It was a long, painful process, going down the stairs. But each step took him closer to the front door, closer to the outside, closer to the stables. There had to be some stable lad who, for a few coins, would be glad to tell him what had been ordered, horse or carriage, for Gwenllian. He might even obtain the likely destination.
He rounded the curve of the staircase and was surprised to see Miss Howard sitting on the bottom step. Her back was to him, but he knew it was her. Her presence was unexpected not only because he had assumed that all the houseguests had left, but because she did not seem the type to sit on anything but finely upholstered furniture.
She did not move even though he knew she must hear his laborious approach. When at last he reached her step, she turned and looked up at him. Her expression was thoughtful. One might almost call it calculating.
"Letticia does not wish you to find Miss Lloyd.” It was a bland statement of fact.
"No, miss.” Daniel kept his voice as disinterested as hers sounded.
"And you have no money, I hear,” she continued.
"None at all."
Miss Howard nodded to herself. “You are completely unsuitable."
"Thank you."
Miss Howard had the grace to blush. “I meant for me.” She turned so she could look up at the portraits lining the near wall and pretend her thoughts were upon them. “Letticia can be exceedingly vexing,” she murmured.
Daniel waited. Miss Howard wished to make a point. She would get to it eventually.
"She thinks Miss Lloyd should marry a gentleman,” Miss Howard continued. “Miss Lloyd would make a poor wife for a gentleman, but she might make do as a poor wife."
Daniel ignored the insult. Miss Howard still seemed pensive. She possessed information about Miss Lloyd, he was certain. The proper words would win it from her, and he had a suspicion he knew what words might work the charm.
"That is not why Lady Berwentford refuses to tell me where she has gone."
Miss Howard looked over at him again. She was frowning. “Why, then?"
"Because I shall not marry Miss Lloyd. I wish to inform her of this to her face."
"Oh. How beastly. In that case...” Miss Howard stood and brushed her palms off on her dress. “She has taken the old north road through Chiptonbury. I believe she is heading to Lord Berwentford's Scottish estate."
* * * *
The Prancing Pig was not the finest inn in Chiptonbury, but it was clean and she was able to eat in the privacy of her own room. The innkeeper had set up a simple, wooden table and chair in the space between Gwenllian's bed, its tall bedstead hiding the pull-out truckle bed for Patsy underneath, and the hearth. The small fire crackling in the fireplace and the two candles, partially melted to their modest candlesticks, glowing upon the table gave the room a cozy atmosphere, though such light was not entirely necessary. The sun was only just beginning to descend.
Gwenllian sat and picked at her trencher of cold roast beef. Well, she could have eaten in her room if she had had the appetite for it. Food held no interest for her. Nothing held any interest for her. Which was a pity because Scotland was supposed to be beautiful. At any other time in her life she would have been thrilled at the prospect of a long journey and the subsequent opportunity to explore a new, enchanting countryside. But now.
She needed a new brain. This one was too awash in regret. Regret that she had left, and without saying goodbye to Daniel. Regret that she had fallen in love. If she died of a broken heart, she would damn well find Daniel and haunt him about it. She sighed. She might regret leaving, but she could not have stayed. He did not want to marry her. Thank you very much, indeed.
But what had she expected? He had been honest with her. He had never promised her anything. There was no understanding between them. Other than that he was blameless and she was a featherbrained cake. So why stay to mope around Primroselea when she could be moping around Scotland?
She picked some more at the cold beef. It was no use. She leaned over to put the trencher down for Oliver. He danced about impatiently and buried his short muzzle in it the moment it was solidly on the floor. The pug found the beef most impressive.
A single, resounding knock at her closed door made both Gwenllian and Oliver jump. Such power was unlikely to come from Patsy's hands. She was not expecting anyone else.
She rushed to the door and locked it before she called, “Who is there?"
"Open the door.” The command was muffled by the solid wood between them but it was a decidedly male voice.
Gwenllian stepped backwards until she bumped into the little table and had to whirl to catch the candlesticks. She took a deep breath. She wasn't such a fool that she would open the door to a stranger. And of the men she knew in her life, there was not one she wished to speak to at present. She released the steadied candles and slowly turned back around to gaze at the closed door. It was the only thing protecting her from the public inn's other occupants, who might be highwaymen, lechers, or drunkards. The door would remain locked.
"No,” Gwenllian shouted. “Patsy!"
Her refusal was met with another resounding blow. Then the wood around the lock splintered with a sharp crack and with the next blow the door banged open.
Daniel Wyckliff had kicked the door in.
He stood in the doorway, grinning roguishly at her, even though he looked like death. “Beggin’ thy pardon, miss. The door was locked."
Gwenllian was laughing in astonishment. She clasped her hands together merrily. “You are not yet well enough to be up and about, let alone breaking down doors. And, might I add, how dare you! I—or rather, Letticia—shall have to pay for that now.” She knew her concurrent laughter belied her chastising words, but she was too pleasantly surprised to see him for her tone to be anything but cheerful.
Daniel stepped across the wreckage of the threshold. Behind him, Patsy ran up. She was carrying Gwenllian's requested ginger beer but much of it had splashed down the front of her dress in her hurry.
"Oh, miss!” she cried out, alarmed.
Daniel looked over his shoulder at her. “Get out,” he commanded. He took another arduous step into the room, then looked back again and amended his demand. “Get out, please."
"'Tis fine, Patsy. I should not have called for you. Everything is fine."
