Back to the market where this whole sorry story had begun.
On the edge of the marketplace, she stopped and gasped for breath, waving dizzily to signal to a nearby cab.
“Hatchett’s Hotel,” she told the coachman, hurling her bag into the carriage and scrambling in after it.
The coachman frowned. “You all right, Miss?”
She nodded, not looking at him. “Yes. Just go. Please.” The urge to leave London was burning inside her. This time she had no doubt. Had no fear that panic would overwhelm her as she tried to climb onto the coach. There was no way she could stay in this place.
She watched out the window as the streets crawled by, knotting her fingers together and bouncing impatiently on the edge of her seat.
Was there a chance the Duke would come after her? He had no qualms with forcing her to be his wife. She knew there was a good chance he might chase her across the city, now he had found her.
Letitia balled her hands into fists. What would he do if he caught her? Force her down the aisle and into his bed? She knew there was a chance of it. And she also knew that if such a thing were to happen, life as his wife would be unbearable.
She swallowed hard as sickness rose in her throat.
Can’t this cursed carriage go any faster?
After what seemed an eternity, the cab pulled up outside Hatchett’s Hotel. Letitia leapt from the coach and hurried inside. The surly man was at the desk again, watching the people milling about the foyer with distrusting eyes.
“When is the next coach leaving?” Letitia asked in greeting.
A tiny smile appeared in the corner of the man’s lips. Letitia could tell he recognized her.
That foolish girl who collapsed in a heap while trying to climb onto a coach to Leicester…
She held the clerk’s gaze, fixing him with eyes that told him she wanted answers, not questions.
“Coach for Nottingham leaves in fifteen minutes,” he said, disinterest in his voice. “Overnight stop in Northampton.”
Letitia nodded. She had no thought of where Nottingham or Northampton were, but it didn’t matter. As long as it was far away from the Radcliffe manor— and far away from the Duke of Banfield— it wasn’t important.
Without speaking again, she turned and walked out of the hotel to join the waiting travelers outside. She looked up and down the street.
Had the Duke followed her?
Carriages cluttered the road. Gentlemen in dark coats strutted up and down the footpath, colored scarves bundles around their necks. A news vendor stood at the corner, hollering to passers-by.
Letitia’s heart leapt into her throat as she spied a familiar figure. The Duke had not followed her to the hotel. But Lord Radcliffe had.
He stood with his hands dug into the pockets of his greatcoat, his chin lowered almost apologetically. The wind whipped his fair hair across his eyes. There was a small smile on his lips. “I hoped I might find you here.”
“You followed me.” Bitterness in her words.
“Yes. Of course I did. I’m very worried about you.”
Letitia felt her throat tighten. There was such concern in his eyes, she had to look away. She inspected the crowd again anxiously. “His Grace. Is he with you?”
Lord Radcliffe frowned. “Ezra? No.”
Letitia bristled.
Ezra…
How she hated hearing the Duke’s name on Lord Radcliffe’s tongue.
“You’re friends,” she spat.
Lord Radcliffe hesitated. “Yes. We are.” He sounded a little ashamed. He reached gently for Letitia’s arm. “Has he done something to you? Hurt you in some way?”
Letitia pulled away. She did not want Lord Radcliffe to know any of this. Did not want him involved. She had already caused far too much of a stir in his life. “Please leave,” she said curtly.
He didn’t move. “I don’t want to leave,” he said finally.
Letitia blinked away her tears. Standing close to him made her chest ache. In spite of her anger at him, she knew that if he said the right things, asked the right questions, she would leave this place on his arm. She could not let that happen. Lord Radcliffe deserved more than to be tangled up in her mess.
He must have so many questions. He must be so angry at my lies.
But he did not seem angry. He just seemed worried.
She turned her back, unable to look at him.
She closed her eyes, half hoping to hear his footsteps snap back along the cobbles. The other half of her was desperate willing him to stay. Though she could not see him, she could tell he was still there. Could feel his presence; silent and expectant.
What is he doing? Why does he not just leave?
She stared at her feet, knotting her hands together. Wind gusted through the street and tugged at her skirts.
Letitia looked up as the rhythmic clatter of hooves approached. The coach drew slowly towards the hotel, drawn by two large brown and white horses. The coachman leapt from the box seat.
“Nottingham!” he bellowed, flinging open the door dramatically. “Nottingham via Northampton.”
Drawing in a long breath, Letitia moved slowly towards the carriage.
Stay calm. You can do this.
The need to concentrate on breathing evenly was not entirely unwelcome.
At least it’s helping to take my mind off Lord Radcliffe’s presence.
