“I don’t suppose you are in need of company for the road?” James asked as he eyed the young man’s dirty clothing and muddy boots. From the cut of his cloth, the boy was in need of funds and James was in need of an outrider.
“I wouldn’t say no but I don’t sit well in a fancy carriage. I assume that one in the stables is yours?”
“It is. My man has taken ill and I require someone reliable to lag behind. Someone who will ride like the devil to warn me if there is pursuit.”
“Are you running from someone? The girl? Don’t tell me you were to be leg-shackled too?”
“It is a very long and a very complicated story,” James said with a sigh. Already the ale had prompted him to do something he normally would not. The lad was a stranger. What if he lied about the girl in London and followed them for the captain or Sir Anthony?
James took another look at Patrick but the ale was beginning to make the lad look as though he was about thirty-five, with four eyes and two heads. He’d had more than was wise. “Sleep first and we can decide in the morning. If we’re all going the same way anyway, we may as well make a traveling party.” He sounded like a fop or a dandy. Damn it all to hell. Two days with Miss Germaine and he was not himself at all. What would more than twelve do to him, he wondered…
Chapter Eight
When Daniella awoke the next morning, Mrs McDougal snored softly in her pallet but none of her previous colour had returned. In fact, the woman still looked more than a little green and her skin was coated with a slick sheen of sweat.
Good, thought Daniella, breathing only through her mouth to escape the God-awful smell. It was uncharitable but between pounding the feather stuffing from her pillow, and tossing and turning for half the night, she had come to the conclusion that being alone with Trelissick might be the very thing to push her to her limits of patience but it would do wonders to the gossip. If even one person saw them alone, either alighting the carriage or taking lunch together, word would travel and the closer they got to the border, the better chances her father would have of hearing it.
If she’d only known she could have provoked the marquess to kidnap her a lot sooner.
She rolled from the bed and began to put on the ridiculous dress from the day before. She knew it was fruitless to think she could manage on her own but she tried anyway.
Before long, the lock turned and the door opened a fraction. “Are you awake?”
“You can come in.” He really wasn’t a very good kidnapper. He hadn’t even checked to see if the window opened (it did) or how far the drop was to the ground (she could have made it without breaking bones). She could have escaped, stolen one of his horses, and been halfway back to London or off to Scotland before anyone knew she had left.
Daniella wanted to smugly point out his shortcomings but wisely refrained by biting down on her bottom lip. She still hadn’t decided in her own mind how much control he actually had and how much he thought he did.
“You will need to help me with my dress.” She gave him her back and stood completely still as he did the buttons. This time she ignored the warmth of his fingers and his breath on her neck. “Did you bring any other gowns for me?”
“No.”
“I can’t wear this one for the whole journey. And what of the cold as we approach Scotland? I thought you said you were a great schemer.”
“I have been to war, madam, not Scotland. Men do not complain about the cold when their very lives are in danger.”
She smiled at his tone, at his outrage that she could doubt his skills. “Well?” she prompted.
He finished with her buttons and went to lean over Mrs McDougal where she still lay. “The innkeeper says there is a village ahead with a celebrated dressmaker. We will stop there for whatever you need.”
“We don’t have the time to wait around.”
“Then you had better hope the proprietor has something already made.”
She hoped the dressmaker had trousers already made.
“Come, we will break fast and then be on our way.”
He was very abrupt this morning, not at all the man who had chuckled the night before and left her room in fear of his reputation. He was more the army major facing a day of bloodshed with a dark shadow on his jaw and red rims around his eyes. He actually looked half ferocious in the dawn light. No, not ferocious. Boiling with frustration.
Daniella shivered and cold fingers of foreboding squeezed at her nape.
They weren’t anywhere near far enough from London to breathe easy over pursuit. The pie sickness and today’s gown shopping were going to put them behind but she couldn’t face Scotland without warm clothing. She couldn’t keep facing Trelissick with her borrowed dress sagging either.
They left Mrs McDougal and Hobson upstairs and headed down to a small dining room, Daniella hidden in the cloak from the day before. Her stomach growled despite the fact she had received an overflowing tray of supper delivered the previous night.
When they entered the room, flooded with morning light and smelling divinely like tea and toast, Daniella stopped so abruptly Trelissick bumped into her.
“This room seems to be occupied.”
Trelissick pushed her farther into the room with a hand at the small of her back and then closed the door. “This is Patrick. He is going to take Hobson’s place for a few days.”
“Hello, Patrick, I am—Oomph.” She whirled and glared at Trelissick, who had shoved her. Hard.
“Well, my lord?” She would do his bidding but she
