“Very well,” she conceded, being as Mr. Mongerton had never proposed at all. “This is the second worst offer of marriage I’ve ever had.”
“But it’s not the worst.” He gave her a ghost of a smile and stood, offering her his hand.
She allowed him to pull her to her feet.
“Have we recovered everything?” he asked even as his gaze skimmed over the ground once more.
She did a quick inventory of her aunt’s jewels. All were accounted for. Meaning the only thing missing was her wits.
And soon, her freedom.
She tilted her head. “I know this is terribly rude of me to say, but I do not wish to marry you.”
“I wagered as much.”
So he knew? And yet still, he’d come after her. As if she were some prize to be reclaimed.
Heat scorched her cheeks. “Is that why you kissed me? To seduce me into marrying you?”
His brows shot up, and a bemused expression lightened his face. “Lady Sophia.” He let his gaze linger on her before leaning ever so slightly closer. “If I were going to seduce you into marrying me,” his warm breath teased over the sensitive skin just under her ear, “I would do it with more than a simple kiss.”
She suppressed the urge to shiver against the silkiness of his voice, the tease of such words. He smelled of sandalwood and something spicy she found far more enticing than she cared to admit.
He straightened, returning her space to her, and her breath with it. “And if you must know, I don’t wish to marry you either.”
Her mouth fell open.
Before she could say anything, he smirked. “Not every man wants to marry you.”
The scorch at her cheeks burned hotter still. “Then why would you travel all this way for me?”
“I have as little choice in this matter as you.”
She gave a mirthless chuckle and snapped her valise closed. “What a pair we make.”
“Shall we return these horses to their owners?” He offered her his arm, the same as he had done at the ball when they took a turn about the room. Except now, the gesture was so ridiculous it was almost laughable. Him in his oversized, too short servant’s attire, her in her bombazine widow’s gown, both of them covered in flecks of grass and smears of dirt from their fall.
Reluctantly, she accepted his arm and allowed him to lead her back to where the horses had relinquished their freedom in favor of a patch of clover they were happily munching upon. If only she could be so content as them. So free.
She slid a glance to Lord Kendal, the man who intended to wed her, despite a lack of desire to do so. He had a straight nose and sharp cheekbones that lent him an elegant appearance. It was the spark in his eyes that made him look dangerous.
If he noticed her attention fixed on him, he did not acknowledge it.
“Will we do it at Gretna Green?” she asked suddenly.
“Do what?” He reached for the reins of first one horse, then the other. Neither offered protest, nipping the cropped ground as they went.
“Get married, of course.”
“That would be rather clichéd, don’t you agree?”
That brought a smile to her lips despite their dire circumstances. “Indeed, it would.”
The conversation fell away, a blatant reminder of Lord Kendal’s disinclination to marry her. Which hopefully meant he might not give chase if she found another opportunity to run. For certainly, she would seek to escape as many times as it took to secure her freedom.
6
For as much as Kendal claimed not to want to marry Lady Sophia, he was not so stubborn as to deny that he had enjoyed that kiss. The softness of her lush lips, the way she’d looked up at him with those wide, innocent blue eyes and flushed cheeks.
She’d bound up her hair in a loose knot as best she could, but it didn’t stop him from wanting to stroke his fingers through the lovely tresses and test if the texture was as silky as it appeared.
However, this desire was easily brushed aside when they were fortunate enough to happen upon her black veil, which had become stuck in a bush. Once in place, she was a widow like any other, which, as always, brought back unpleasant memories.
They returned the horses to the very grateful stable lad and went back to the inn, where the innkeeper’s amused smile was barely masked on his face. “Welcome back, my lord.”
Kendal grunted in reply. “It appears we shall require the rooms for another evening.” Much as he would prefer to return to London, he was well aware of their state. They both needed to bathe and freshen up, perhaps in clothes that didn’t leave his ankles and wrists with a chill. Yes, staying the night would be best, especially with a woman, knowing how long they took to ready themselves. Lady Sophia would probably require a considerable amount of time.
They had both been running too bloody hard for too bloody long. A moment’s respite, to become acquainted, or something of the sort, prior to their union, would do them both good.
“Excellent.” The innkeeper hesitated. “Both rooms, my lord?”
Lady Sophia stiffened at his side.
“Yes,” Kendal said quickly. “Both rooms.” He would hardly force the lady to share sleeping quarters with him before they were properly wed. “And a bath will be required as well.”
“Also, two of them?” The corner of the innkeeper’s lips twitched.
Kendal could have punched the old sod. “Yes,” he growled instead.
The innkeeper looked toward her valise, which she had refused to give to Kendal. The man’s brows raised, most likely at his presumed assumption of Kendal’s lack of manners to aid a woman with her effects.
While he had offered, she had declined, given the obvious importance to her. However, the judgment on the innkeeper’s face rankled Kendal more than it ought to.
“Please allow me.” He held out his hand for the valise.
Lady Sophia hesitated, her expression hidden from Kendal beneath the black lace of her veil. Finally, she held it out to him, relinquishing the damn thing.
Kendal caught the handle in a strong grip, but even that had not prepared him for the considerable weight.
Good God, she might have been smuggling a blacksmith’s hammer, based on its heft. In truth, he was rather impressed that her slight frame had managed to hold onto it with such fierce determination.
He closed his hand more firmly around the handle to ensure it did not slip from his grasp and led her to the stairs.
“You are going to give that back, I presume?” she hissed in a whisper.
The temptation to refuse her struck him suddenly. Keeping her valise would ensure she wouldn’t run away again. But then, she knew he would catch her. Perhaps that would be threat enough to prevent yet another chase. And anyway, it wouldn’t do to begin their proposed union together by holding her wealth hostage.
“I certainly haven’t any need for it.” He waited until they were at the top of the stairs, just before the plain wood door that marked the entry to her room and handed her the valise.
“You wouldn’t, would you?” Her expression was impossible to make out beneath the black lace veil. The ridiculous frippery was practically opaque it was so thick.
He scoffed. “I am quite wealthy.” It was a pompous response, but it wasn’t a lie. If they were to be forced into matrimony, she could at least take comfort in knowing she would be well cared for.