by Darcy Burke
Damn. He more than liked her. He enjoyed her company. The trip would be long and perhaps challenging, but Simon suspected he would enjoy it more than any other journey he’d undertaken during the past two years. And he’d undertaken quite a few. That was what one did when one didn’t want to be at home to face the horrid memories there.
She took a deep breath and burrowed her gloved hands beneath the blanket. “I hadn’t thought about us posing as a married couple, but I suppose that makes the most sense. Don’t I need a wedding ring?”
Hell, he hadn’t thought that far ahead.
“Never mind. If anyone inquires, I will say I lost it,” she said. “But we’ll, ah, have to share a room?”
He sensed her unease and wanted to reassure her. “Undoubtedly, but your virtue is entirely safe with me.” The tension around her mouth and eyes seemed to loosen a bit. “Masking our identities will also offer protection, and, as I said, we’ll be staying in smaller lodgings away from the main road so it’s less likely that people passing through would recognize us. Discretion will be key to our success.”
“I do appreciate the thought you’ve put into this, Mr. Byrd.”
“My pleasure, Mrs. Byrd.”
“Are we going to travel all night?” She sounded skeptical.
“No. We’ll get to the outskirts of London and find a small inn where we can sleep for a few hours. It will take us a little while, so if you’d like to rest now, please do so.”
“I’m not sure I could sleep if I tried.”
He wasn’t sure he could either.
And yet a scant quarter hour later, her body had completely relaxed and her head nodded against his shoulder. She really was quite petite, her body pressing into his so slightly that she could be nothing more than a large woolen blanket propped against his side.
He shifted slightly, angling himself toward her and lifting his arm so she could settle against his chest, which likely made a better pillow than his shoulder. She sighed in her sleep, nuzzling into him and making his breath catch.
He hadn’t been this close to a woman in over two years. Now his body tensed.
How in the hell had he maneuvered himself into this situation? It wasn’t a question that needed answering. What he should strive to remember is that it was a temporary arrangement. He would help her get to Lancashire.
And then what? It didn’t sound as if she had a plan beyond going to her cousin’s. But maybe she did. He’d ask her for more details tomorrow. If she didn’t have a plan, they’d have plenty of time to come up with one.
He sent another prayer heavenward that they would be met with fine weather and fast roads. Then he remembered that his prayers usually went unanswered and always when they pertained to him. He clarified his request: Do this for her. Keep her safe. Preserve her future. Guide her to happiness.
And what of his happiness? He didn’t pretend to believe he would find any, nor did he deserve it. He’d long ago decided his only saving grace would be helping others, which was why he gave most of his income to the workhouse in his district and several orphanages in London. He certainly didn’t need to save it for his heirs. The title would die with him, and that was just as well, since he’d tainted it for all time.
The Duke of Ruin indeed.
* * *
The coach hit a particularly deep rut, causing Diana to drop the book she’d been holding for the third time. Romsey—which was how she’d taken to thinking of him—folded at the waist and plucked it from the floor.
“Perhaps I should find a way to secure it to your lap,” he offered.
“I’m not sure how. I do appreciate you having the forethought to bring books.”
“Don’t forget the cards, though that’s trickier in a moving coach.”
“I’m afraid I don’t play cards.” Her parents hadn’t ever allowed it, deeming it an unnecessary and uncouth activity for a debutante.
His brows climbed with brief surprise. “I see. Well, I can certainly teach you at the inn later if we aren’t too tired.”
Just thinking of being closeted with him in a room again made her body temperature spike. She blamed it on embarrassment at having to share such close quarters with a near stranger, but she feared it was maybe something else. Something she’d prefer to ignore, so she did.
Surprisingly, she’d fallen asleep on the way to their stop last night. Even more surprisingly, she’d awakened in his arms upon their arrival. For a brief moment, she’d felt his warmth and the steady beat of his heart, and she’d felt something she never had before: safe. It had unnerved her completely. She’d practically fallen to the floor in her efforts to get away from him.
Then they’d gone upstairs to their tiny room at the coaching inn. The bed was barely large enough for two people, particularly when they’d placed a rolled blanket in the middle. They’d both slept completely clothed, and Diana woke in the very same position in which she’d fallen asleep. Clearly, she hadn’t dared move.
They hadn’t changed into nightclothes since their stop was only a few hours long. But tonight would be different. Tonight, they would be there all night, and truthfully, Diana couldn’t bear to sleep in her corset and petticoat again.
If only her parents could see her now. Her mother would faint in horror, and her father would rage in fury. Indeed, they were likely doing that today anyway.
She’d thought of them often throughout the journey, wondering if Father was already on his way to King’s Grange. Had Mother gone with him? Had he taken his anger out on her? Diana hoped not, and in fact, she’d written to that effect in her note, saying it was her decision not to marry Kilve and to retreat to King’s Grange. She’d also said she was looking forward to spending the holidays at home instead of in London. That part, at least, was true. Or it would have been if she’d actually gone home.
Home. Where was that now? Nowhere, she realized.
“You’re not reading.”
Romsey’s voice intruded into her thoughts. She held the book in her hands but hadn’t opened it since he’d returned it to her.
