She cleared her throat. “Flattered as I am, for one, you don’t love me.”
“No,” he cheerfully agreed. “But Ilikeyou, and that’s more than I can say for most.”
“You like everybody.”
He pushed up his glasses. “No. No, I don’t.”
“What about Mrs. Van—”
He put his fingers to her lips.
She pulled them away. “You,” she said with narrowed eyes, “want me to kidnap Rayne, but you won’t let me say aloud whateveryone already knows?”
“Rather more anearlnap than akidnap. And one hopeless situation at a time, my dear. One at a time.” He smiled. “So…do we have a plan?”
His idea was more absurd than anything she’d ever devised on her own, and that was saying something. Then again, a familiar rush was skidding through her body, making her feel more alive than she had for weeks.
Which begged the question—didshe actually want to abduct Rayne…?
Of course she did. She’d never felt anything as strong as the current between them. She wanted him. Badly. Wasted lovewasthe worst thing she could imagine.
And what if she did successfully manage to expropriate Rayne’s carriage and hestillrefused to acknowledge their connection?
Well then, she’d settle for making him very, very sorry.
She took a deep breath and shook Farring’s outstretched hand. “We have a plan.”
She was going to abduct an earl.
Exactly what she’d do with him once she had him depended entirely on him.
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Chapter Three
Julia supposed being the only boy in a group of six highly opinionated siblings had honed Farring’s evasive skills, but she never imagined him capable of the cunning he’d displayed as he helped her prepare to depart—spymaster brilliance with a sprinkle of smudged-glasses charm.
As the handle on the back of the duke’s traveling chariot jostled beneath her glove, she could hardly believe they had succeeded in foolingeveryone.
Thus far.
No one undertaking such a complicated enterprise succeeded by underestimating future hurdles. And their present successdidowe a great deal to distraction. Markham had naturally been anxious to be alone with Clarissa. Bromton had been attentive to the needs of her pregnant sister, his wife. Consumed with their own preparations for departure, no one else had bothered to inquire.
And so, when the caravan had headed for London, everyone inside the three well-sprung carriages had been secure in the belief that, until Markham and Clarissa returned from their wedding trip, Julia would be safely ensconced with Miss Watson.
Which is how it came to be that, late in the afternoon, breasts bound, hair tucked up beneath a cap, and wearing a hodgepodge of clothing, including the livery Farring had provided, Julia made her way to the local inn and coaching stable, The Pillar of Salt. She quietly stabled her horse as previously agreed—Miss Watson had no barn, and the inn was far closer to her lodgings than Southford—and then, she waited.
When Lizzy, the innkeeper, announced that the traveling chariot was ready, Julia went into position. Teddy, the smallest of the local postilions, guided the compact, glossy carriage away from the Pillar, and then Julia swung up onto the back rail.
She had no words for the thrill of embarking on such an adventure. In fact, for the first hour, she existed on exhilaration alone.
The wind tickled her cheeks, the anticipation livened her blood, and any outcome she imagined seemed possible, from Rayne finally declaring his love to, well, the opposite. Of course, in the former case, she vowed to make him grovel. If he chose to deny what was between themand run away again, this time she’d happily help him on his way.
Theremustbe a pirate or two off the coast of Northern Englandsomewhere. She rolled her neck. If not, she’d drop him off with smugglers. Or Nordic traders. Or a press gang. Or maybe even one of those infamous one-way fishing boats to Newfoundland.
At mile six, just before Teddy stopped to water the horses, she quietly dismounted the slowing coach and disappeared into a copse.
Just in time, too.
