“You’ll stay out of my way, all right,” he growled, “here in London where you belong.”
“You have no say in the matter, Mr. Brennan. Though I prefer to have your help, I refuse to take it if it means you travel without me. I followed them to London successfully, and I can follow them out entirely alone.” She held out her hand. “If you will just return my sketch and miniature and tell me which direction they went—”
“Bloody hell, woman! What will you do once you catch up to them? Give Pryce one of your Lady High-and-Mighty stares and order him to release your sister? Lay him low with your contempt? The cut direct may make your kind quake in their boots, but it only angers mine. Act haughty in
my
world, and you’ll find yourself knocked back on your elegant arse.”
She pointedly ignored his insults, not to mention his coarse language. “I’ll convince Juliet of her folly, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll…I’ll summon a constable. Or pay Mr. Pryce off.” When Mr. Brennan shook his head,
she went on heatedly, “I don’t know what I’ll do, all right? But I’ll stop him however I can.”
What she wanted was to unman the wily Mr. Pryce, which would definitely break
some
rule in Mrs. N’s guide. Besides which, she didn’t have the faintest idea how to go about it. “I’m going after them, with or without you.”
“What about your reputation?” he snapped.
That brought her up short. “What about it?”
“You travel alone with me, and you might as well throw it away. Such behavior isn’t proper for a lady, and well you know it.”
“I suppose bringing a maid along is out of the question?”
“It’s
all
out of the question, damn it!” he roared. “It’ll be difficult traveling with
one
woman under these circumstances, much less two!”
She sniffed. “Well, forgive my presumption, but I didn’t think it would hurt to ask.” When he drew himself up like a snorting bull about to charge, she added hastily, “In any case, I’m not concerned about my reputation.” She thrust the point of her cane at him. “And since when do you care about what’s proper? A man who greets his visitors half-clad is in no position to lecture on the proprieties.”
“A lady who takes offense at it is in no position to flout them, either.”
“Under the circumstances, I have no choice. Besides, it’s not as if anyone need know we’re traveling together.”
He gaped at her as if she were insane. “What about the inns we’ll have to frequent, the posting houses, even the road itself? You don’t think anybody will notice a refined lady traveling with a low-born lout like me? You don’t think they’ll talk about it? Spread the tale from here to kingdom come?”
She swallowed. She hadn’t actually considered that.
“Then we’ll just…I don’t know…invent a story about why we’re together. We’ll tell people you’re my brother.”
His laugh mocked her. “Oh, aye, they’ll believe that. You and me are just two peas in a pod, aren’t we? You might as well claim we’re lovers, because that’s what they’ll think if you try to pass
me
off as your brother.”
Lovers! The very idea! She ducked her head, striving to hide her blush beneath her bonnet’s brim. “You could…pretend to be my servant.”
“Oh, you’d have a fine time with that, wouldn’t you?” he snapped. “You’d enjoy an excuse to whip me raw with your tongue whenever you take a notion to it. But I’m not putting myself in that position, so give up that idea right now, m’lady.”
“I-I didn’t mean—”
“There’s only one explanation that anybody might believe—and I say
might
because it’s as ridiculous as those others. You could pretend to be my wife. No one would question a woman traveling with her husband.”
She lifted her gaze to his. Was he serious? She searched his face, the grim slant to his mouth, the hint of calculation in his gray eyes. Hard to tell. Yet the very idea turned her insides to jelly. “How does that differ from my pretending to be your sister?”
He shrugged. “Men of my kind don’t have sisters born above themselves, do they? But they do marry above themselves—which is why Pryce can succeed at carrying off your sister.”
“That’s absurd.” Yet she knew he was right. Still, was that satisfaction she glimpsed in his face?
He gave an exaggerated sigh as he strolled back behind his desk and began stuffing items into a small leather bag. “Well, then, there’s no help for it. You’ll have to stay here. If you travel with me unchaperoned you’ll be ruined
for sure, and we both agree you can’t pretend to be my wife. A pity.”
“I didn’t say I can’t,” she hastened to correct him. “Or even that I won’t.”
