by Amelia Grey
“I have a blanket if you think you need it,” he offered, settling his body beside hers.
“Not right now.” She knew from their last ride that being next to him would make her warm.
He nodded, and with a light tap of the ribbons on the horses’ rumps, a slight jerk, and a familiar rattle of harness, the carriage started rolling down the street lined with cozy houses and perfectly kept lawns. There was something comforting about the familiar sounds of the wheels and harness, the smell of new and old leather, and horses lingering in the air, and there was something infinitely satisfying about sitting beside a man. No, she corrected her thought, sitting beside this man.
Mr. Inwood’s attention had made her even more aware of how different she felt when she was with the earl. Like it or not, he was the one she was attracted to.
They rode in silence for a few moments before Blacknight looked over at her and asked, “What do you think?”
“Smooth as a hand gliding across silk,” she said with a smile. “Your uncle had an excellent carriage built, my lord.” Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, they hit a bump that startled her. She laughed and added, “If only the roads were as even as the wheels.”
He laughed, too, as the horses clopped along. “I am getting used to being called my lord, but I’m not sure I’ll ever like it.”
“I would assume most peers appreciate the respect it shows.”
“The problem is that I’m finding it hard to give up a name I’ve used for close to thirty years.”
“Yes,” she said. “I know exactly how you feel. Women do it when they marry and take their husband’s last name.”
He glanced at her and grinned. “I didn’t think about it that way, but you’re right. However, women don’t change their first names and I don’t want to change mine. It’s difficult that it’s not my choice, but I will comply. I will be my lord or Blacknight to family, peers, and to the ton, but I want you to call me Zane.”
Brina blinked rapidly as she contemplated what that meant, and she felt as if a shield suddenly protected her. She would be giving up some of the distance Society had put between them if she agreed to his suggestion. She didn’t need to be that close to him. It was an intimate endearment to call a man by his first name unless he was a family member or childhood friend.
“I couldn’t possibly do that. It wouldn’t be right.”
“Not always,” he said in casual tone. “Only when we’re alone together.” He glanced back to the road as they passed a carriage on the other side. “To others, you will continue to be Mrs. Feld. I’ll call you Brina and you call me Zane.”
The set of his strong jaw told her he was serious, but how could she possibly agree to something that simply wasn’t done? Once a man gained a title, his first name was all but forgotten.
“You go too far, my lord. That would make us too familiar with each other.”
“I’m all right with that.” He turned toward her again, his expression serious, but not somber. “We can be ourselves with each other. Not a name someone else has given us. No Mrs. No lord. No title for either of us.”
Her heart started racing at the thought. As horrific as it seemed, she liked that idea. She didn’t want to be Mrs. Feld when she was with him. She wasn’t married, yet she was a Mrs. She wanted to be Brina. But how could she agree to something so unacceptable to the elite of Society? Especially when she had promised to do all she could to see that Blacknight handled everything the proper way.
“Are you pondering?” he asked.
“Yes,” she answered honestly.
“Fair enough. Think about it. In the meantime, I’ll call you Brina.”
Her name sounded nice coming from him. Proper or not. She settled more comfortably into the expensive leather-covered cushion and enjoyed the ride for a short time before saying, “You’re suspiciously quiet. I hope you’re not thinking about more rules you can break.”
“I suppose I’ll always break a rule once in a while, but I’ll be careful which ones I do.”
“Be sure that you do,” she answered playfully, and then added with a mischievous grin, “I’m watching you.”
“So is all of London, it seems,” he mumbled under his breath, before turning to look over his shoulder again.
“You might like to know I saw your cousin Robert at a party a couple of nights ago.”
“Was he behaving himself?”
“As far as I could tell. He was with Harper again. Both are quite accomplished young men and handle themselves well. They didn’t stay very long, which surprised me. Apparently, they were eager to rush through the buffet and get to a card game.”
The earl seemed to think on that for a few moments as he looked straight ahead, but for some reason it caused him to frown. “Did either of them happen to say where it was? The game they were joining?”
“No. But they seemed more interested in it than the bevy of young ladies who were there hoping one, if not both, would pay them some notice. Which neither did. They spoke, but I didn’t see either one giving the ladies serious attention. It’s the Season, and belles want to be courted by such handsome, sought-after gentlemen as they are. Perhaps when you stopped Mr. Browning from marrying in Paris, it put him off romance.”
Blacknight shrugged. “It does appear the two friends are more interested in their games right now, but that’s not so unusual. All men want to be good at the tables.”
Their behavior hadn’t seemed normal to Brina. Certainly not Harper’s anyway. He’d always flattered the ladies with his cheerful smiles, and he’d never really been into cards and gambling—until he befriended Mr. Browning. For a moment, she thought she might tell the earl that but decided against it. She was sure he didn’t want to hear his cousin was a bad influence on hers. Blacknight was probably as fond of his cousin as Brina was of Harper.
When they turned toward the business district of St. James’s, the earl glanced at her and said, “Look behind us and tell me if you see a cabriolet in the distance.”
