“Do you wish to alight?” he asked.
“How long will you be?”
“I’d like to reserve rooms, if they’re available.” His expression warmed. “For tonight.”
An odd sensation swerved through her stomach. “Won’t we head to the Grange tonight?”
His gaze moved to the window. “The caretakers aren’t expecting us.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I need to send word, give them time to…prepare.”
Reasonable enough.She exhaled. “I’ll wait.”
“Very well,” he replied.
He stepped down from the carriage, adjusted his coat, and strode into the inn—all presence and command. She marveled at the many sides of him she’d seen. Which was the side that would win out?
Silly to indulge such questions. For three days, he’d been all that was solicitous and caring. Her heart squeezed with affection. He’d intended to leave, but he’d resolved to stay.
What more could she possibly ask?
A tall man came out of the inn, shouted something to the crowd, and waved his arms. One by one they dispersed, all of them grumbling.
The man approached the carriage. “Good afternoon, Lady Rayne. I’m the head waiter, Thomas Atkinson. Your husband sent me to inquire after your comfort.”
Lady Rayne.
Husband.
Both would be permanently true in a few short hours. Doubtless she’d grow accustomed to the titles soon enough. This first time, however, left her breathless.
She opened the door and gave Atkinson her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Atkinson.” She stepped into the courtyard. “I could do with a glass of water.”
“I have a private parlor waiting,” he replied. “Right this way.”
She glanced through the hall and into the crowded tavern as she passed. Her heart stopped as she caught a flash of Miss Watson’s familiar white-haired profile.
Miss Watson turned. Then she rushed, arms outstretched, toward Julia. “Oh, heavens, child!”
Julia caught Miss Watson’s hands in her own. “Mr. Atkinson, might my friend join me?”
“Of course, Lady Rayne.”
Miss Watson’s gaze traveled between them. Julia sent a wide-eyed silent plea for understanding. Miss Watson nodded, released Julia’s hands, clutched her reticule to her chest, and followed Julia into a small, windowed room set with a table and chairs.
Miss Watson waited for Mr. Atkinson to close the door before speaking. “We’ve been searching for you for days! First, we were misdirected to London, and then—”
Julia’s throat dried. “When you say we…?”
“Rector Chandler and I, of course.”
The tiny room tilted. “Is the rector here?”
“No,” Miss Watson replied. “I am here with Lord Belhaven.”
“Belhaven?” Julia gasped.
“Sucha whirl you wouldn’t believe,” Miss Watson replied. “In London, Rector Chandler and I called on your sister and Lord Bromton—I had no idea how to proceed, after we lost you, you see. Why, you could have been anywhere…”
Julia could only imagine the scene.
