He swung up beside her, making their perch sway to a terrifying degree. Gathering the reins, he paused to tip his hat at a rakish angle with one finger. “Oh, I’m quite serious, as you know. But that’s fine. I’ll wait. Eventually, you’ll realize there’s no one better for you than me.”
“Sir, I must insist you cease with the flattery.” She’d wanted to ease into this conversation, but they might as well do it now, while they sat outside her house. “You see, I’ve given this some thought and—”
“You’ll come around.” Montague sent her a heated look. “Until then, I shall make do with stealing you away for times such as this.” He clicked his tongue, setting the horses in motion.
Obnoxious man. On paper, Montague checked every box on her list. But his apparent desire for her made her own plans for marriage entirely incompatible. No matter how handsome he was or how beautiful their children would be, she didn’t want that life. She didn’t want his adoration. Or his babies, come to think of it.
She tried again as the carriage sped toward the park. “As you know, our fathers desire a match between us. However, after some reflection—”
“The earl was ecstatic when I wrote him. I sent an express messenger the day I saw you on Bond Street. He’s given his blessing.”
“Excuse me?” She gaped at his presumption. Surely her father would never give consent without first consulting her. Not after she’d already declined this exact match. The disquiet in her heart stirred when Montague ignored her question in favor of navigating the phaeton through the streets of Mayfair. The verdant expanse of Hyde Park sprawled before them. Without a pause, Montague guided the horses past the park gates as they approached Oxford Street.
“Wait, I thought we were going to the park.” Over her shoulder, the bustling acres of Hyde Park shrank behind them.
“I have a different drive in mind for today. Trust me.” Montague signaled the team to a higher speed, away from Mayfair.
Trust him? Not bloody likely. Amesbury’s warning about Montague rang in her head. “Mr. Montague, I insist you take me home. If you don’t plan to drive in the park as planned, then this outing is finished.” City blocks of businesses passed, then houses. Hedgerows dotted the distance, and still they continued.
“You worry too much. We’re almost there,” Montague insisted.
“Sir, turn these horses around at once.” Who cared if her voice was shrill when the blasted man continued down the road in the opposite direction of where they should be going.
“Not to worry, pet. I’m sure you’re concerned about your reputation. But as an engaged couple, we can enjoy a nice drive in an open carriage.” He snapped the lines, pushing the horses to go faster.
“Not out into the countryside! And we aren’t engaged. We will never be engaged, which is what I was trying to say, but you kept interrupting!” There. Her chest deflated as she sighed with relief at finally getting the words out. She could have been more diplomatic, but the man was obstinate to the extreme. There was no way to misinterpret her wishes now.
“That’s not what your father says. Sit back and enjoy the drive. You said you prefer the country, so I planned this just for you.” Montague turned off the main byway, onto a rutted path.
“My father is not the one who’d have to marry you, and I’ve just said that I won’t. We aren’t getting married. Not now, not ever.” She bit the words out while her brain scrambled for a plan. At least they were off the main road, thus not going farther from London.
The phaeton didn’t handle this terrain well. But then, a rocky trail with nubby clumps of grass and soil couldn’t be what the engineers had had in mind when designing it. Lottie gripped the seat edge until her knuckles were white, and counted her breaths. In, one, two, three. Out, one, two, three. What was she going to do?
At what point did a situation become kidnapping? There had to be a way to get him to take her home. She could guess at how far they’d gone, but she didn’t know for sure. If she jumped down and made a run for it, there was only the road back—which left her open to him following her. If she played along long enough to get out of here, she need never see this man again.
The horses slowed, coming to rest in a grassy clearing surrounded by trees. A serene pond reflected the vibrant colors of autumn. Montague nimbly jumped down, then turned to lift her out of the carriage, but she tightened her grip on the seat and stayed put. “Mr. Montague—”
“James. My name is James. I ache to hear you say it.” He gripped her hips, dragging her to the edge of the seat, sending the whole contraption rocking again.
“James.” She gritted her teeth and held on tighter to the wood. “You brought me out here even though I asked to go home. We’re here. And yes, it’s lovely. Now I’d like to return to London immediately.”
“This isn’t how you were supposed to be,” Montague grumbled.
“Terribly sorry to disappoint,” she snapped. Staring him down, she waited for him to climb back into the phaeton. Instead, he glared, then walked toward the trees and stood with his back to her. When he widened his stance, she grimaced, then looked away.
While Montague took a piss a few feet to her left, Lottie stared at the bucolic view and wrestled her irritation under control. This place was beautiful, even though she didn’t want to be here. It reminded her of home, which brought to mind the letter from the steward. Her new house might have a view accompanied by the sound of the sea crashing on the rocks below her window.
If Lottie could make herself say yes to this man, then write to her father this evening,