She peered over her shoulder nearest Zane and caught the scents of his clean-shaven face and the fine wool coat, and it distracted her for a moment. “Yes. Why do you ask?”
“I saw it out of the corner of my eye when we made the turn. It’s the same one that was parked on the street when we left your house.”
She huffed a breath of doubt. “How can you know that?”
“A man knows carriages, Brina. Especially ones that aren’t well-maintained.”
She accepted the simple answer. “Is there something wrong with him falling in line behind us?”
“Not if that is all he’s doing.”
“Perhaps, like us, he’s going nowhere specific and simply riding around to appreciate the lovely day.”
“That’s unlikely. If I slow down, he does. When I speed up, he does. I’m going to turn at the next street, which will put us going back in the direction we were coming from. Watch and tell me if he does the same.”
That had her interest. After they made the turn, she strained her neck to keep looking and suddenly the cabriolet came into sight. “Yes,” she said, growing more intrigued by what was happening. “It’s still behind us.”
Glancing her way, he frowned again and said, “I think we’re being followed. I’ve had that feeling for the past couple of days. I’ve started watching my surroundings. In addition to spyglasses, as you mentioned, tailing people is one of the ways scandal sheets get the information they publish.”
An uneasy feeling stole over Brina. Suddenly, she wanted to scoot closer to Zane and away from prying eyes. She wanted to reach over and lay her hand on his shoulder or his knee, anywhere as long as she felt his strength and comfort. But, if whoever was in that carriage actually followed them, it was best she not move.
“I’ve heard some people will go to extraordinary lengths to get gossip for their columns,” she said, remembering some of the outlandish stories that had been written over the years, such as gentlemen having been
seen jumping out of bedroom windows. “It’s abhorrent really.”
“Men have wagered a lot of money on whether or not you will accept my proposal by the end of the Season,” Zane said. “Whether they win or lose depends on what I do or don’t do.”
“Because of the demands I put on you?”
“No,” he said firmly. “You share no blame in this. It started by me making that first wager.” He glanced over to her. “You have no need to worry that you are being watched when I’m not with you. It’s not you they’re worried about.”
“You think someone is trying to catch you playing cards, having a sip of wine or—” It was odd and it really should mean nothing to her but she didn’t want to think about him being with a woman.
“Yes. All of it. That’s the way some men are. Unscrupulous men. It’s no longer only the members of White’s who have entered into the gaming of the original wager and the one between us. Others have taken them and made their own bets. Some men will either win or lose small fortunes depending on the outcome.”
“I heard that too. It’s appalling that so many people are gaming on the outcome of our situation. You’ll probably have someone watching you every day now. I didn’t think about that.”
He smiled. “I can handle the tailing, Brina. It matters not to me that I’m shadowed. But if anyone should start bothering you, I’ll have to get involved.”
Brina believed he would but really, what could he do?
They rode in silence for a few minutes. Long enough for her thoughts to expand on how outrageous people were being and for apprehensiveness to morph into outrage. She didn’t like the idea of anyone invading her privacy. And for their own gain!
Their privacy.
She looked over at him and said, “It’s true you started this wager, but now we are in it together. The nerve of some gossip-seeking scoundrel wanting to spy on us, no matter the reason, is beyond the pale.”
“It could be someone who only wants to write about where we’re going and what we’re doing. It may not have anything to do with whether or not I take a drink or slip in a hand of cards.”
“It’s still wrong to spy on us. Speed up and we’ll lose him.”
Zane glanced at her and gave a questioning grin. “I can’t believe you said that. Gentlemen are not supposed to drive fast when a lady is with them.”
He was right, of course. She was being quite scandalous for a lady of the ton to suggest such a thing. “No. However, as you and I have established, some rules don’t apply to us. Not today anyway. I’m not happy we are being followed.”
“You aren’t afraid to go fast?”
She thought about that. “No. I don’t think so. I can’t say I’ve ever been in a curricle that has been driven very fast. A coach once when Stewart and I were traveling to his brother’s estate. We were running late, and he told the driver not to hold the leather. I don’t remember it as being frightful.”
“Speeding along in this lightweight carriage would be nothing like a fast jostling ride on a coach loaded with people and trunks.”
She glanced over her shoulder again. The cabriolet was still behind them. Though he wasn’t close, she could see there was only one man in the carriage. His hat and cloak were black, but she couldn’t tell much else about him.
Brina gave him a defiant stare for a moment before stating firmly, “Let’s lose him, Zane.”
He angled his head toward her, his expression pensive. “I like your idea, but it would be too dangerous. Curricles can turn over easily.”
“Are you not skillful with them and horses?”
“One of the best,” he answered without sounding the least bit boastful.
“Then forget chivalry and let’s do it. You are absolved of any responsibility for anything that may happen, Zane.”
He seemed to study on that for a moment before sighing and then saying, “It won’t be the first time I’ve done something dangerous. First, you must secure yourself. Feet flat to the floor. Take off your gloves and grab hold of the seat handle and—” He took his elbow and pushed his coat aside. “Grab hold of the waistband of my trousers.” He stopped and smiled. “Don’t worry. I’ll be managing the reins so I’m not likely to accost you.”
