After a beat of total shock, Rose allowed herself to accept the truth. Adrian Marsh was there, just when she needed him.
“Oh, my lord,” she gasped, not entirely clear in her own mind whether the words were a prayer of thanks or simply polite address. Did it matter?
“Steady, Rose,” he murmured, softly enough that only she heard it. “I’ll sort this out.”
Louder, he spoke to the suitor who had proven so unsuitable. “Good day, Mr. Evans. It is Evans, isn’t it?”
Evans sounded startled, and not happy about a rescuer appearing. “Yes, that is my name, though we have not met, sir.”
“Well, that’s a mercy,” Norbury said dryly, allowing the other man to hear his comment. “An odd place to stop a carriage, and with such a charming passenger in need of especially careful handling, I must note.”
While he spoke, he kept Rose close to him, his arm around her shoulders in a protective embrace. She leaned into him while listening to the exchange, hearing new levels of animosity growing with every word.
“The carriage wheel is damaged,” Mr. Evans replied, his tone sullen and combative—but not too combative. He sounded like a man who knew how this particular battle would end.
“Sloppy,” Adrian commented, his voice like steel. “The wheel looks fine to me.”
“Well, it isn’t,” Evans snapped.
“My lord,” Rose began to say, thinking that she’d need to exonerate herself. “I…”
“Why, of course I’ll escort you home,” Adrian said, as if that was what she’d asked. “As it happens, my curricle has perfectly fine wheels, and plenty of room for such a light burden as yourself. Evans here can deal with his mess however he likes.”
Adrian must have sensed her trembling, because he put one hand at her back as he turned her away from Evans and toward his own conveyance.
“Wait,” she blurted out. “My walking stick—he’s got it.”
“Stay there.” Adrian left her, did something that caused Evans to yelp in protest, and a moment later he returned, handing her the stick.
“Oh, thank you,” she breathed.
“This way, Miss Blake.”
Rose heard the nicker of the horses as they approached—she’d been so upset before that she hadn’t even heard them come up. Adrian helped her in with steady hands, and he went round the other side to climb in himself.
Rosalind had never been in such a vehicle before, and felt it was almost like riding on nothing at all. Unlike a coach, there was no sense of enclosure. The little curricle was light and let the world in. The seat moved as Adrian got in beside her. She heard him pick up the reins, eager to be off.
“Quite secure, Miss Blake?”
“Yes, thank you.” Was she secure? In a physical sense, she was better off than she was a moment ago. But who would have thought that she’d be safer with a known libertine than a respectable gentleman?
Chapter 7
“Hold on,” Adrian told Rose. “We’ll be moving…now.”
The horses reacted to his command, and the curricle rolled forward, slowly at first, and then with increasing speed.
“His wheel wasn’t broken, was it?” she asked when she could no longer keep silent.
“No, it was not,” Adrian said tightly.
“And you knew exactly what he was about, even though you pretended otherwise.”
“It was not subtle,” he agreed. “But since he did want me to react a certain way, it pleased me to take another tack to frustrate him. I do enjoy frustrating toad eaters like him.”
“I hope I never hear his voice again,” Rose said.
“He’d be an idiot to call upon you after this, but I’ll drop a word to your parents so they can make it clear to the household that you’ll never be home to him.”
