Moving though the park, the sounds of other people growing fainter as Evans chose a less-traveled track. “Much prettier on these side paths, isn’t it?” he asked with no apparent recognition that Rose was not in a position to judge.
They continued on for a short while, and then Evans muttered something too low for her to hear.
The carriage lurched to a halt, nearly sending Rose to the floor as she was pitched forward.
“My word, what was that?” she gasped.
“That’s unfortunate,” said Mr. Evans, not sounding very upset. “Hold one moment, and I’ll go see what’s the matter.”
The balance of the carriage shifted as he leapt down to the ground. Rose heard footsteps circle the carriage and then heard the whinny of the horses.
“What happened?” she asked when he returned.
“Patch of mud,” he explained. “Looks like the wheel got sunk and hit a rock. I’m afraid the wheel is damaged.”
Rose thought he sounded quite calm about it, so she assumed it was a minor issue. She asked, “Then shall we walk to the street that borders the park so we can hail a ride to return me home?”
“Oh, no, much too far! We’ll wait here for rescue.” He returned to the carriage, the springs of the seat squeaking as he slid onto it.
“Rescue?” she echoed.
“Bound to be someone by in a little bit,” he told her cheerfully.
“Where in the park are we?” she asked. Rose only knew the family’s usual route, because Mr. Blake did not vary in his habits. She tipped her head, listening closely. She heard the rustle of early leaves, and the chirping of a hundred birds, and even the rush of a small brook somewhere nearby. But no people. No distant conversations, or the clop of hooves indicating a rider passing or a carriage along the path behind them. “It seems quite isolated.”
“Nonsense. Won’t be more than a quarter hour, I’m sure. Maybe half an hour.”
Where in London’s most popular park could they be that it would take so long to even be seen, let alone for someone to notice that the carriage was incapacitated? Rose began to feel uneasy.
“I should prefer that we walk to get help,” she said, reaching for her walking stick, and finding a little comfort when she gripped the cool silver top.
“You’re not wearing shoes for walking,” he pointed out, “and it is very muddy.”
He moved closer to her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry, I’ll ensure you’re not bored.”
His mouth descended on hers in a kiss that assumed far too much about her interest and her enthusiasm.
Rose pushed him away. “Sir! You mistake me.”
“Do I?” he asked. “You seemed quite happy to come along, not having the slightest idea where I’d take you.”
“You implied you’d keep to the main paths!”
“Well, what else would I say?” He leaned over Rose again, pushing her back in the seat as he pressed himself against her, his hands hot on her chest and arms pawing.
“Get off me!” Rose protested, trying to squirm away.
“Enjoy it,” he told her, ignoring her attempts to escape. “A blind girl can’t be too choosy about who she asks to seduce her.”
“I did not ask for anything!” she hissed, offended and frankly scared now. “Let me out of here or I shall scream.”
“Do that,” he said. “I’d love it. Everyone comes running, and sees you all ravished and panting…”
“Ugh!” Rose hated the image he described. She twisted away from him, reaching for the door with the flat of her hand, finding the handle a moment later. Just then, she realized the walking stick was still in the carriage. Drat. Well, she’d run on her own, even if she fell or tripped over a tree root or made a mess of herself. Anything was better than staying with this horrid excuse for a man.
Once on the ground, Rose started walking away from the carriage, not much caring where she was headed. She held her arms out in front of her. Now she was probably going to run smack into a tree, completing her humiliation.
Just then, she did step directly into something, but not a tree. It was a person, the body solid and strong and unmoving. Hands reached up to hold her, and a familiar voice said, “Miss Blake, it seems I am always finding you inexplicably solo.”