She handed her money to the coachman and climbed into the carriage. She was the first one inside. She slid onto the bench seat and sat close to the window, pressing her shoulder against the wall of the coach. A fine rain was beginning to dapple the glass.
Letitia tugged her cloak tight around her body, listening to the thuds above her head as the burly coachman slung trunks onto the roof of the carriage. She stared through the window at the busy street. Each time a gentleman passed, she felt a thudding in her chest.
The Duke?
Lord Radcliffe had found her here. She knew there was every chance the Duke could too. Her knuckles whitened around the hem of her cloak. She willed the coachman to hurry himself and leave.
She could hear the other passengers climbing into the coach. Could smell the wet wool of their cloaks and the musky scent of damp skin. She kept her gaze fixed out the window, not daring to look at any of them.
Finally, she turned away from the glass. She swallowed a gasp. Lord Radcliffe was sitting opposite her, his hands folded neatly in his lap. Raindrops glittered silver on the shoulders on his greatcoat.
“What are you doing?” Letitia demanded, her voice low.
Lord Radcliffe held her gaze. “Coming to Nottingham.”
She let out her breath. “Don’t be foolish.”
“I’m worried for you,” he said. “After what happened last time. I just want to see you there safely. Once you arrive, I’ll turn around and come straight back. I swear it.”
Letitia said nothing. How could she argue? Lord Radcliffe’s intentions were infuriatingly noble. And she couldn’t deny there was something comforting about not being so entirely alone. A very big part of her, Letitia realized, did not want to argue.
She said nothing. Just turned back to look out the window as the coach pulled away from the hotel.
Chapter 25
Algernon leant back in his seat and tried to relax. Tried to let the rhythmic clatter of the carriage lull him into calmness.
No. He was far too edgy for that.
He didn’t know where to look. Miss Cooper was staring out the window, doing her best to pretend he was not there. Was she angry? Ashamed? Fearful? Algernon hated that he couldn’t read her.
He kept his eyes down, staring into his clasped fingers.
There were several other passengers crammed into the coach with them; two young women who looked to be sisters and three men dressed in tarred coats that smelled faintly of fish. The men spoke to each other in mumbles, while the women’s whispered conversation was punctuated with giggles. Only he and Miss Cooper were silent.
“You were right,” he’d told Harriet, as he’d hastily buttoned his greatcoat. “Everything you told me about Miss Cooper was right.”
Harriet had smiled a bright and knowing smile. “Of course I’m right. She’s a runaway lady. Just like in my story books.” In spite of her smile, her eyes were red-rimmed. “She’s leaving,” she told Algernon, the spark disappearing from her voice. “Miss Cooper. I mean, Miss Caddy.”
Algernon strode towards the door. “I know. And I need to stop her.” He turned to kiss his daughter. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Harriet threw her arms around him and squeezed. “It’s all right, Papa. I don’t mind how long it takes. Just be sure to bring her home.”
Algernon shuffled awkwardly on the bench seat as the elbow of the man beside him made contact with his ribs. He had never ridden in a shared coach like this before and was finding the experience decidedly uncomfortable.
He glanced across at Miss Cooper.
No doubt she has never ridden in a shared coach before either…
Now the shock of discovering who she really was had begun to settle, Algernon realized he was not entirely surprised by the discovery. There had been something about Molly Cooper from the beginning. Something angelic, something almost ethereal. Something that made her seem far more than a kitchen hand. And her cooking? Algernon smiled to himself. Any fool ought to have seen she had never set foot in a kitchen before.
Perhaps love truly does make one blind…
And what of the Duke? Algernon had raced from the house after Miss Cooper without offering Banfield so much as a goodbye. His snub of the Duke had not been entirely unintentional.
Algernon had not been able to miss the horror in Miss Cooper’s eyes when she had seen Banfield in the office. There could be no doubt that she knew of the gentleman.
Banfield had acted oddly when they had discussed the Baron’s runaway daughter. Algernon couldn’t help but feel as though he knew more about Letitia Caddy’s reasons for fleeing than he was letting on.
His eyes came to rest on Miss Cooper. She was staring out the window at the rusty moorland, winding a stray strand of blonde hair around her finger.
Was the Duke of Banfield the reason she had fled the Radcliffe manor so abruptly? Was he the reason she had run away from home in the first place? Though they had been friends for many years, Algernon had to admit he did not know a great deal about the Duke. He had little idea who Ezra Barrington truly was. Had even less idea about what he was capable of. But if he had hurt Miss Cooper in any way, Algernon needed to know. And he would see to it that the Duke was punished.
The coach lurched suddenly through a ditch, making the two young women shriek, then explode into giggles. Miss Cooper gasped, her fingers tightening around the edge of the bench seat. Finally, Algernon could bear the tension no more.
