* * *
While Lucy and Sophia shared tea, Colin and his brothers met to plan the next stage of Colin’s journey. Fletcher would carry the plan to London for Walgrave’s approval, then return to Shropshire with the Home Office’s response. That alone would allow Colin to rest for a week. A dozen of Aidan’s best men, old soldiers who worked for him in various capacities, already filled the house, watching the child under the guise of card games, whittling contests, and other entertainments.
Aidan had brought a large folding map of the southern shires from Shropshire to London in the west and the coast in the south. That, combined with Colin’s individual county maps, gave them a fairly clear vision of the best routes to the Royal Family.
“I still think that we should call for more help from my estate. My men can escort you safely to London.”
“Few people question why a duke needs such a large retinue, but no one will believe a duke’s brother needs so many men. Besides, even when they are serving you, your men attract attention, and attention is exactly what Prinny wants to avoid,” Colin objected, thinking of the document Walgrave had given him from the prince regent.
“Let me understand you. You would rather not ask for help and end up dead?” Aidan glowered.
“I’ve already agreed to stay here for a fortnight while you mother me. But I can change my mind.” Colin glowered back.
Seth, ever the peacemaker, tapped the map with his finger, drawing the men’s attention away from their growing stalemate. “To get the babe to Prinny most quickly, London would be the best route. Birmingham to Stratford, then through Oxfordshire to London. Let Aidan’s men travel the roads before you to ward off trouble. Depending on how often you stop, the trip would take two, maybe three, days.”
“If the highwaymen were, as we suspect, assassins, then they will redouble their efforts to keep the child from his relatives.” Colin stared at the ceiling. “A post road will allow too many opportunities to be waylaid before we can reach Kensington or Windsor or even Buckingham.”
“Circumspection is the key. They will expect you to bolt for London, so do something else,” Aidan counseled. “Recuperate here for another week. Seth and I will watch over the child while my men secure the roads ahead of you.”
“We will move in stages. A long run on the road followed by a day or two somewhere safe. The days when we aren’t traveling will allow me to recuperate and make me better able to protect the child on the days when we are, and your men will have ample time to ensure the next stretch of road is secure. As for our route, we give London a wide berth, not using any road leading directly there.”
“That sounds good. And we will also set up a little diversion. If we position the carriages carefully, all someone watching would be able to see would be one man and one woman entering a carriage with two postboys and a coachman. Sophia and I, pretending to be you, will set out at breakneck speeds for London in my third-best carriage, while you and Lucy travel in ducal comfort in some other direction.”
“Two postboys?” Colin questioned.
“Of course,” Seth agreed, smiling. “From a distance and in the right clothes, the wet nurse will make a fine boy.”
Colin leaned forward to trace a line on the map with his finger. “First, we stop here.” He tapped a spot in the countryside near Wolverhampton.
“That’s certainly out of the way.” Seth looked at the surrounding towns. “What’s there?”
“An old manor house, known to local residents and a narrow circle in the Home Office, but long ago removed from any map,” Colin explained. “It’s remote, well appointed, and, other than a gatekeeper, empty. It will be a comfortable haven until Aidan notifies us that the next part of our route is ready to be traveled.”
“Depending on what I can discover in London and what Seth can find out here locally, you could be there three, four days.” Aidan calculated the lengths of the roads. “Then what?”
“We double back to the Bath road.” Colin traced the route with his finger. “Then follow it from Kiddermister, through Worcester, Upton, and Gloucester to stay here.” Colin tapped a point east of Gloucester.
Aidan straightened in surprise and rolled back on his heels. “Are you certain Hartshorn Hall is a wise decision?”
“We will be welcomed, and Lady Emmeline would not breathe a word of our presence. The babe will be safe there, as safe as anywhere.”
“It isn’t the babe I’m considering. Or whether Lady Emmeline can be trusted.” Aidan stared hard at Colin.
