His father never asked for more than his unending commitment to the Trelissick name and then the Lasterton title. If James hadn’t been filled with ambition, he would have been there to save both his brother and his father. Instead, he had been at war, killing, maiming, working for his mad king and uncaring country. It was almost as if his father thought him the same as Daniella did. An officer sitting in a tent while the men around him charged to their deaths.
Instead of preventing their disgrace, he had added to it. Rumours of the Butcher had drifted back to his homeland even before John’s murderous rampage. Soldiers whispered to their families that he was a saviour, the last resort when the battle had gone against them in Egypt and the field needed to be levelled back out again. Some of the ton worried that the bloodshed had gone to his head, that these interloper Trelissicks would never easily wear the shoes a dead cousin had vacated. Those were the people who were closer in their character assessment of him.
He was the assassin who moved about in the night and eliminated enemies in silence, without conscience or regret.
And while he was killing Bonaparte loyalists, his brother had been killing his father and their good name. Perhaps he should have dragged John with him into the army.
“Are you going to answer me?”
He snapped his gaze back to Daniella. He hadn’t even heard her question.
“Why did you let that woman believe we are lovers? Why not a husband and wife?”
James didn’t want to consider that too closely, so he went on the attack. “Why did you auction your innocence? You had to know there would be other consequences if your father didn’t succumb and give you your way. What would your brother do? Beat you? Lock you up? Send you away? Perhaps seeing you live secluded as a nun would be preferable to your father than having you back on his ship?”
She bit her lip and he knew satisfaction. She hadn’t considered that either. Silly girl.
“Why did your father leave you in England if he no longer sails? Why not settle and let you pick your choice of a husband from a nearby town?”
“He no longer sails as a pirate. I do believe he makes occasional runs off the coast for provisions but he no longer sails for Spain or anyone else.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“And you still haven’t answered mine. I could have been your niece, your ward, your neighbour, a woman you found on the road. It makes no sense.”
“It isn’t supposed to make sense. As I said, a different story in every village. It will help us if there is pursuit. In one town they will look for a man with his ward, in the next they are looking for a marquess—my thanks to you for revealing that by the way—and his paramour. In the next they will not know to look for a lord and his servants. It helps to cover our tracks with confusion. I don’t need anyone to catch up with us until we reach Scotland, and nor do you.” It’s why they weren’t taking any direct route, zigzagging slightly from shire to shire but staying close to the coast. “Now, why did you not honour your father’s wishes and simply marry a respectable man, if you won’t tell me why he insisted you do so in London?”
“I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I believe I shall rest my eyes for a spell.”
“Eventually you have to tell me the full story, Daniella.”
“No, I don’t.” She closed her eyes, effectively shutting him out from her thoughts, and leaned her head back against the squabs.
There had to be more to it than what she told him. What woman after reaching the sparkling beauty of the ton would not want to be a part of it? Some part of his mind whispered that the women of the ton were about as useless as second sons but it was different for men. Women of upper society only had to keep their beauty, have at least two sons and run a household in order to live an easy life. Daniella was lucky her brother had been knighted otherwise she might have wound up cleaning chamber pots.
Why didn’t she see her father had done her a favour by leaving her in London? That he wanted the best for his only daughter?
Until James got the whole story, the whys and what ifs would be unsatisfying and as endless as eternity.
*
Daniella did her best to pretend to be asleep but the farce was short-lived. When they were only hours from their next stop for the night, the carriage jolted and then shuddered as it came to a sudden stop, the horses whinnying their discontent.
Trelissick had his head out of the door as he yelled up to the driver’s box. “What is going on? Why have we stopped?”
It was Hobson who answered. “There’s a tree in the road, and we won’t get past until we shift it.”
Trelissick snatched his head back into the carriage and closed the door. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “Do not move or speak. If anything happens to me, run into the woods and stay hidden. Wait there until Patrick catches up.”
“Why? What is it?”
“A fallen tree blocks the road when there has been no storm and no wind? This could be a trap.”
“By my father?” she asked hopefully.
“Not by your bloody father,” he hissed. “How would he get ahead of us to set a trap?”
“Give me a gun then: I can help.”
“No. You stay here.” He stood and reached under the seat where he sat and pulled out a small pistol. He checked the shot and then stuck it in the back of his trousers, tucking his dark coat back over it before looking at her one last time, his glittering gaze fierce. “Stay.”
Daniella thought about it for all of three seconds after he left