Patsy looked nervously from Gwenllian to Daniel. She was absolutely correct in thinking things did not look fine. Gwenllian crossed to the bed where she had deposited her reticule, searched through her coins and withdrew a golden half-guinea. Daniel meanwhile reached the chair she had vacated earlier and collapsed into it. With some effort, he bent over and did his best to pet Oliver, who was wagging wildly and whining to be greeted. She strode to Patsy's side.
"Everything is fine,” she reassured the maid. “Here.” Gwenllian pressed the half-guinea into her palm. “Might you be able to amuse yourself for a few hours with this?"
Patsy's eyes glowed. “Yes, miss,” she replied, her tone one of breathy excitement. She promptly withdrew.
"You gave too large a bribe,” Daniel commented.
Gwenllian walked back to stand at his side. “You did not see what I gave her."
"I could tell from her face. For such a sum, she is most likely certain you intend to ravish me."
Gwenllian crossed her arms, suddenly feeling rather defensive. “Why are you here?"
"I am not altogether certain myself. It had something to do with not marrying you."
"I already know that tune,” she snapped. “Try something else if you wish to entertain."
"I want you to understand."
"I understand completely."
"No, I do not think that you do.” He paused, his eyebrows knit together. “Think on it like this: Would you take Oliver into a war zone? Of course not. You want him to be safe, and indulged, and treated like royalty. That is what I want for you.” He sighed and glanced away. “You will always be what I am fighting for, but what I cannot have for myself."
"Tr
ue, I want the best for Oliver,” she began slowly. “But if I were to ask him, and he were to say that he accepted the risk and wanted to come with me, I would let him.” She grinned. “I would be mad, of course, for I would be talking to a dog, but we would be together. That is all I ask from you."
He laughed and raised his eyes to hers. “What, madness?"
She gently poked him in the chest. “You know what I meant."
He caught her hand in his. “Aye, lass, but I am that mad about you and no mistake.” He turned her hand and lightly kissed the back of it. His lips were warm and dry. “But any union between us would be doomed to failure."
"I prefer your actions to your discouraging words.” She freed her hand from his. “Besides, it need not be an official union.” She walked to the other side of the room. “I might not wish to marry.” She turned to face him. “Ever. I wager I could be like Isabella if I put my mind to it."
"'Tis not an occupation that relies on minds."
"You may mock me, but I daresay I could earn my livelihood in that manner if I tried."
He nodded thoughtfully. “You might do. But as I would have to kill any man who so much as laid a finger on you, I could not in fairness recommend such a course."
She paced back to his side. “And what would you do if I found this rich, phantom husband that you think waits to indulge me? Kill him, too? You are illogical, sir."
He looked down at the floor, where Oliver had resumed eating the cold beef. For a moment the only sounds in the room were the munching of the pug and the rasping of Daniel's breath.
When Daniel glanced up at her once again, the unspoken plea in his intense gaze was answered by thrills and pangs deep within her body. “I am attempting to do what is honorable, and I do not have much honor with which to work. If you continue to fight me on this, I warrant I will give in. Flee while you still have the chance. Please."
"I do not want to flee. And I do not require you to marry me. I am willing to simply tag along with you. I was never much in Society's eye, so if I disappear I doubt anyone will even notice. Letticia will forgive me, eventually, and until then I have money she gave me that I have saved. You can't possibly be that expensive to follow if you are as poor as you say."
He snorted. “Much as I would enjoy that, we can hardly jounce along as we are."
"And why not?"
"First off, your sister will have fits heard across five counties. But even after that, you could never attend any of the amusements of your class. You could never visit anyone. Anywhere you showed your face, whispers and insults would follow you. In order to maintain their own reputations, your relations would have nothing to do with you."
"I pay no mind to that."
He inhaled deeply. “Don't mind when it is too late.” He stood, using one hand on the chair for support. The other arm he wrapped around Gwenllian and drew her against him. “If tha wilt nail th'self to me, ‘twill be for good an’ all. I shall never let thee go."
Mindful of his healing wounds, Gwenllian tenderly embraced him. “Promises, promises,” she teased.
He rested his chin on the top of her head. “I am being serious."
"So am I. What do you think of Scotland?"
He chuckled. “Pardon?"
"Oliver and I are on our way to Scotland. I hear recuperation is quite good there this time of year."
"And what would Lady Berwentford say to my presence?"
Gwenllian giggled. “We just won't inform her immediately."
"I will have to advise Nigel Adamstone where I am, though I doubt he cares where I convalesce.” Daniel shifted. Gwenllian felt him kiss the top of her head. “Out of curiosity, Princess, and ‘tis only curiosity, mind you."
"Yes?"
"How close is where we are going to Gretna Green?"
Gwenllian looked up and met Daniel's mesmerizing hazel eyes and his bright, lawless smile.
This was going to be a splendid beginning.
Meet Susanne Saville
Susanne Saville has earned a Master's Degree in History and a second Master's Degree in Library Science. The casual observer might suppose that this primarily qualifies her to dispense fries at fast-food restaurants. However, Ms. Saville has worked as a Reference Librarian and as a History instructor at Georgia Military College. She currently resides in New England and, along with writing, delights in researching, spending quality time with her cat, and eating fries at fast-food restaurants.
VISIT OUR WEBSITE
FOR THE FULL INVENTORY
OF QUALITY BOOKS:
www.wings-press.com
Quality trade paperbacks and downloads
in multiple formats,
in genres ranging from light romantic comedy
to general fiction and horror. Wings has something
for every reader's taste.
Visit the website, then bookmark it.
We add new titles each month!
* * *
Visit www.wings-press.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.
The Secret Hunter Page 20