Laying a hand on Mama’s shoulder, Papa said quietly, “Louisa, why don’t you go with her? We’ll be reunited again in London.”
Charlie’s heart pinched. Their reunion had been so brief. It was impossible, in any case. “There isn’t enough room,” she said. “Not since Lieutenant Stills has opted to join.”
Anthony turned an arch expression on his second-in-command. The man’s mien remained unflappable. He hadn’t changed his mind, even knowing that he stood between them and a clear solution.
Mama stepped between Charlie and Lieutenant Stills. To the navy officer, she pleaded, “Sir, won’t you reconsider? I would not ask if not for the safety of my daughter. Captain Graylocke has stated it; who will command the ship while you are away?”
Lieutenant Stills inclined his head. “I will leave the ship in the very capable hands of my second-in-command. I promise, your needs will be well met. However, I cannot reconsider my position. At best, I can give you my word that Miss Vale will come to no harm while under my and Captain Graylocke’s protection.”
Shaking her head, Mama crossed her arms and rounded on Charlie. “Then you absolutely cannot go. Alone with two men? It is unseemly!”
“You would go,” Charlie protested. “How would that be any different? Simply because you are married?”
“Because I am older and wiser,” Mama answered, her jaw clenched. Her eyes snapped with determination.
Unfortunately for her, she had raised a daughter every bit as stubborn. Charlie held her ground. “I don’t care if it is unwise. I don’t care if it will damage my reputation. All I care about is doing the right thing, and you can’t stop me.”
“You are still my daughter—”
“I’m old enough to make my own decisions!”
Harried, Mama turned to Papa. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Help me talk some sense into her. Or do you want her to run off without us?”
“Of course I don’t,” Papa answered. He stepped forward to lay an arm around Mama’s shoulders. “But Louisa, she’s right. She isn’t a child anymore. It’s been very clear to me since we reunited that she is an accomplished, levelheaded young woman. She knows the dangers of this.”
When he looked at Charlie as if in confirmation, she nodded. “I understand.” Perhaps not the specifics, since she’d never gone tearing across the country in search of an assassin before, but she understood that there would be a certain level of danger. If not from Anthony—she trusted him wholeheartedly—then from brigands or highwaymen on the roads, savage animals in the forests, or even hazards from the weather. Charlie was willing to take that risk.
“Richard… ” Mama didn’t seem as willing to allow her to do so.
Papa raised his hand, stalling her. “This is precisely what happened between you and your mother shortly before we eloped. I know it’s been one of your greatest regrets. Charlie has made up her mind, and it seems as though she means to go no matter what you try to say to dissuade her, so you might as well give her your blessing, lest it drive a wedge between the two of you.”
Charlie straightened her spine. Papa was right. She wouldn’t let Mama or anyone else stop her from doing this. She wasn’t a child.
Mama’s expression crumpled. Tears filled her eyes. Worry pinched Charlie’s stomach. Quietly, Mama conceded, “If you’re that set on going, I won’t stop you.”
The words seemed all but swallowed by the silence that followed. Mama wiped her eyes and looked up, meeting Charlie’s gaze.
“Thank you.” Charlie’s words were every bit as soft. She didn’t know what else to say.
Mama stepped forward to clasp her hands. “I’m worried about you, love.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes.
Charlie couldn’t remember the last time she had seen Mama cry. She was always so strong, so composed. Tears threatened to choke Charlie, too, but she blinked them away. She swallowed around the lump in her throat. “I know, Mama. I have to do this.”
When she opened her arms, Charlie embraced her. Mama squeezed her tight as she confessed, “I don’t want you to go alone, but I don’t want to part in anger, either. I had an argument with my mother that caused a rift between us that lasted until the day she died. I still did what she forbade me to do.” Pulling away, Mama cupped her daughter’s cheeks. “I don’t want that to happen with us, love. Please stay safe.”
“I will.” Charlie’s voice was hoarse. She could barely speak around the constriction in her throat. “I won’t be alone. Anthony will be with me. You trust him, don’t you? I do.”
