Her fears hadn’t made a bit of difference. She’d never considered how her stomach churned and pitched when she’d nothing to distract her within a small box hurtling forward at unhealthy speeds. Or how the walls of any carriage felt like they were slowly closing in.
And she had a feeling he wouldn’t believe her if she told him how scared she was right now. Not just of the carriage, but of what was between them. Scared to the point that her fear sometimes masqueraded as anger.
Nor would he believe that the simple motion of his thumb against her palm made everything feel so much better.
She wasn’t afraid ofallconfined spaces.
Southford’s priest hole had been her favorite place to hide. Inside, against the brick chimney, she’d felt safe in the warm and quiet and dark.
She felt the same way when she rested her head against Rayne’s shoulder, which made little sense, since he was about as harmless as an oil-soaked wick near a flame. And just as likely to ignite.
Ladies were permitted tears and fainting spells, but they were never permitted violent, inner volatility—the kind that Rayne spewed with abandon. The same kind that threatened to overflow when she was scared.
She, like every other lady, was expected to remain placid.
Passionless.
Which left men like Rayne—bursting at the seams with feeling—alone in a prison of their own want. She angled her gaze through lowered lashes. She shouldn’t be sympathetic to his ungoverned sentiments. Grit your teeth and persist was practically a national motto, andshe’dlearned to hide her extremes. But she’d had lessons—and protective siblings. Rayne—once the polish faded—was unvarnished human vehemence.
Perhaps that was why he fascinated.
They were the same, but raised vastly different. She only wished she knew how to bring their disparate parts together.
The carriage slowed. Rayne paused mid-pensive stroke. Their gazes met and held.
The silence between them reshaped into alarm.
“We’re stopping.” She noted the obvious, leaning forward. All she could see were rolling fields in either direction. “Why isn’t there a window in the front of this—”
“Traveling chariot,” Rayne supplied, already donning his coat. “Because a traveling chariot’s purpose is comfort. Iknewtaking it was a bad idea. ‘You’d be doing me a great favor,’ Farring said. Little did he know!” Rayne shook his head as he opened the door. “This is thelasttime I listen to him.”
Julia squinted as the door slammed closed.
Farringhad talked Rayne into taking the coach? Gooseflesh raised the hairs on her forearm. She’d done some outrageous things, but she never would have gone after Rayne without Farring’s encouragement. What had Farring argued?
You may be the last hope Rayne has.
Farring had suggested Rayne felt more for her than he’d revealed. Farring had arranged to deceive her family into believing she was staying with Miss Watson. All this, she knew. But knowing Farring had convinced Rayne to take the carriage in the first place? That changed everything. Could Farring have set an intentional trap for them both?
Her stomach swerved.
She’d always believed Farring to be a laughing, jovial sort of man, the kind who had no interest in meddling in the affairs of others. Except, clearly, hedidmeddle. He’d even admitted he meddled.
In fact, when she looked back on the past few years, she suspected he’d meddled even more than she’d previously understood. Like, for instance, the time he’d appointed himself Katherine’s escort when she and Bromton weren’t speaking, preventing Katherine from having to fend off an onslaught of undesired suitors. Like the time he’d convinced Markham to make his fake courtship of Clarissa real and bring her to Southford? Like the time he’d suggested Julia move in with his parents and share a come-out with his sister—which had ensured her societal success but also kept her from acting rashly in her anger over Rayne?
He’d been meddling all along.
She pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling as if she might be sick again.Sheknew she had intentionally set out to abduct Rayne, but Rayne did not.
What would he do if he found out she’d meant to alter his life, had colluded with Farring to do so, and then lied to him about her reason for going on this journey?
Naturally, he’d assume she’d been in on Farring’s deception from the start.
Outside the carriage, Rayne’s voice rose sharply. “I don’t believe you understood me. Wehaveto keep going.”
“I refuse,” the postilion answered, equally loud. “Youcan continue, if you’ve a mind to risk your neck. But I won’t go any farther. The river was lapping at the edge of the last two bridges. That we made it this far is sheer luck.”
“So you are just going to take your horses and abandon us and the carriage?”