His head shot up and his gaze burned into her. “You’d travel as my wife? Share a room with me if necessary? Because that’s the only way I’ll let you go. I’ll not be responsible for ruining your future, and nobody’ll ask questions if you travel as my wife.”
Now she
knew
he wasn’t serious. Share a room with her, hah! He didn’t even like her. He was just trying to scare her off, the wretch.
She tossed her head back. “If that’s the way it must be, then yes, I will.”
“Like bloody hell, you will!” he exploded, proving her supposition correct. He raked his fingers through his hair, leaving the blond, rough-cut locks more unruly than before. “I’ve never met a woman as stubborn as you.”
“You can’t dissuade me from this, you know. I don’t care about the dangers, I don’t care about your dislike of me, and I certainly don’t care if some strangers gossip about me afterward. I only care about Juliet.”
Her hands trembled, but she went on even in the face of his black scowl. “Don’t you understand? When you find her—
if
you find her—you’ll need me, if only to convince her she can’t marry this wretch. She certainly won’t listen to you on such a matter. Besides which, I just can’t…sit here and wait to find out what has happened. I have to do something.”
When his frown softened the merest fraction, she pressed her advantage. “And I can be of use to you—I know I can. Surely there will be places where my rank or my sex can work in our favor. I could make things easier for you by ensuring that our lodgings furnish
everything required for your comfort while you’re making inquiries or—”
“Enough, m’lady. The last thing I need is you seeing to my comfort.” His gaze played over her with an odd mix of emotion—exasperation tinged by something else, something shattering and dark and dangerous. He drew in a ragged sigh. “But if you go with me, there’ll be conditions, d’you understand? You’ll have to consent to all of them before I’ll even consider it.”
Hope filled her. “Of course. Whatever you say, whatever you want.”
“Don’t be so quick to agree. You won’t like them.” He crossed his arms over his barrel chest, looking for all the world like a powerful genie guarding the entrance to the treasure cave. His eyes assessed her coolly from bonnet to boots. “First, you’ll have to dress different. Your pretty gowns will call attention to us, not to mention tempt every thief in three counties. You’ll have to wear the plainest gowns you can manage—no lace, no fancy furbelows, no—”
“Done.”
His scowl deepened. “Second, you do as I say without complaint. We eat when I say, stop when I say, and take lodgings when and where I say. Understood?”
She bobbed her head vigorously.
“You think I don’t mean it, but I do. I promise to be the harshest of taskmasters.”
“And I promise to be the meekest of servants.”
He snorted. “That I’ll have to see to believe. Third, and here’s the rub, you keep quiet whenever we’re around other people.”
“Why?”
“Because every time you open your mouth, you make a man feel like he’s two feet tall and missing his cods.”
The vulgarity made her stiffen and his implication stung, but she guessed this was a test and so kept silent, despite having to gnaw on her tongue to manage it.
He gazed at her expectantly and when she said nothing, added bitingly, “We won’t find out anything if you start talking to people like they’re beneath your touch.”
“I don’t do that!” she retorted. When both his eyebrows arched high on his forehead, she added, “Well, only with men, anyway.”
“Yes, and much of the time we’ll be talking to men.” He cocked his head. “Come to think of it, maybe you should always keep quiet. Then I won’t be tempted to throttle you every mile or so.”
At his glower, she shrank into herself. Perhaps this was not such a good idea after all. Would she have been better off hiring Bow Street runners? At least they wouldn’t try to order her about.
Or would they? Men of that sort were bound to be just as arrogant. At least she was used to dealing with Mr. Brennan’s arrogance. Besides, although he drove her insane and talked gruffly of throttling her, she didn’t think he would actually harm her.
“I’ll do whatever is necessary to make this endeavor a success,” she vowed.
“Will you?” He surveyed her for a long moment, then let out an enormous sigh. “Very well. We’ve wasted enough precious time with this argument as it is. You’ve got one hour at Griff’s to pack your things. Pack light, no more’n one bag. And if you’re not ready to leave when I am, I’m leaving without you.”
“So you’re taking me?” she said, relief making her suddenly light-headed.