Tears shining in her eyes, Mama turned to Anthony. “You’d better live up to your family name. If anything happens to her…”
He straightened, clasping his hands behind his back as he assumed a rigid posture. “You have my word. I will keep her safe.”
Mama drew her arm around Charlie’s shoulders and steered her toward her cabin. “Then, my dear, let’s see you packed. I’ll make sure you have everything you need.”
“Quickly,” Anthony reminded them in a curt tone. “It’s nearly dark. We must set out as soon as possible.”
Charlie’s blood sang as reality set in. She was going on an adventure.
16
Thank the Lord that when Gray had promised to keep Charlie safe, he hadn’t given his word that she would be comfortable. Ever since they’d left the dinghy behind and continued on foot to the coastal village where they purchased horses, their journey had been a rocky one.
The dwindling light had made for treacherous footing. More than once, Charlie had tripped over her skirts or a crevice in the path. Once, the injury had cost them minutes as he’d examined her ankle to her vociferous protests. It hadn’t been broken nor, so far as he could tell, sprained, but even though she had waved off his assistance, her uneven gait from there on had warned him that the appendage continued to give her pain.
In the village, they’d stopped for a quick meal, and after paying over three quarters of the blunt he and Stills had brought with them, they’d managed to part the villagers from three mangy nags. If he hadn’t been so desperate for horses, he would never have bought the skinny, shaggy beasts that he feared at first wouldn’t hold up to his weight.
However, although they were clearly malnourished, the placid beasts obeyed readily and bore his weight with aplomb. Without taxing Charlie’s ankle any longer, they continued on their way. However, night upswept them before too long, rendering them all but blind. He carried a lantern on a long pole to light their path, but somehow they still had to stop for large stretches of time to search out the path where it became overgrown. And then, to crown their misery, it began to rain.
“We should have taken the road to London,” Stills grumbled as he led the horses one by one to a thin ribbon of water for them to drink.
Gray pretended not to hear. He had chosen this path because it led to Tenwick Abbey, closer to the coastal town than London even if the roads were not as well-traveled. With luck, he would find his mother in residence there and he would be able to impart his warning with a clear conscience.
For the moment, he had the health of another stubborn woman to contend with. He positioned himself so his shoulders blocked the view of his second-in-command as he folded Charlie’s damp skirt above her ankle. The appendage was clad in silk stockings, not quite sheer enough to judge the pallor of her skin beneath. “Has it been giving you grief?” he asked.
She pressed her lips together and shook her head. “I’ll persevere.”
He kept his eyes on her face as he gently poked at her ankle, searching for any spots that seemed unduly tender. He found one, but it produced only the barest cringe. She didn’t flinch or yank her leg from his grasp.
When he finished and tucked her ankle beneath her skirt once more, she raised her eyebrows. “See? I’m no more than bruised, if that.”
He crouched on his heels. The overhang of the tree over the thick, pronounced root where she sat shielded him somewhat from the steady rainfall. Given the
gurgle in the distance, he suspected the storm would soon become much worse. He needed to find them shelter for the night before the weather worsened. An inn, if he could manage. Although farms dotted the countryside, he didn’t think that Charlie would much appreciate bedding down in a hay loft. “You haven’t been as talkative as usual.”
She rubbed her face with both hands. He suspected she did so to cover a yawn. He bit back one of his own. It had been a long day, and they had been traveling by land for hours.
“It’s raining. What inclination I have to chatter has been washed away.”
He grinned. “Is that the secret to rendering you speechless? I’ll have to remember that for the next time we get in an argument.”
She gave him an arch look, the corners of her mouth curling in a smirk. “It won’t help you win.”
From feet away, Stills called that he’d found the path once more. Gray stood, offering his hand to Charlie to help her to her feet. She accepted with grace. When she stood, she didn’t appear to be favoring her ankle. He wondered how much of that composed mien was born of sheer stubbornness.
