Men jolted away, each hurrying off on his own separate errand. It was not the first time they had decamped at a moment’s notice, and it would not be the last.
“Where are we going?” called Dex, backing off a step at a time.
“Never you mind,” Tav answered. “We’re done here—that’s all you need to know.”
CHAPTER 10
In Which an Identity Is Mistaken
A fortnight of rain and indecent weather had left the horses lethargic and indifferent to the commands of the rider. What they wanted was a good fast chase across the downs to get their pure blood racing again and remind them what sort of creatures nature intended them to be. At least, that was Lady Fayth’s assessment—a view upheld by her father.
“Capital!” cried Lord Fayth when informed of his daughter’s wish to ride across the estate to the next village. “Tell her that I will accompany her. We will take tea on our return.”
“Of course, my lord,” replied Chalmers, Sir Edward’s butler. “Shall I notify the stables of His Lordship’s intentions?”
“No need. I shall do it myself. I will be going out as soon as I finish reviewing the accounts.”
“As you will, sir.”
After a light lunch of kippers and toast, Sir Edward went to the stables where Lady Fayth was checking the straps and harness on her mount. “Hello, my darling.” He bussed her cheek, then noticed the saddle. “I hope you are not thinking to ride with . . . that,” he said, distaste tugging down the edges of his mouth.
“Hello, Father,” she replied sweetly. “Why? Whatever do you mean?” She glanced around at the saddle. “Is there something wrong with the tack I have chosen?”
“In all honesty, Haven, if you insist on riding like a man, I do believe you deserve whatever fate befalls you.”
“The only thing likely to befall me today is a splash of mud on my new boots.” She lifted the hem of her dress and extended one shapely, booted foot for his inspection. “Do you like them?”
“Yes, very nice. But see here—”
“No, you see here. Do you really expect me to ride sidesaddle in a samite gown and wimple?”
“You think this a cause for levity, do you?”
“Perish the thought, my lord. I assure you, I give this matter all the seriousness it deserves.”
Seeing there was no arguing with her—there was never any way to gain the upper hand with the headstrong girl—Lord Fayth relented. “Have it your way, my dear,” he said. “But do not come crying to me when you find yourself a wizened spinster of twenty-five because all the eligible young men have shunned you as a pariah.”
“Is that likely to happen?” She seemed to consider this, and then smiled. “No.” She laughed. “I cannot foresee that at all. In any event, it is years away, and by then the shocking indiscretion of this day will