“Do you agree to my conditions?”
“I do, I do!”
“Well, then,” he groused, “I s’pose we’ll be traveling together, since you’re likely to make a spectacle of yourself by trailing along behind if I don’t take you.”
“Oh, thank you! You won’t regret it, I promise.”
He gave a hard, self-mocking laugh. “I already regret it, believe me. I’ve never done a more foolish thing in my life.” He picked up his leather purse, buttoned the flap, then stuffed it in his coat pocket and came around the desk. “Come along then, m’lady. It’s time we got on the road.”
It’s of a false knight from the North
Who came a-courting me
He promised he’d take me unto the North land
And there his bride would be.
“Lady Isobel and the Elf-Knight,”
anonymous Scottish ballad
J
arred from a deep sleep, Juliet Laverick opened her eyes to find herself sprawled across the seat of a moving coach with her face pressed to the window. What was she doing here?
“Had a nice nap?” asked a deep male voice. “Do you feel better now?”
Her gaze shot to the handsome man across from her,
and she remembered. She was running away with Captain Will Morgan, the man she loved.
“Much better, thank you.” Dear me, her legs were stretched out on the seat like a schoolgirl’s. Swiftly she swung her feet to the floor and flashed her companion an embarrassed smile.
But he didn’t see it, having already turned his head to stare out the window. “Good. You needed to rest.” A lock of coal-black hair dropped onto his forehead, making him look even more rakishly attractive. “We’ll be in Hurst Green soon. We’ll lunch there, and that should refresh you even more.”
She relished the kind solicitude that he maintained even in the face of his concern that they might be followed. Of course, that would never happen, as she’d told him many times. The very thought was ridiculous. Helena hardly even left the house to go into Stratford, much less travel across England. Papa couldn’t come after them even with Griff’s mother helping him. So she and Will were quite safe.
Yet Will insisted on maintaining this punishing pace. They’d traveled so much in the past few days she’d forgotten what it was like not to have her body continually jostled, her sleep disrupted, and her meals bolted. He’d been a perfect gentleman throughout, taking a separate room for her in every inn out of “courtesy,” but sometimes she wished he weren’t quite so courteous. After they’d left Stratford, she’d expected him to become a bit more…well…passionate in his addresses.
But he was as much the gentleman as ever, and she found that distinctly annoying. Her love for him was so thrilling she often found herself wanting to cover his face with kisses, but she didn’t dare. It would shock him—she
just knew it. He was the kind of gentleman who kept his emotions in check. And though she ought to do the same, she found it harder every day they were alone together.
“How long before we reach Winchelsea?” she asked.
“This evening, most likely.”
“And your friend’s ship will be waiting for us?”
“It depends on when he docks in Rye Harbour nearby. We’ll stay in his cottage in Winchelsea until then. It might be a couple of days, however.”
“Perhaps if we’d taken passage in Bristol—”
“I told you—I don’t have the funds for that. My friend from Winchelsea will carry us to Scotland for free.” As if realizing how curt he sounded, he softened his voice and added, “You mustn’t worry about it, my dear. It will all be fine.”
She flinched at his typically indulgent tone. When they’d first met it hadn’t bothered her, because he’d been so sweet otherwise, teasing her out of her shyness and delighting her with tales of war on the Continent. No other man his age had paid such attention to her, and with everyone else ignoring her, she’d basked in his approval.
He’d been completely sympathetic to her complaints about Helena’s crossness. He’d agreed with her when she’d protested that Mrs. Knighton wasn’t caring for Papa the way she ought, the way Juliet herself always had. He’d understood her listlessness after Rosalind had married, her disappointment in her own life and prospects.
She’d been sure that she and Will belonged together, like Rosalind and Griff. And when he’d warned that Papa would never approve the marriage and had suggested that they elope, she’d been eager to follow his lead, convinced that he loved her even though he never said it. Not in so many words. He spoke of “enjoying her company,” “caring for her,” and such things, but not love. It had
seemed part of his natural reserve not to speak of it, so she’d squelched her concern, too full of her own love to do otherwise.