Grateful to push aside the worry in her mind, she opened the book.
“What were you thinking about?” He closed the book he was reading, his finger keeping his place.
“The future.” It wasn’t a complete fabrication. She had been about to contemplate that.
“Ah. That can be a delicate endeavor. What are your plans once we reach your cousin’s?”
“I don’t know.” She turned her head to find him watching her intently. He was very handsome—a fact they’d all agreed upon at the house party. The Duke of Kilve was the more sought after, but only because he wasn’t saddled with the horrid reputation of the man in front of her. They were very close friends, the two dukes, but their demeanors had been quite different. Kilve had been cool and aloof—a façade he’d erected to protect himself. Romsey, on the other hand, laughed easily and worked his charm with anyone who would pay attention. And Diana and her friends had paid attention, as much as their parents had allowed.
Diana’s father had made it very clear that he wouldn’t tolerate a match between her and the Duke of Ruin, the abominable nickname attached to him because of his past sins. Or alleged sins. Diana wasn’t his judge.
Yes, he was very attractive, with dark hair and dark eyes. And yet both were touched with gold. In his hair, there were lighter strands woven here and there with the dark, and in his eyes, sparkling flecks near the center that gave him an air of mischief. But there were also fine lines around his eyes and a few around his mouth that revealed a private agony perhaps. And given what she knew of his wife’s death, she didn’t doubt that he’d suffered. She longed to ask him the truth but hadn’t gathered the courage.
They had days and days together. She might find the audacity yet.
For now, she would tread carefully—and try very hard not to fall under the spell cast by his enchanting gaze. He always looked at her with such care and honesty. It was nearly impossible to think of hi
m as a murderer. But she reminded herself, as she always did, that appearances could be deceiving. She had no further to look than her father.
“Well, you have several days to decide what to do,” he said bringing her attention back to the conversation. “How can I help?”
“You’re already helping, thank you.”
“I won’t feel right just depositing you in Lancashire without a plan. In fact, I’m still not entirely certain of our final destination.”
That, at least, was something she knew. “Blackburn.”
His brows climbed to an alarming height. “As in the Duke Who Disappeared?” It wasn’t the same sort of duke nickname that Romsey and Kilve were saddled with, but it served its purpose, she supposed. It told you precisely who the Duke of Blackburn was with the utmost notoriety.
“Precisely. My cousin is the Duchess of Blackburn.”
Romsey blew out a breath between his lips. “I remember when he went missing. What a tragedy. How many years ago was that now?”
“More than six. Long enough that his absence doesn’t trouble Verity.” As if it ever had. She’d immediately regretted marrying him, so much so that she’d felt guilty at her relief when he’d disappeared without a trace. “I look forward to seeing her—it’s been nearly two years since we were together.”
“It sounds as if you and she are close. Once you arrive, perhaps she can help you decide what to do. Unless you have your mind set already.”
Her thoughts went immediately to the fantasies she’d indulged the day before—an independent life with a home of her own, teaching young girls…
“It looks like you might,” he said softly, stealing into her thoughts once more.
She’d averted her gaze to the window beyond him in the door of the coach. Now she adjusted it back to his. Those gold flecks seemed to dance with anticipation.
Suddenly, she thought of his lips against hers at the house party. She’d been so shocked that she hadn’t reacted. His mouth had lingered on hers just long enough for her to feel as if she were melting. And then he’d gone, leaving her cold and strangely bereft.
She blinked. “It’s nothing.” She bent her head to her book once more.
“It can’t be nothing. I detected the very beginning of a faint smile. Nothing doesn’t spark smiles.”
“What a ridiculous sentence,” she said, allowing the smile to come.
“Indeed it is, but you gather my meaning. Tell me your heart’s desire.”
He used the phrase she had yesterday when referring to Kilve. ‘Heart’s desire’ typically meant love, didn’t it? But only the luckiest people fell in love, and Diana had never felt particularly lucky.
When she still didn’t respond, he leaned closer. “You can tell me. I’m good at keeping secrets.”
She swung her gaze to his and, for some reason, decided to tell him. “What you suggested yesterday… It might be nice to have my own cottage. Somewhere I could teach. Maybe.” She shrugged as heat rose up her neck.
“That’s lovely.” His response was gentle, almost reverent. “There’s a workhouse in my district that recently opened a small school as part of its program. I gave them much of my library—well, what they would want, anyway. I’m afraid there are many volumes that would be absolute drudgery to get through.”
“You gave your library away?”
“I found a place where it would get far more use.” He cocked his head to the side. “What would your family say about marrying me?”
And just like that, the magic of the moment was lost as reality invaded. “Nothing good. I wouldn’t be allowed to do such a thing. Which is where the other part of your suggestion comes in. I’d have to disappear—change my name and leave Diana Kingman behind.”
“You can certainly do that, but you really would leave this life behind you. That includes everyone you know, even this cousin you’re going to visit. Are you close?”
She hadn’t thought about that. “Yes. She’d keep my secret.”
“Could you ask her to?”
She could, but he had a point. While she and Verity had grown up together, Diana couldn’t expect her to lie to their fathers. They were brothers and very alike, especially in temperament.