Renewing his conviction to seek out an inn with all possible haste, he helped her to her horse and lifted her into the sidesaddle. “Thank you,” she said as she gathered her reins.
He mounted and followed Stills, who had taken command of the lantern. Gray didn’t protest; his arm ached from holding it aloft, and he relished the respite. “How much longer can you ride?” he asked Charlie as they set off.
She straightened her spine. “As long as it takes.”
Liar. She wasn’t nearly the horsewoman he’d hoped. If her mount hadn’t been so demure, she would have landed on her rump more than once. A rump that, given her unfamiliarity with riding, must be aching by now. Even his had started to give a twinge.
Although the obstinate woman seemed set on enduring whatever hardship befell them, he knew for everyone’s sanity that he’d best find them a place to rest for the night—and soon.
A thin birch free fallen across the path shouldn’t have been cause for alarm. Bitters—the name Charlie had given to her horse because the color of his mane reminded her of the last dredges in the bottom of a teacup—was tall enough to step over the log with ease. However, the moment he hopped over and stumbled, her heart jumped into her throat.
She shrieked, echoing the horse’s whinny. He danced sideways, in clear pain. Charlie dropped the reins and clutched twin handfuls of his mane to keep her seat. She nearly did, but as the horse stepped wrong again, he bucked.
“Charlie!”
She could barely see the mane in front of her, let alone the man shouting her name. Her vision swam as panic gripped her. She struggled to hang on as the horse bucked again beneath her. She forgot to breathe.
A man’s strong arms plucked her from her horse and deposited her in front of him. The hard wedge of the saddle dug painfully into her rump, but she didn’t care. This mount didn’t roll beneath her like a ship during a storm. She wrapped her arms around Anthony’s warm torso and buried her face in his wet collar. He was no drier than she, but the heat of his body soaked into her and slowly relaxed her. Her shivers abated. Her heartbeat slowed to normal as he rubbed his palm over her back.
“Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, still buried in his collar.
Lieutenant Stills called, “Bad news, Captain. The horse seems to have thrown a shoe. We’ll have to keep to a slow pace, and it won’t be able to bear a rider.”
Anthony swore under his breath. His arm tightened around her until he abruptly released her. She continued to cling to him.
“We can’t ride like this,” he said softly. “It isn’t comfortable or practical. You’ll have to sit behind me.”
When she raised her gaze to him, she found his eyes dark in the pool of light cast by the lantern. “You’ll let me ride with you?” In her opinion, that was the very definition of not being able to keep up.
“You’ll have to,” he said matter-of-factly. “Your horse cannot bear your weight. He can scarcely bear his own.”
She bit her lip and looked down. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to harm the horse.”
The touch of his hand was cold as he dipped his index finger beneath her chin and used it to raise her gaze. For a moment, his touch lingered. His gaze fastened on her mouth. Did he fancy kissing her at that moment? She licked her lips, anticipating his touch.
Instead, he dropped his hand and cleared his throat. “I doubt it was anything you did. The shoe must not have been nailed on straight. These nags aren’t in the best condition, so I wouldn’t put it past that village to have done shoddy farrier work as well. Are you fit to move? I need to transfer you behind me if we’re to continue.”
Burying her disappointment over returning to the reality of their search, Charlie nodded. With Anthony’s help, she moved to sit sidesaddle behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist for balance as they set off again. His warmth and the lack of a need to concentrate on what she was doing made her sleepy.
When she cracked a yawn, Anthony said over his shoulder, “Don’t worry. I’ll find us a place to weather out the night as soon as may be.”
She almost resented the promise of a bed. When it came, she would have no more excuse to touch him.
Gray had begun to despair of finding anywhere to bed down, even the barn of a local farm. Fortunately, as the track widened and began to grow passable again, they came to a crossroads. At the crux was a shabby little inn, two stories tall. It would have to do.
The innkeeper didn’t seem particularly pleased to be roused from bed after midnight. The proprietress’s frown deepened as she noticed who was at her door. Her dress, hastily donned, gaped over her upper chest. Her hair resembled a bird’s nest.
