‘Well, it’s not me,’ Daizell said. ‘I wanted to be sensible. You’re the one who asked me to lie to vicars.’
‘That was your idea!’
‘It was your idea to have the idea.’
Daizell Charnage was calling him the reckless one. Cassian felt quite dizzy, and stupidly happy, and he didn’t want to move. He wanted to stay here in the warm bed next to Daizell’s warm body, talking and laughing and just accidentally touching.
‘We should get up,’ he told himself aloud, and swung his legs out of bed before he changed his mind.
They made a hearty breakfast. Their temporary travelling companions seemed rather more nervy. Mr Marston made rather a point of giving his name as Charnage to their hosts, and talking about their forthcoming marriage and the pleasures of Stratford-upon-Avon. Cassian had never been there, but, based on their companion’s speech, he felt confident that Mr Marston hadn’t either.
It turned out the eloping couple had a hired chaise. That saved Cassian’s own purse, he reflected smugly, without infringing the terms of the wager. The four of them set off very promptly. Mr Marston took the reins, which left his intended, Daizell, and Cassian sitting inside.
Miss Beaumont evidently felt obliged to make conversation. ‘So what business are you about in Stratford, Mr Charnage?’
Daizell glanced at Cassian, who said, ‘Pursuing some interests of mine. Uh, business interests.’
‘Oh. That sounds . . . interesting. Are you doing that too, Mr Charnage? I didn’t know you were a man of affairs.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Oh.’
‘Miss Beaumont, would you care to speak about your situation?’ Cassian didn’t think he could bear any more small talk. ‘Of course, I wish you success in your, uh, mission, but it strikes me, since Sir James has the right to force you to return to his house, you may need to consider what to do if he should catch you. Is there anyone you can appeal to? Trustees, relatives?’
Her jaw set. ‘Do you think I haven’t tried? My father appointed him my guardian because he had nobody else, and my trustee is only concerned with my fortune, not my wishes. And scarcely even that, the idle lump.’
Cassian considered. ‘How long might it take you to reach Scotland?’
‘Don’t answer that,’ Daizell said. ‘We don’t want to know which way you’re going: that way we can’t let it slip.’
‘Why do you ask?’ Miss Beaumont added.
‘I was wondering how we might find out if Sir James catches you,’ Cassian said. There were surely people he could write to. Leo, perhaps: he’d doubtless be aware of Vier’s movements and state of mind. Then again, Leo was unlikely to want to cross a man to whom he owed a lot of money, and also, while Cassian could write to him, he had no idea where he’d be over the next few weeks to receive any reply.
Miss Beaumont was looking oddly at him. ‘Why?’
‘So we can help. If Sir James finds you, you’ll need someone to get you out of his grasp. I’ll be travelling for the next three weeks, but after that – hmm. Perhaps you could write to me care of a friend.’
‘Help me? How would you propose to do that?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Cassian said honestly. ‘But it is wrong that your guardian should press you to marry him, and I am quite sure something should be done, if only bringing his behaviour to the world’s attention.’
‘He would inevitably bring Miss Beaumont’s behaviour to the world’s attention,’ Daizell pointed out. ‘He enjoys exposing people’s sins.’
‘Oh, hedoes,’ Miss Beaumont agreed resentfully. ‘It hides his own. It wouldn’t matter if I could just get away. Once I have my fortune, I dare say people will stop caring about anything else. And if they don’t, then I shall do very well without their good opinion. I want to have my own life, and live it, and if other people disapprove of how I go about that, they can disapprove till their ears turn blue, because I don’t think a good reputation is any sort of consolation for a life of misery. So if Sir James does catch up, Mr, uh—’
‘Cassian.’
‘If he does, and if you do have any means of finding out and making a fuss on my behalf, whatever the consequences, I would be immensely grateful. I don’t know why you’re both being so dreadfully kind,’ she added, and her mouth twitched then, pulling down at the corners as though she might cry.
‘He’s chivalrous, and I’m easily led,’ Daizell said, his cheerful tone pulling her expression back to a smile. ‘You don’t have much luggage. Very wise, or will you be shopping on the way?’
Miss Beaumont responded to that opening with a brightness that didn’t entirely convince, but she and Daizell kept up a light and meaningless chatter for long enough that the mood lifted. Cassian found it admirable on both their parts. He didn’t feel quite able to join in. The coach was travelling at a very good speed indeed, and the road was appalling, bumpy and rutted and badly sloped. He would have liked to take the reins himself, or to join Mr Marston on the box and see his handling of the horses. He didn’t want to be stuck in this dark box, jolting, rocking, going too damned fast because any moment there would be a crack and a lurch and they would crash—
Daizell put a hand on his knee.
Cassian looked down at the touch, startled. Daizell’s hand, resting on his leg, casual and warm, and as Cassian looked up again, Daizell gave it a squeeze, and flashed him a reassuring smile. ‘Mr Marston’s a good whip?’ he said aloud, with just a touch of a question.
