“On your honor?—”
“On my honor...and”—his eyes flashed—“everythingelse I hold dear, as that is the price you feel compelled to demand.”
Ash visibly relaxed. “Shall we plan the route, then? You must avoid the more heavily traveled roads; else you, or she, be recognized along the way.”
“And you’d rather we not be recognized?”
“Indeed, anonymity would be for the best.”
Hurtheven followed him over to his desk.
Lines on the map spread out in an incoherent web. He knew almost nothing about this woman—not her age, not her origin, not even her family. And yet, he’d been intrigued—no,spellbound—from the moment he’d laid eyes on that stray curl.
What trouble lay head he couldn’t fathom. But instinct told him protecting Mrs. Montrose from her foes, and from himself, just might prove to be his greatest labor yet.
ChapterFour
The Duke of Ashbey’s well-sprung carriage was as comfortable as Hera could have possibly wished. The coachman’s skill, above reproach. The roads they traveled...dry and reasonably maintained. Most importantly, the life-choking tension gripping Hera’s heart eased as each new mile stretched between herself and Karl’s Bow Street Runner.
In short, Hera had no reason for grievance.
Indeed, so long as she kept her gazeinsidethe carriage, she was fine. Given the oversized bonnet the Duchess of Ashbey had given her to better conceal her appearance, she had to crane her neck to see outside, anyway.
But even unseen, she couldn’t deny her physical awareness of the duke.
Hurtheven clip-clopped along the side of the carriage, deep voice rumbling above the sounds of creaking springs and rattling wood. In quieter moments, she caught fragments of his discussion with Delmare, centering mostly on sights of historic, architectural, or agricultural significance.
She’d thought she’d accurately taken his measure—a simple, arrogant, uncomfortably attractive bully, not unlike Karl. But his actions kept failing to meet her expectation.
Except on theuncomfortably attractivepart, of course.
This morning, he’d accepted this dramatic change to his plans without complaint or question—at least to the duchess. He’d retreated into Ash’s study and charted a route. Within an hour, a crestless carriage had been prepared, and they were on the road with a coachman, a groom, a footman, and a sparse collection of luggage. A cart with the bulk of the children’s luggage would follow once Hurtheven’s things from the Continent had been delivered.
He'd taken charge, yes, but less with arrogance than efficiency. Since then, he’d been considerate of the children’s needs, patient with their whims, and courteous to the staff, herself included.
Butmusthe also be—she turned her head—a fine horseman as well?
His body swayed in unison with the horse’s canter. His posture was erect, his arms, loose. He was the picture of strong, athletic stamina combined with confident, relaxed control. Taken together, those attributes made his rhythmic movement, in her appraisal, almost overtly sensual.
Again, she felt the warm prickle of pins and needles in places she ought not.
She snapped straight and then placed her hand over Fee’s closed parasol to stop her from bouncing the tip against the floor.
“Ugh. There’s nothing to do inside!” Fee slumped against the bench. “Why didn’t you let me keep my doll with me?”
“You decided you wanted your doll safely packed in the luggage—where she will not be ruined by dust or accidently lost, remember?”
She pursed up her lips in an expression that said she did recall but felt better assigning the blame to Hera. Then, her face brightened. “Next stop, Delmare and I will switch places, and thenIcan sit with the coachman.”
“It isn’t done for a young lady to sit on the box.”
“But Delmare can?”
She patted Fee’s knee. “I’m afraid so, love.”
Fee dropped the whalebone contraption. She hissed through her teeth and then folded her arms. “Notfair.”
Hera sighed. “I know, darling.” Nothing about being held to standards of propriety wasfair. And yet, following society’s rules was the price women paid for survival. Be one type of woman, and men cast themselves in the role of your champion. Be another, and you became a flower for plucking, a creature for their sport.