“Miss Cooper? Won’t you speak to me?”
She pulled her eyes away from the window. “Why are you still addressing me that way?” Her voice was low and sharp. “You know who I really am.”
Algernon hesitated. She was right of course. She was not Miss Cooper. She was Letitia Caddy, Baron’s daughter. A member of the nobility.
A lady I could marry…
Algernon shoved the thought away. Now was really not the time.
“Miss Caddy.” He tried again. “We need to speak.”
She shook her head stiffly. “No. Not here.” She turned to look back out the window, making it clear his miserable attempt at conversation had failed.
* * *
With winter drawing closer, the dusk came early, staining the sky with orange and gray. The light drained away and soon Letitia could see nothing through the coach window but long shadows and darkness.
The carriage kept moving.
An overnight stop in Northampton, the hotel clerk had told her. Where were they now? How long would it be until they stopped?
This was all suddenly, sickeningly familiar. The rattle of the coach, the shadows pushing through the window, the rhythmic jolting through her body.
And then come more hooves, fast and urgent. And then comes shouting, a gunshot, screaming. There is groaning and blood and the vicious eyes of the bandits as they ride into the night with their hands full of Mother’s jewels.
Letitia closed her eyes and tried to breathe. Her heart was fast, her skin suddenly hot. She could feel sweat prickling the back of her neck. She clenched her hands together until her knuckles turned white.
That happened many years ago. You’re safe here. There are no bandits on this road.
But she knew, of course, that she had no facts with which to reassure herself. There could be bandits here. Men with pistols, unafraid to fire.
She tried to push them from her thoughts. Tried to remember the story she and Harriet had been reading. Tried to lose herself in the world of story, as she had done so many times in the past.
The pirate king, yes. Sailing ships and mermaids and turquoise seas…
It had been many days since she had read a book. The details of the story had blurred. Her own life had become so much of an adventure that she had no need to lose herself between the pages of a book. And now, when she wanted more than anything to escape the real world for a time, she felt completely unable to do so.
She felt the bench seat shift beside her. Heard the scuffle of footsteps.
She looked up to see Lord Radcliffe exchanging seats with the man sitting beside her. The Marquess sat close, nodding his thanks to the man in the fish-scented coat. He turned to look at Letitia, that familiar concern in his gaze.
“Miss Caddy?” he murmured. “Are you all right?”
Letitia managed a nod.
Lord Radcliffe pressed a warm hand to her forearm. His touch was steadying. “Just breathe,” he said gently. “Everything is all right.”
The feel of him sent a flood of warmth through her, sending thoughts of bandits away. And in spite of herself, Letitia began to feel that hot ache inside her that his touch had always elicited. How cold and empty the past week had seemed without it.
She knew she and Lord Radcliffe could never be, even now that he knew who she truly was. Now the Duke had found her, she had no choice but to flee the city. Forget everything about her life in London. But her body, Letitia had learned well, had a mind of its own when it came to Lord Radcliffe. And right now, she needed that warmth, that delicious ache, needed the steadying feel of his hand against her arm. She let herself forget her anger at the Marquess. She drew in a long breath and felt her muscles relax.
“Good,” said Lord Radcliffe. “Just like that.” He gave her a small smile and said again, “Everything is all right.”
And for an all-too-fleeting moment, Letitia allowed herself to believe that he was right.
* * *
By the time they reached the coaching house in Northampton, the night was thick and inky. Lamps flickered from the awnings of the inn, casting an orange glow across the road.
Letitia accepted Lord Radcliffe’s hand to climb from the carriage. “Thank you,” she murmured. She looked up to catch his eye.
He nodded faintly. His eyes were expectant. Letitia knew she owed him an explanation. She owed him an explanation for so many things. But she had been unable to dispense with the last flicker of anger over his friendship with the Duke of Banfield. She could not bring herself to discuss her reasons for running away. But an explanation for her distress in the carriage? That she could manage.
“My parents’ coach was attacked by bandits when I was a child,” she told him, looking back over her shoulder at the lightless expanse of the road. “The coachman was shot and my parents were robbed…” She faded out. The words felt suddenly foolish. The attack ha
d happened so many years ago. And yet she had let it affect her entire life. How many experiences had she missed out on, because she had been too afraid to leave the house?
But Lord Radcliffe said, “That must have been terrifying.”
“I know I ought never have let it affect me so much. But for so many years, I was so scared of such a thing happening again.” She found herself needing to say more. “I convinced myself the world was full of monsters. I became too afraid to venture outside my father’s manor. I lived my entire life through story books.”
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