Gray straightened his shoulders. “Madam, I beg your pardon for arriving so late in the evening, but we are looking for a place to spend the night and rest our horses. I am Captain Graylocke of the Royal Navy, and this is Lieutenant Stills.”
“And would she be your wife?” The woman’s voice dripped with censure.
Charlie bristled. She drew herself up, no doubt to deny the accusations, but Gray slung his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side. “She is,” he lied. “You may address her as Mrs. Graylocke.”
Given the way Charlie stiffened next to him, he would come to regret giving her that moniker, albeit temporarily. He only prayed that she wouldn’t speak the truth. The innkeeper didn’t seem likely to grant them shelter at this hour if she believed Charlie to be a fallen woman.
Fortunately, Charlie held her tongue—likely a testament to how exhausted she was. She leaned into Gray’s embrace. He wondered if her ankle was giving her grief.
The innkeeper’s face softened as she returned her attention to Charlie. “You poor dear, you’re soaked to the skin. Why don’t you come in and sit for a moment? I’ll rouse my husband to tend your horses while I start a fire in two of our rooms. We’ll see you and your husband settled straight away, Mrs. Graylocke, don’t you fear.”
Two rooms. Gray swore inwardly. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead. In the ton, most husbands and wives kept separate rooms. However, they were far from London; she hadn’t recognized him as a duke’s son, or she would have jumped to accommodate him regardless of Charlie’s fictitious position as his wife. Now, if he wanted to keep up the ruse, he would have to share a bedroom with her.
To sleep in the same bed with her warm body next to him would be far too much temptation.
Heedless to the torture to which she subjected him, the innkeeper bustled into a modest common room filled with wooden tables and benches. Stills remained outside, holding the horses and the lantern while he found the stables. The only light inside the establishment came from a tallow candle perched atop the nearest table.
“How long have you two been married?” the older woman asked as she found a second candle and lit it from the wick of the first.
When Charlie looked a bit
panicked, Gray answered for them both. “Not long,” he said, biting off his words.
“On your honeymoon, are you?” For all her earlier sourness, she seemed in a remarkably amiable mood now. “I had wondered why a captain in the Royal Navy would be so far inland. I thought you gents never strayed from a port city like Brighton.”
Gray smiled tightly. “It’s true, I would never abandon my duty for anything less than life-changing.”
When the innkeeper opened her mouth—perhaps to quiz them further—he cut her off.
“Forgive me, madam, but it is extraordinarily late, and we’ve been riding all afternoon in search of a proper inn. Could we beg you for the bed now?” He caught Charlie’s hand, finding it cold. “And perhaps a cup of tea or something hot to eat if you have it.”
“Oh, dear me, yes, of course. Let me go stoke those fires up first thing and wake my husband. Don’t want your companion…”
“Lieutenant Stills,” he supplied when she trailed off.
“Yes, don’t want this Lieutenant Stills to be out in the rain any longer than necessary. I won’t be long, I promise.”
As she left, taking the second candle with her, Gray lowered himself onto a bench next to Charlie. He still held her hand. He warmed it between his, despite the fact that he was likely no warmer. What he wouldn’t give for a hot bath. That, unfortunately, was impossible.
After a moment, Charlie whispered, “Thank you.” When he looked at her askance, she elaborated. “I know you want to press on.”
He switched to warming her other hand. “If we don’t stop, we’ll fall dead on our feet tomorrow. The horses, as well.”
She didn’t say anything further. When he was done warming her hands, she retracted them onto her lap. He felt strangely bereft without them.
Stills entered shortly thereafter, soaked to the skin and looking as though he was near to dropping. Gray accepted his and Charlie’s packs. Stills barely said two words before the proprietress returned to lead them to their rooms. “I’ll cook you up a hot hash and bring it up straight away.”
Captivating the Captain (Scandals and Spies Book 6) Page 10