“It’s a trip I’ve needed to make.” Colin shrugged off Aidan’s questions. “Besides, it’s our best option in that direction.”
Aidan and Seth met eyes, wordlessly agreeing not to pursue the topic. Seth turned back to the map.
“Well, then, after that, you’ll want to take the road down to Winchester. That will let you come up to London from the south, rather than the north.” Seth marked the route with a pencil. “That should give you an element of surprise.”
“Have you considered delivering the babe either to Prinny’s royal palace at Brighton or the royal family’s residence at Kew? No one would find it surprising for an extra detachment of men to be stationed at either one.” Aidan identified the location of each royal residence with a circle, then drew in a route of well-traveled roads to each from Winchester. “Any of these routes would offer the safety you need, and the guards to support any further movement of the child. I could consult with Walgrave to see which path best suits the Home Office’s plans.”
Colin nodded agreement. “So, it’s Wolverhampton, then Em’s, then wherever the Home Office determines we should go.”
“What will you tell her?” Seth asked quietly.
“Her?” Colin scowled. “Lady Emmeline or Lucy?”
“Both,” Aidan interjected with clear frustration.
“Lady Emmeline will understand. Lucy won’t ask.”
“Are you sure you can trust her?” Aidan pressed, his scowl conveying the full extent of his dismay.
Colin stared Aidan down. “Lucy’s not part of this. She’s in some trouble, but this isn’t it.”
Chapter Nine
The morning at Hartshorn Hall had been filled with rain, trapping Lady Emmeline Hartley in the drawing room with her cousin and her cousin’s unwelcome house party. She had tried to make an early escape, claiming obligations to visit several of the estate’s tenants. But the rain had begun to fall in heavy sheets before she had even been able to reach the stables. She had grudgingly accepted her fate: a day with Stella and her vapid friends.
“When can we expect your betrothed, Emmeline?” Stella demanded archly, tapping her closed fan against her palm. “I was surprised not to find him here already. Did he not promise to visit this week?”
Standing at the long west window watching the rain fall, Emmeline pretended not to hear. The window glass reflected her cousin’s image only indistinctly. But she knew too well the proud set of Stella’s shoulders and the haughty lift of her chin. As usual, her cousin hoped to embarrass her.
At least her cousin’s guests were occupied with games. Emmeline had called for tables for whist and faro when she had realized Stella’s houseguests could not take their anticipated expedition.
She would have to respond, or Stella would simply repeat the question in different words, louder and louder, until she had the attention of everyone in the room.
“Somerville had some pressing business that could not be postponed.” Em turned away from the window, reaching for her cane as she turned. Though she could usually walk without aid, the change in the weather always made the old injury in her leg ache. “But I am sure he will regret it if he arrives after your party returns to London.”
“I promised my friends that we would have fine hunting and pleasant weather, but if this rain continues we will have little reason to remain.” Stella had little patience when her desires were thwarted. “Our excursions have all had to be cancelled or postponed. Had Somerville been o
n time, we could have held a lovely engagement dinner to entertain my guests.”
“Certainly, Somerville was inconsiderate not to weigh more thoroughly the imposition he would create for your party by not arriving as expected.” Em hoped that Stella had not grown more attuned to irony.
“Yes, his absence causes a tremendous inconvenience.” Stella pouted. “Without him, we have no justification for a banquet of that size and variety.”
The door to the hall opened, and Em’s butler, Jeffreys, stood inside it. He raised his forefinger to indicate he needed an audience.
“Well, perhaps it is for the best.” Em nodded to Jeffreys, then walked with Stella slowly toward the door. “Cook has not yet forgiven us for the last impromptu banquet you held for your guests. She had to empty the larder, hire four additional cooks, and purchase the entire weekly produce of two market towns to serve the menu you designed.”
“As if Cook’s feelings or preferences are any of my concern.” Stella lifted her nose and toyed with one of the long tendrils that hung elegantly from her lower neck. “That menu was the perfect complement to the costume ball. It was the talk of the ton for weeks.”
