“You won’tpermitit?” Her rage startled him. Min got stubborn and quiet. She didn’t speak with cold fury. Not until now. “You are not in charge of me!”
“When you’re here in London under my protection—”
“I am Miss Sedgewick’s guest now.”
“Min—” he said in a furious whisper. The captain was almost upon them.
“And don’t call me Min. I hate it.”
He sat back, dizzy, trying to— “What?”
“Lucy. My name is Lucy.”
Stunned, he let out a breath, but his heart was racing, telling him to panic. He flexed the loop of rein between his gloved fingers, leather tight on leather. But Sedge was pulling up alongside, and it didn’t matter if she was Lucy or Min or the Queen of Sheba, he absolutelyhadto keep her safe.
“Min, Lucy, listen,” he whispered in one last desperate attempt, “you know nothing of the world, you’re entirely helpless and naïve—”
“Thank you!”
“—and you’re too ignorant and unworldly—”
“What an afternoon!” called Sedgewick, beaming, and putting an end to any private conversation.
Jack, gritting his teeth, glanced wryly up at the iron sky. “Quite. What a happy coincidence to find you here, Sedge.”
The man smiled as though there’d been no dark sarcasm. “Isn’t it just? And see, Miss Fanshaw, here’s another happy coincidence: I’m now in possession of both a vehicleandyour promise to let me drive you.”
Jack opened his mouth to retort, but Min—Lucy—spoke first.
“Thatisa happy coincidence, Captain Sedgewick. But happiest of all was, if I recall, your promise to drive me wherever my heart desired?”
The captain gave as elegant a bow as his seated position allowed. “Absolutely, Miss Fanshaw! I am your servant.”
“Then,” she said, climbing nimbly down from the curricle before Jack could move to offer his assistance, “I would be very grateful if you could drive me back to your house. I have a terrible headache, and unfortunately Lord Orton finds he is otherwise engaged.”
Jack could do nothing but watch as she was driven away, the captain’s parting wink causing his lip to curl.
Fifteen
“Whatever is the matter?” Miss Sedgewick said, entering Lucy’s bedroom on the heels of a faint knock. “I heard you come in and rush upstairs. A headache? Tell me Jack didn’t rattle your poor bones over all those dreadful roads.”
“Yes.” Lucy sniffed, a miserable swaddle of tangled sheets and tear dampened pillows. In other circumstances she would have been mortified at being found in such a pathetic state. But she had no mortification left. Her humiliation was complete. “It is…a headache.”
“Mm, so I see.” Miss Sedgewick sat on the corner of the bed. “One of those pesky headaches in the region of the heart, perhaps.”
Those words nearly made the organ in question stop completely. She sat up in alarm, pushing handfuls of curls from her face. “No! What do you mean? No, it was just the roads, the rattling…”
“Of Jack’s voice?” suggested Miss Sedgewick, chuckling. “That would do it, for sure.”
Lucy was betrayed into a sodden laugh, which was just as quickly followed by an inconvenient wave of tears at the remembrance of Jack’s voice and all the things it had said.
Miss Sedgewick rather awkwardly patted her shoulder. “Why all this misery? Surely these should be tears of joy. I hear I’m to offer you congratulations!”
Again, her heart thudded in panic. “What…whatever do you mean?”
“You are suddenly a great heiress! It’s every young girl’s greatest dream.”
Thank goodness! Jack hadn’t, it seemed, announced their supposed engagement to the world. But the current rumour was hardly welcome.