“I probably shouldn’t.” She worked to keep the defeat from her tone.
“You don’t have to decide anything right now,” he said with warm encouragement. “I’m here, and I’ll help you in whatever way I can. You’re not alone.”
She might not be alone, but she certainly felt that way. It was impossible not to, given the way she’d been forced to live. She wondered whether the independence she craved would mean a lifetime of loneliness. Could she accept one to gain the other?
It was almost laughable, thinking she had a choice. But maybe, just maybe, she did. Thanks to this disaster Kilve had left her in. And Romsey seemed intent on rescuing her from.
“Thank you,” she murmured, lifting her book and trying to focus on the page. She was all too aware of his body next to hers, not quite touching, but close enough to feel his heat. Which was the point of their proximity since it was rather cold.
Reason told her it was foolish to plan her life with or depend upon this near stranger. Yet he’d shown her more kindness than just about anyone she’d ever known. She could only hope this was his true self. Time would tell—hopefully within the next week.
A few minutes later, the coach slowed. Romsey leaned toward the window to look outside.
“We’re here,” he announced.
Once the vehicle stopped, Romsey opened the door. He waited for the coachman to lower the step, then hopped out and helped Diana descend.
Her legs protested after the last several hours in the coach, but it was good to feel her blood circulating again. The inn was a bit larger than last night’s, boasting a charming gabled roof.
The duke escorted her across the yard. The ground was hard, and she marveled at their luck in avoiding any rain. Perhaps her fortunes had changed.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Just outside Luton, I believe.”
“Are you familiar with this road?”
“Somewhat,” he said, opening the door to the inn and ushering her inside.
Before she could ask him what had brought him this way, a plump woman with bright blue eyes and extraordinary dimples greeted them. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Byrd!”
The name jarred Diana, but then she shouldn’t have been surprised—that was their disguise. Except why would this woman know that? She couldn’t have been expecting their arrival. Unless Romsey had plotted this course all along. What if they weren’t on their way to Lancashire? She realized he could have kidnapped her, spiriting her away wherever he wanted. He was an alleged murderer after all…
She looked at him warily as he spoke to the woman, who was quite pleased to see him.
I’m being ridiculous! Diana admonished herself. Why would he kidnap her? What purpose could he possibly have? Did he mean to take her to Gretna Green and force her to marry him?
“My love,” he said, startling Diana and reaching for her hand. The endearment drove every other thought from her mind. “Kitty, come and meet Mrs. Watt, the innkeeper’s wife. Allow me to present my wife, Mrs. Byrd.” He drew Diana against his side.
She connected with his warmth, and her body thrilled to the contact, despite the distressing turn her mind had taken. Forcing a smile, she nodded at Mrs. Watt. “Pleased to meet you.”
Mrs. Watt clapped her hands together as her eyes danced with glee. “My goodness, felicitations are in order! We just saw you this past summer, and you were unwed. This sounds like a grand love story. I look forward to hearing it over dinner.” She winked at Romsey, then asked, “Would you like the same room?”
“That would be more than acceptable, thank you.”
“Come along, then.” She led them through the small common room and up a narrow flight of stairs.
Diana’s mind churned with what they could possibly say at dinn
er. And why had he been here last summer as Mr. Byrd?
They reached the landing, and there were just two rooms, matching the gables Diana had seen. Mrs. Watt led them to the one on the right side of the landing. “Here we are. Dinner will be in just a little while. Do you want me to send a boy up to start your fire?”
“No, I’ll take care of it. And my coachman will bring our cases. Thank you kindly, Mrs. Watt.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Byrd. See you at dinner!”
After the woman left, Diana faced the duke. “How does she know you? You couldn’t have arranged this in advance.”
He went to the mantel and picked up the tinderbox. “Of course not. You didn’t tell me where we were going until we set out. As it happens, I’ve been here before. I didn’t remember at first.”
That eased her concern somewhat, but it didn’t entirely make sense. “As Mr. Byrd?”
He knelt at the hearth to start the fire, which was already laid. He didn’t turn his head when he answered. “Er, yes.”
She wanted to make sure she understood. “You’ve been here before as Mr. Byrd?”
Once he had the fire going, he stood. “Yes.”
She tipped her head to the side, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn’t, she set her hands on her hips. He was being decidedly circumspect. “Why did you come here under an alias?”
“I like to travel.” He shrugged and still didn’t meet her eyes, which didn’t help his cause. “I prefer to remain anonymous.”
“Except you weren’t. You used a specific name. A name we’re now using on this…trip.” She wasn’t sure what to call it. Escape?
He finally looked at her. “You needn’t worry. No one knows who I really am. And they’ll only know you as Mrs. Byrd. Kitty Byrd.” He sniggered, and she rolled her eyes at his finding humor in this situation.
“Yes, they’ll know me as your wife, with apparently some fantastical tale about how we fell in love.”
“Fantastical?” He stroked his chin. “I’d thought we could simply say we were introduced by a common friend and decided to wed, but I suppose we could concoct a more amusing story.” His eyes lit. “I know—you left your fiancé at the altar and ran off with his best friend.” He laughed.