“No, certainly, the pleasure of you and your guests is always the estate’s first priority.” Em reached the door. “I simply would regret if Cook poisoned us all for imposing too much on her.”
“Your ladyship is needed downstairs.” Jeffreys held the door open.
“I say, Em, you would think you were yourself a servant as much time as you spend in the kitchen.” Stella snapped the fan in her hand once more and turned back to her guests.
Em limped through the doorway and waited as Jeffreys shut the door. “The footman who delivered tea indicated that your cousin was growing petulant.”
“And you were waiting to save me, as usual. Thank you.”
Jeffreys held out his arm, and Em leaned heavily on it as they descended the stairs. Once her father’s valet, Jeffreys had taken over the management of the house, after the accident that had left Em lame and killed her mother.
“I find myself less patient with each visit. She interrupted my breakfast this morning, demanding to review my management of the accounts.” Em released Jeffreys’s arm and removed the estate office key from beneath the knob on her cane. “Now that she has borne a son, she finds it impossible to believe that the estate will not pass to him on my father’s death.”
Jeffreys shook his head as he handed Em into an overstuffed Louis Seize armchair with a curving back. “After all these years, I should have grown used to your cousin’s capacity for self-deception.”
“It is enough to make me wish my father would marry his French mistress and produce a son.” Em stretched her leg out, and Jeffreys lifted it onto an overstuffed round ottoman.
“But a son would make no difference in the disposition of the estate.” Jeffreys brought her a wool lap-blanket and wrapped it around her legs. “I was witness to your grandfather’s will myself—and to your father’s.”
“Stella cannot imagine that my father would bequeath the estate to any but a male heir. And yet, my father has asked me to be kind to her. Therefore, until he dies, I will have to endure her visits with as much graciousness as I can muster.” Em closed her eyes against the ache in her leg.
“Perhaps it is time to marry, my dear—share the burden of the estate.” Jeffreys stoked the fire and set a pile of Minerva Press novels beside her. “Your father might return from France if there were grandchildren to spoil.”
“You know my father will never return—you want the grandchildren for yourself.” Em leaned into the chair’s thick cushioned back. “I might close my eyes for a while, Jeffreys. Would you send Bess to me?”
“Of course, your ladyship. And if your cousin wishes to find you, I will tell her you are in the stables.”
Chapter Ten
Colin spent much of the next five days sleeping or pretending to sleep. It was easier than coping with the loving presence of his two brothers and Sophia. When he was awake, they hovered in his room, tormenting him with their constant ministrations.
Most frustrating, Lucy only visited his room when he called for her, and each time she seemed increasingly distant. After their days of constant companionship, he felt her absence like a missing limb, and he wanted to bring back those fleeting days of closeness. Their conversations, playful and serious by turns, had formed an intimacy between them, an intellectual tie he’d never expected to find with a woman.
But he was uncertain what to make of the physical attraction between them. In the garden, she had made it clear that she desired him, but since then, she had treated him only as a nurse would a patient. Had she been serious when she said she only wanted a kiss as a remembrance of their time together? Would she object if, on the road, he tried to kiss her again? If he insisted on a kiss, would he ruin their easy camaraderie, making their journey together miserable? Or could their bodies be as engaged as their minds?
On the sixth day, Colin awoke, intent to leave and soon, even if it meant breaking his promise to Aidan. It took him no time to convince Alice, who brought him his breakfast, to carry a note to Lucy.
When Lucy arrived, he patted the bed beside him and held out his hand. She took it, but when he pulled her toward him, encouraging her to sit on the bed, she resisted.
“It wouldn’t do.”
He let her hand fall, and she pulled the chair toward the bed.
“Lucy, what harm can come of sitting beside me? The door is shut.”
She looked at the door, the chair, his hand, and, shrugging, sat on the bed.
“I have decided to leave tomorrow.”
