Chapter Nine
The trip to Worcester felt agonizingly slow to James. He was desperately tired and wanted to doze but he just could not relax enough to let his guard down when it came to Daniella. He still had no clue as to why she was so…so…willing. He simply could not accept that any woman would prefer shipboard life to a settled home with a comfortable husband and children to love. All women were born with that ambition stitched into their bones and no unconventional upbringing or hoydenish streak could pick it out.
Daniella’s attitude in the last day or so showed she was confident she held the power in their exchange. She had shown the ton she was a spoiled brat in need of a firm hand, and possibly a spanking, but as she sat opposite him, her back straight, her little chin high in the air, he wondered just what her strength and stubbornness would cost him. And his family.
He shook his head and let it fall back once again against the squabs. He hoped he was doing the right thing in all of this. Never would he just give up. As long as there was the hope that his mother and sister were alive then he would fight.
As the carriage began to slow beneath him, James lifted the curtain back on the window to reveal cottages and pastures sown with the season’s crops soaking up a light rain. They were approaching the edge of the town and he figured now was the best time to lay down the law with Daniella.
When he glanced back to where she sat at the end of the bench on the corner furthest from the door, she glared right back at him. He wondered if she was still upset that he hadn’t shared all of his intentions with her. His current plan really was very simple. If any rumours were to reach ears in London, they would be so scattered and puzzling that no one would know which were true and which were lies. Then when he returned to London, indeed if he returned, the wildest of the gossip could be laughed off and the tamer could be woven into a credible story. No irrevocable damage would have been done to his sister’s name or, for that matter, to Daniella’s. She might profess not to care but as a man of honour he would not contribute to the wrecking of a lady’s prospects.
Gossip was hideous. A person’s reputation could be irretrievably lost if a rumour was strong enough—truth rarely came into it. Indeed the harder a person fought to deny the gossip, the guiltier she appeared. For twelve months James had laboured to restore his family name, to restore dignity and honour so his sister could make a good match and they could each go about their lives. He wanted to see his beloved family again, but he knew restoring them without too much malicious chatter was his obligation as much as it was his desire.
“Do you know,” her voice sounded as if from a distance, pulling him back to the carriage, to their predicament, “if you told me what it is my father has of yours, it would make it easier for me to assist you.”
He shook his head again. “I don’t need your assistance for that. Only your directions after we cross the border.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he held his hand up between them. “Although your cooperation does help.”
She snapped her mouth shut.
“When we arrive at the modiste, we must be quick. I want to be back on the road within the hour.”
“And what if there are no dresses ready-made?”
He looked her up and down from her dainty, albeit ruined, slippers to his sister’s ill-fitting dress right up to her wild untamed hair. “You had better hope there are. And get yourself a hairbrush and pins as well.”
Self-conscious at his words, she reached up to smooth her hair but then seemed to think the better of it, her hand dropping back to her lap. “Anything else, Your Majesty?”
He was saved when the carriage came to a stop and Hobson opened the door. He was still pale but appeared to be holding up.
“We’re here, milord.”
“Good. One hour is all we have. Hobson, I’ll need you to gather us some food so we don’t have to stop again until sunset. Patrick can stand guard by the carriage and Willie can stay where he is just in case we have to depart quickly.” He waited for Hobson to nod his understanding and then turned back to Daniella. “Are you ready?”
“What is my part to be today?”
“I think you will be my paramour in need of a more suitable wardrobe.”
Her lips lifted at the edges. “It is as well I plan never to return to your precious London, then.”
“Just play along.”
She nodded once but the smile never left her lips.
“And please don’t improvise. The less you say, the better it will be and the less identifiable we will be to anyone asking after us. Let me do the talking.”
“As you wish.”
Her easy acquiescence was a concern but they didn’t have time to stand about and argue.
When James jumped to the ground to hand her out, Patrick had caught them up and reined in his mount, waiting for his orders.
“I’ll need you stay here and stand guard with Willie. If we’re not out in one hour, come rushing in with an urgent message.”
Patrick raised his brows but nodded and made himself more comfortable in the saddle.
Daniella emerged, put her hand in his, and let him help her to the
