“Shall I come with you as well, Lady Shoreham?”
Rob stepped in and answered for her. “No, Mr. Sykes. I am fully able to protect her, and she will need someone trustworthy to run the farm when I am proved wrong and the son takes a shotgun to us.”
“He’s a conniving weasel, not a murderer,” Fiona assured him, although this did not seem to mollify him very much as they climbed back in her rig, bade her estate manager a good day, and proceeded to Brighton and Mr. Holland’s bake shop.
“You could have left the matter to Mr. Sykes,” Rob mentioned as they turned onto the main road leading to Brighton.
“No, the responsibility is mine. Besides, the son will not respond to a commoner, but he will not dare cross a countess.” She glanced at him. “And he will cower when he learns you are a duke.”
“We could go back to Shoreham Manor and use my carriage.”
“No, you do not need your lion crest emblazoned on the door to show your authority. You carry it just fine on your person alone. You really are wonderfully daunting and authoritative.”
He laughed and gave a shrug. “All right, but I want you to stay behind me when we walk into Mr. Holland’s establishment.”
“Why? It isn’t an army garrison, just a bakery. The only powder floating around will be the flour one uses to bake. However, I do appreciate your desire to protect me.”
“Oh, I don’t think you do,” he said with a note of seriousness. “I can already see that you plan to leap out of the rig and barge into the store the moment we arrive. But you must wait for me to go in first, Fiona. You are little and slight, and will be the first one hurt in a brawl.”
“There isn’t going to be a brawl. Good grief, do you think this is how I deal with my wayward customers?” Although she did have to calm down and approach the situation with more circumspection and less bellowing. “I cannot talk to him if I am cowering behind you. But I do promise to stand close by you.”
“We’ll see about that.”
They said nothing more to each other, but Rob’s silence was worrying her. He could not be overset about this unexpected trip to Brighton, nor seriously worried about a wastrel son who was probably purchasing inferior ingredients for cakes and pies, could he?
This ran deeper, and was likely about them. Of course. Did he think she was not taking him seriously?
Goodness.He wasallshe thought about. If only she could dismiss him from her thoughts. But he was constantly in them, filling her heart and her every waking moment to the point of obsession.
She wanted him so desperately. Giving him up would be the hardest thing she would ever have to do in her life.
“Did you notice I am wearing the necklace you gave me?” She forced a cheerful smile.
He let out a breath and chuckled. “I notice everything about you.”
Oh.
He was bringing the conversation around to them again. She needed to divert him. “I wonder if Mr. Holland has taken ill. His son would never be able to take control otherwise.”
“Sounds probable.”
“Shall we stop for ices after we’ve addressed the baker problem?”
“If you wish.”
She was going to ask him what he wanted to do, but feared he would respond, “I want to head to the church and marry you,” and she did not have the strength to hear more of that today. Was she not feeling just as much pain about their situation as he was?
And now her stomach was feeling heavy and beginning to cramp because it was coming upon her monthly time. “Never mind. No ices. We had better go straight home after the bakery.”
He glanced at her. “Why the change of heart?”
“I’m not feeling at my best just now.”
“What’s the matter?” He drew up on the reins. “The baker and Brighton can wait for another day. Shall I take you straight home?”
“No, let’s finish our business first. I’ll be fine. Truly, Rob. Do not treat me like a delicate porcelain doll.”
He eyed her warily but did as she asked.