“So soon?” She looked intently at his face, searching—he knew—for signs of pain. He refused to let her see how much his wound still ached.
“I thought you had agreed to another week’s convalescence.”
“I will rest during the carriage ride.” He smiled reassuringly.
“Given the attack here, I imagine you don’t wish to stop on the road, if it can be avoided.”
“You imagine correctly.” He reached out and carefully trailed his fingers down the line of her chin. She did not object. “We will stop tomorrow night at a friend’s hunting lodge.”
“I assume the lodge is uninhabited at this season.”
“Yes. We will have the place to ourselves.”
“Then I’ll make a basket.” She started to rise, but he stopped her.
“No, ask Nell to make us a basket. She believes we are engaged, so you should act like my fiancée. Ask her for enough food to get six of us to our destination and to feed us for a day or two. We will take the ducal coach—it’s larger and more comfortable. But I need your help to manage our escape.”
“An escape, is it?” She grinned, leaning forward. “I love escapes. Will we do it by cover of night? Or will we escape at noon, but lock your family in their rooms so that they are only able to yell at us from their bedroom windows as we ride away?”
“I do like the idea of locking my brothers in their rooms, but it might be best if I simply tell Aidan we are leaving. He will object, but if we have all the pieces in place, he will have trouble stopping us.” He reached out his hand, and she took it.
“Truthfully, if your brother wishes for you to stay, he will succeed.” She met his eyes with the straightforward honesty he’d come to expect. “You are still weak, and he is a duke. But I don’t imagine he will refuse.”
“Why? Do you think he’s grown tired of playing nursemaid and is aching to return to London?” he asked playfully, but his words covered a twinge of hurt.
“No. I can’t imagine your brother has thought of anything but your welfare since he heard you were wounded.” She looked pensive. “I never had siblings, only my parents and then my fiancée, and I grew up on battlefields, so the term ‘brotherly love’ never meant much to me. But I saw the look on your brother’s face when he thought you were dying and the look when he realized you wouldn’t.” She patted his
hand. “I’m happy to manage the provisions and the people, but I think you might be surprised at how helpful your brother might be, especially when he realizes this is something you need to do.”
“Since you recommend it, I will ask for his help in leaving,” he said solemnly. “But if you prove wrong and I am trapped in this bed, in this room, for another week, I’m going to expect concessions.” He offered her a slow smile and a cavalier wink, waiting to see how she would respond. If they were to be friends, so be it. But would she agree to be something more, even if only for a little while?
“Concessions. I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
He started to speak, then stopped, then stammered over some syllables for a moment, trying to think of how to broach the subject.
“Hmmm. Do you mean like the kiss you insisted I give before you would allow your wound to be dressed?” She smiled a little daringly, and his heart melted. “Or the kiss I stole from you in the garden?”
“Yes, like those, if of course you are interested.” He caught his breath and held it, hoping and fearing she would agree.
“I suppose I would need to think on it. Perhaps I would even want some concessions of my own.” And she slipped from the room before he could even ask what those concessions might be.
* * *
After she gave the cook instructions on how to prepare the baskets for their trip and gave Fletcher the message to prepare to leave, Lucy retired to her room. She called for a bath, and Nell, all smiles, had given her the key to the bathing room reserved for the wealthiest guests (and Nell).
As Lucy lay in the hot water, she found her thoughts turning to her great-aunt, and the house she would not return to, a house with running water and heated baths. She would not fool herself that she wasn’t grateful to be traveling with Colin. It would hide her better than any other course she could have chosen.
He was a kind, honest man, and she regretted she could not be forthcoming in return. At least not yet—or perhaps ever. What would it feel like to ride across the country with him? Could she resist him under such close quarters? Would she want to? If “Lucy” were going to disappear at the end of their journey, why shouldn’t she enjoy the pleasure of his company in the meanwhile? In any liaison, she would be betraying no future husband, for she never intended to marry, and the husband she had intended was already dead.
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