carriage rumbled beneath Marguerite with an unsettling rhythm she was coming to know much too well. With a small sigh, she parted the curtains and stared miserably out at the snow-covered landscape.
They’d been together for three days now. Her ship for Spain would have long since departed without her. Roger probably thought she had changed her mind and lacked the courage to face him and tell him so herself.
Courtland had been true to his word. He presented her with a sound argument for a name-in-only marriage at every opportunity. Independence, freedom to do what she wished, go where she wished. Tempting indeed. Only Madame Foster’s words gave her pause, stopped her from agreeing to what was sounding more and more an ideal arrangement.
Of course, she wondered if eschewing intimacy meant she would avert her fated death. Sighing, she rubbed her temples. It was enough to make her head throb.
Escape was her only recourse.
Courtland never left her unguarded. Whenever he stepped from her side he made certain someone was there. Either the driver, the footman, or someone else he paid to hover over her.
“Just seeing that you keep your word,” he had archly reminded her when she protested.
Blast her for promising to consider his offer! “I retract my promise. Take me home.”
Those dark eyes of his had drilled into her so darkly then, flat and motionless as a midnight sea. She’d strained for a glimpse of something beneath the liquid dark, a flicker of his thoughts. “Is that honor to you? Making promises and then discarding them when convenient?”
Rather than scream, she had looked away then, reminding herself that she was not a woman given to tantrums. They had not spoken since.
She supposed an ordinary woman might have accepted her fate. It wasn’t as though she was being forced to wed a hideous figure of a man, after all. He was handsome. He possessed funds enough to outfit her in a lifestyle she never dared dream for herself.
And yet, ever since her collision with Madame Foster, her life had taken a decidedly extraordinary turn.
Ash seemed to relax as London fell farther and farther behind. His shoulders lost some of their rigidity. Not that she thought anyone would follow them. Certainly, the father she had yet to meet would care little for the daughter who failed to fall in line with his schemes.
Courtland’s growing ease would be to her advantage. She was resourceful. She had not survived years at Penwich without using her wits. She’d outsmart Ash yet. She could still break free and find her way back to London, back to Roger. Once she explained everything, he would doubtless reschedule their adventure. There was still time.
“A village lies ahead. We’ll rest and dine there while we change out the horses.”
She nodded, a cloud of breath fogging at her lips. Winter managed to penetrate the well-appointed carriage. She couldn’t imagine the level of cold she’d be enduring if she weren’t traveling in such comfort. Heated bricks warmed her feet and a thick blanket covered her lap. Every morning he draped the blanket on her lap, tucking it around her as if she were a child. She always sat still, astounded at the care he took, struggling to refrain from softening toward him. She couldn’t forget this was the same ruthless man who had abducted her.
She flexed her gloved fingers inside the soft ermine muff atop her lap and stared at him, searching for something unlikeable in his handsome face. A hard-eyed cruelty, a tight-lipped savagery ready to unleash itself on her. Not that she wanted to be harmed … she simply wanted him to be less … appealing.
He’d found her appropriate attire for the cold climate and days of hard travel. That he had taken such consideration of her added to her unease.
No one had ever taken care of her before. Her earliest memories were of spending all her energies on her mother, seeing that she did not languish in the neglect of Jack Hadley. It was a full-time
They’d been together for three days now. Her ship for Spain would have long since departed without her. Roger probably thought she had changed her mind and lacked the courage to face him and tell him so herself.
Courtland had been true to his word. He presented her with a sound argument for a name-in-only marriage at every opportunity. Independence, freedom to do what she wished, go where she wished. Tempting indeed. Only Madame Foster’s words gave her pause, stopped her from agreeing to what was sounding more and more an ideal arrangement.
Of course, she wondered if eschewing intimacy meant she would avert her fated death. Sighing, she rubbed her temples. It was enough to make her head throb.
Escape was her only recourse.
Courtland never left her unguarded. Whenever he stepped from her side he made certain someone was there. Either the driver, the footman, or someone else he paid to hover over her.
“Just seeing that you keep your word,” he had archly reminded her when she protested.
Blast her for promising to consider his offer! “I retract my promise. Take me home.”
Those dark eyes of his had drilled into her so darkly then, flat and motionless as a midnight sea. She’d strained for a glimpse of something beneath the liquid dark, a flicker of his thoughts. “Is that honor to you? Making promises and then discarding them when convenient?”
Rather than scream, she had looked away then, reminding herself that she was not a woman given to tantrums. They had not spoken since.
She supposed an ordinary woman might have accepted her fate. It wasn’t as though she was being forced to wed a hideous figure of a man, after all. He was handsome. He possessed funds enough to outfit her in a lifestyle she never dared dream for herself.
And yet, ever since her collision with Madame Foster, her life had taken a decidedly extraordinary turn.
Ash seemed to relax as London fell farther and farther behind. His shoulders lost some of their rigidity. Not that she thought anyone would follow them. Certainly, the father she had yet to meet would care little for the daughter who failed to fall in line with his schemes.
Courtland’s growing ease would be to her advantage. She was resourceful. She had not survived years at Penwich without using her wits. She’d outsmart Ash yet. She could still break free and find her way back to London, back to Roger. Once she explained everything, he would doubtless reschedule their adventure. There was still time.
“A village lies ahead. We’ll rest and dine there while we change out the horses.”
She nodded, a cloud of breath fogging at her lips. Winter managed to penetrate the well-appointed carriage. She couldn’t imagine the level of cold she’d be enduring if she weren’t traveling in such comfort. Heated bricks warmed her feet and a thick blanket covered her lap. Every morning he draped the blanket on her lap, tucking it around her as if she were a child. She always sat still, astounded at the care he took, struggling to refrain from softening toward him. She couldn’t forget this was the same ruthless man who had abducted her.
She flexed her gloved fingers inside the soft ermine muff atop her lap and stared at him, searching for something unlikeable in his handsome face. A hard-eyed cruelty, a tight-lipped savagery ready to unleash itself on her. Not that she wanted to be harmed … she simply wanted him to be less … appealing.
He’d found her appropriate attire for the cold climate and days of hard travel. That he had taken such consideration of her added to her unease.
No one had ever taken care of her before. Her earliest memories were of spending all her energies on her mother, seeing that she did not languish in the neglect of Jack Hadley. It was a full-time
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