“Oh.” She glanced down at herself, sniffed cautiously, and blushed. He cursed himself silently for embarrassing her. She stank, but it wasn’t her fault.
“Do you have anything to drink?” she asked. “I’m very thirsty.”
He passed her a bottle. “Cold tea—a habit I picked up in the army. Never know when you might need it.” She drank it all down, draining it dry. Thirsty indeed.
“Thank you. I needed that.” She handed it back with a tremulous smile.
“So, I gather you weren’t eloping with that bastard?”
That put the starch back in her spine. “No, of course I wasn’t! He abducted me.”
“How?”
She flushed slightly. “He tricked me.” She fidgeted a little, tucking her toes more securely under the fur rug. “I was at the Mainwaring rout with Cal and Emm . . .”
She explained how she’d been enticed outside.
He frowned. “You didn’t realize the note was a forgery? You didn’t recognize your own sister’s writing?”
She turned a dusky rose-pink and didn’t meet his eyes. “No,” she mumbled, but didn’t explain. She’d probably had too much to drink, he decided.
She continued her story, explaining how she was shoved into a carriage and drugged—kept in a damned airless box like a coffin—and his anger grew.
She glossed over the part where she’d been let out to relieve herself, mentioning only that the pins and needles had made it hard to walk, and that the fresh air had made her more alert, but he could read between the lines at her complete mortification.
He wished now he’d beaten that bastard to a pulp and then dragged him and his damned coachman off to jail. If he’d realized at the time what he’d been dealing with . . .
“So his destination was Gretna Green and a forced marriage,” he said when she’d finished. “An heiress, are you?”
She nodded. “Cal always warned us that men might want us for our money, but I never imagined . . . I didn’t think . . .” Her face crumpled and the big gray eyes filled with tears. “I’ve made such a mess of things. Everyone will be so worried.”
“Not your fault,” he said heartily, hoping to head off the incipient waterworks. “In fact, dashed clever of you to have the presence of mind to stick your tongue in the neck of that bottle.”
She looked up in surprise. “Clever?”
“Absolutely. You escaped from that villain all by yourself, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but if you hadn’t come along—”
“Don’t even think about it. I did, and that’s all that matters. We’ll get you back home safe, don’t worry, and nobody will know of your little adventure. And you won’t be tricked by any plausible blackguard in future, will you?”
She bit her lip. “I hope not.” It came out as a shamed whisper.
There was a long silence. He didn’t know what to say. He knew nothing about this girl, apart from who her brother was. He wasn’t used to the company of virtuous young women. He’d done his best to avoid respectable women since he’d sold out of the army.
He had no desire to marry, no desire to take on the responsibility for anyone’s future except his own. It would be necessary one day, he accepted that—he owed it to Grandfather, and to the family name. The blasted title.
But not yet.
She gave a sudden, convulsive shudder, then glanced at him self-consciously. “Just thinking about what a lucky escape I’ve had.”
He nodded.
“I can’t imagine what it would be like to be forced to marry a man you don’t know.” Her words were a little slurred still and the pupils of her eyes were dark. The remnants of the drug.
“Mmm.”
She added shyly, “I’ve always wanted to marry for love.”
“Ah.” He nodded, as if he had some idea of what she was talking about. Love? Marriage was about duty. And heirs. And responsibility.
Last year he’d almost married a woman he barely knew, the daughter of a friend of his grandfather. Only to please the old man, who he’d thought was on his last legs—the cunning old devil.
Ned hadn’t particularly fancied the girl, but he was philosophical about marriage—no matter what way you looked at it, it was a lottery—and he would have gone through with it. He’d let Grandfather down enough in his life; might as well do this one thing to please the old man before he breathed his last.
Luckily once the girl got to know him better, she’d called it off. What had she called him? A rake and a libertine, coldhearted, irreligious, unprincipled and irredeemable!
Which was accurate enough. There was worse too, in his past, though she didn’t know about that. Nobody knew, only himself. And the dead.
But Grandfather was still alive and kicking, which was the best outcome of all. If he loved anyone, it was his grandfather.
After a moment Lily glanced outside.
“Where are we, Mr. Galbraith? I have no idea how long I was shut in the darkness.”
“Call me Ned. Or Edward.” Mr. Galbraith from a girl only a handful of years younger than him made him feel like his father, even if his father was dead. For most of his adult life he’d been Lieutenant, or Captain or Major Galbraith. Or simply Galbraith to his peers. He glanced out the window. “We were a few miles before Boroughbridge when we met up.”
She shook her head, clearly having no idea where Boroughbridge was.
“A dozen or so miles from Harrogate.”
She gasped. “Harrogate? Harrogate in Yorkshire?”
He nodded.
“Then I’ve been missing for—how long? What day is it? I’ve lost all track of time.”
He told her.
“Thursday afternoon?” she whispered incredulously. “It can’t be. The Mainwaring rout was on Tuesday night.” He watched as the truth sank into her. “Two nights away . . .”
They traveled along in silence after that. Ned was relieved when she finally closed her eyes. Pools of misty gray, fringed by thick, sooty lashes.
Cal Rutherford should have set a guard on her. She was a walking temptation to any man, and not just because she was