“That’s not what I was thinking,” she said, and then added, “I was wondering why I should take off my gloves.”
“It’s necessary. Your gloves aren’t leather. The fabric might slip on the handle causing you to lose your grip. You need a firm, solid hold. Don’t be shy. If we’re going to do this, we have to do it right and with all caution for your safety.”
She quickly took off her gloves, stuffed them into the pocket of her cape, and looked back to him for more instructions.
“One hand on the arm of the seat and with the other, slide your fingers about two inches past my waistband. Make a fist and don’t let go for anything. We’ll be taking some corners fast. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Excitement built inside her. Instead of fleeing down underground tunnels in an old chateau with him, she would be speeding down the streets of London in a carriage with him.
Without further thought, she reached over and lifted the tail of his waistcoat and slid all four of her fingers between his shirt and trousers. His body was firm, lean, and warm as a winter fire. Closing her thumb around the outside of the fabric, she made a tight fist. She then steadied herself with her feet. She realized this was as intimate and as outrageous as calling an earl by his first name. It simply wasn’t done. But for some reason, it felt freeing to make the decision to do it anyway.
Zane spread his legs. From the bottom of her hip to her knee, his thigh pressed tightly against hers. His warmth made her want to slip closer to him and snuggle deep into his strong, protective embrace.
His hands squeezed the reins. “Don’t let go of me for any reason.”
Brina gripped his trousers and the handle tighter and smiled at him. “I’ll manage myself. You handle the horses.”
“One. Two. Three.”
The earl brought the reins down hard and yelled. The curricle lurched, and then jolted violently. She was thrown backward and then forward as the horses took off galloping. Wind whipped her face and tore at her bonnet. The road suddenly became bumpier, at times lifting Brina out of her seat. They came up quickly behind two riders. Zane didn’t slow his pace but pulled on the reins and directed the horses around them.
“Slow down, you bloody jug-bitten hell-bounder!” one of the men shouted with his fist raised and pumping in the air.
Brina looked back at him and yelled, “Have some heart, you pickle-head! We’re in a hurry!”
She heard Zane laughing and looked at him again. His concentration was on the horses, but he said, “Did you call him a pickle-head?”
Yes. She did. It surprised her too. It was so unlike her to be adventurous in her attitude. Being with Zane had her thinking and doing things she wouldn’t have done or said before.
And it all felt natural.
“He deserved it.” Brina braved another glance over her shoulder as the curricle raced along. Through the space between the angry riders, she could see the cabriolet. “Faster,” she exclaimed excitedly. “He’s still chasing us.”
“Not for long.”
Zane drew back hard on the reins, working them back and forth, pulling hard to the right, slowing the horses quickly. Brina’s heart raced. She should have been scared out of her wits, but she was enjoying the bumpy, thrilling contest to escape the person trying to spy on them.
They turned the corner and the horses almost careened into a parked milk wagon. Brina’s heart thundered. The action threw her against Zane’s shoulder, but she held on as seconds later, she was thrown in the other direction.
She gasped.
Zane paid her no mind but kept his attention on the horses and maneuvered them out of harm’s way and sped them up again. In no time, they were galloping fast again, flying past the buildings, more riders, a closed chaise, and a wagon loaded
with baskets of vegetables.
“Did he make the turn?” Zane asked, the wind taking away some of his words.
She twisted around to look. “I don’t see him—no wait!” Exhilaration bubbled in her chest. “Yes, it’s him.” The driver’s arms were beating up and down as he let the reins slam against his horses. “He’s still following. What are we going to do?”
“Don’t worry and don’t let go!”
Zane guided the horses to the far lane to bypass a mule and wagon and a very important-looking barouche with a fancy family crest on the door. Brina heard more shouts, but the earl paid no mind to them and kept his attention on manning the horses. She decided not to respond to the angry men and break Zane’s concentration.
When Brina couldn’t see the cabriolet, she started to relax but suddenly a landau pulled into traffic and headed directly toward them. Her heart felt as if it jumped to her throat and was strangling her. The horses’ hooves pounded the earth like drums in her ears, the harness sounded as if it rattled deeply in her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut, certain the carriages were going to crash together and kill everyone.
But then Zane’s warm leg pressed tighter against her. She felt his solid strength, heard his labored breathing, and sensed his focus and capabilities. A calm settled over her. She opened her eyes and sat upright in the seat again, watching as Zane pushed the horses to go faster and expertly pulled in front of the barouche a moment before they would have collided with the landau’s horses.
Both drivers shouted obscenities.
Zane paid them no mind.
Caught up in the excitement, Brina was tempted to hurl insults right back at them, but once again refrained.
They were coming up fast behind a hackney. Zane slowed the horses and took another turn. At the very next street crossing, he took another, and then another. He seemed to know when to let the horses have their head and when to pull tight.
After taking several different roads, they came upon one with no traffic and much smaller buildings. Zane slowed the horses even more as another turn took them into a housing district. Brina loosened her grip on the seat handle and let go of his trousers and flexed her fingers. Her breathing calmed perceptibly, and she started relaxing again.
