Father nodded. “Yes, yes of course. Anything I have is yours.”
Andrew smiled, though the falsehood in that grated at him. By law, nothing Father had was Andrew’s. It was all borrowed until the time his father died, and it passed to Geoffrey. It was on Andrew alone to find his way in the world.
In hardly any time at all, a hunter was saddled, and Andrew was moving freely through the chill air. Maybe his ride would be a short one, what with the sun beginning to fall in the sky, and the temperature already as low as it was.
He urged the hunter into a canter, as he gave his thoughts free rein as well. What would be the best place for Sophie to stay while in London? Selfishly, he hoped to find her lodgings near him. Masochistic it may be, but he wished to court her for the short time he had. How would he manage it, though, when her job required her to be married, and all their town believed the same? Could he request the privilege of courting her in private? And she had no maid of her own—who would provide chaperone and attend her in London and then in Durham?
The same questions had plagued him all day. They tumbled about his mind, as if repetition would solve the tangle.
Subconsciously, he turned the horse toward the Renard estate. His thoughts had been there all evening; why not his physical self? Even if he could not see Sophie, something in that made him feel better.
When the cold began to bite at his nose and ears more than was comfortable, he slowed the horse to a walk. He’d come nearly as far as the outer reaches of the Renard estate, and it would have to be far enough for today. He began to turn the horse round when a figure down the lane caught his eye. Usually, he was not one for idle conversation with neighbors, and especially not with his mind in the state it was, but this figure was decidedly a woman.
His honor would not allow him to leave the lady alone. Especially this close to sunset.
Dismounting, he walked the horse a handful of steps closer when the woman’s identity became clear.
“Sophie?”
Her head had been bowed, but it snapped up. “Andrew,” she breathed, shoulders slumping.
He lengthened his stride.
“What happened?” he asked, eyes taking in the carpetbag in her hand. “Are you well?”
She shook her head, the action sharp and short as she came to a stop in front of him, in the middle of the lane. Her hand was white around the bag’s handle, and her features were tight. “My parents claim they simply allowed the neighborhood to believe that I was married, but I am certain that is not the case. They were ashamed of what took me to Bristol, and chose—willfullylied—to tell everyone that I had married.” She swallowed, pacing past him and his horse.
He turned the hunter around to follow her, but did not miss the way her fingers swiped beneath her eyes when she was turned from his view.
But then she spun, and her anger and pain was etched into every curve of her cheek and mouth. Every line about her eyes. The emotions were brought into sharp contrast as the sun peeked between the trees, spotlighting her face. “And that is not all. They have determined that they can cover the lie… How, you might ask? By finding me a true husband—they’ve already picked one out, even. I need only meet the man, marry him, and be done with the affair.”
“Pray, tell me you jest,” he said, momentarily frozen to the spot.
Her voice was disgusted. “I only wish I were.” She shook her head, hands suddenly limp at her sides. “I am so sorry, Andrew. I could not stay. I… I did not know what to do. Your home was the closest.”
“You intended towalkto my home?”
“It is only just above a mile or two.”
“It is nearly six miles by road, Sophie. And it would have grown dark, and cold, and—” Blast it all, why could this woman not have the smallest measure of self-preservation? She was going to killhimif she continued on in this matter.
But then he caught sight of her expression. Miserable. Depleted. He moved to her side, gently guiding her to his horse. “Come, I will take you the rest of the way. My father will host you for the night.”
“I couldn’t—” she cut herself off, lifting her gaze to the sky in apparent frustration. “I must, I suppose, as I have given myself no other options. Drat, Andrew, I am so sorry I keep putting you in this position.”
“It is only fair. I have had half a decade without your impositions.”
“Ah, so I am only fulfilling a long-neglected role,” she said. But his jest had worked, and her countenance was a little lighter.
“Precisely. With impressive skill, I might add.” He cupped his hands to give her a boost, then looked at the sun. It had begun to paint the sky in reds and oranges, and there was not time for him to walk the horse back.
Resigned to the impropriety, he handed up her carpet bag, preparing to climb up behind her.
She perched sideways in the saddle, the bag in her lap, eyes on him.
He loosened the reins, then carefully pulled himself up behind the saddle, putting his arms to either side of her.
Her bonnet obscured his view of the road, but she must have realized because she removed it, adding it to her bundle in her lap. The situation was awkward, but more than that, it wasclose. Her forehead came to hischin, and when he opened his mouth to dispel the discomfiture, she looked up, and it became even more intimate.
