“Comfortable?” Lockwood asked with false solicitude as he took the seat opposite her. “I do hope you’re not too fatigued. We have a long night ahead of us.”
“Where are we?” she asked, though she suspected she knew the answer.
“About forty miles north of London,” he replied, checking his pocket watch. “Making excellent time, actually.”
The serving girl returned with a tray of simple fare—dark bread, hard cheese, and pewter mugs of ale. Courtney’s stomach rumbled despite her circumstances; she’d eaten nothing sincebreakfast, and the chloroform had left her feeling hollow and weak.
“You must eat something,” Lockwood said, cutting a piece of bread and holding it out to her. “Can’t have you fainting at the altar.”
The casual way he spoke of their forced wedding made her skin crawl, but she accepted the bread gratefully. She refused to let the fact he was hand feeding her put her off eating. She needed strength for whatever opportunity might present itself.
As she ate, she continued to study the room and its occupants. Murphy kept glancing toward the courtyard, clearly nervous about potential pursuit. Briggs seemed more relaxed, but his hand never strayed far from his pistol. And Lockwood… There was something brittle about his confidence now, a crack in his composure that hadn’t been there in London.
His bravado was waning. He probably knew Lucien would be fast approaching.
“Horses are ready, gov’nor,” came a call from the courtyard.
Lockwood stood immediately, his relief evident. “Excellent. Come, my dear. Time to continue our romantic journey.”
They moved back through the inn’s common area, past travelers settling in for the night or preparing for their own departures. Courtney found herself cataloguing faces, hoping desperately that someone might remember them if questioned later.
In the courtyard, the carriage with fresh horses awaited with four horses rather than two. Clearly, Lockwood was serious about making up time.
As they approached the carriage, Courtney made her decision. The stable was perhaps thirty yards away, the straw pile clearly visible in the flickering torchlight. If she could break free for just a few seconds…
“I need a moment,” she said suddenly, stopping dead in her tracks. “Private business.”
Lockwood’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What sort of business?”
Courtney felt heat rise in her cheeks, though this time it was genuine embarrassment rather than performance. “The sort that requires…privacy. Surely you understand.”
For a moment, she thought he might refuse. Then he gestured impatiently toward a small building that clearly served as the inn’s necessary. “Briggs will escort you. And be quick about it.”
The scarred man moved to her side, his grip firm on her arm as they walked toward the small structure. Murphy remained by the carriage while Lockwood supervised the loading of their luggage.
Once she’d relieved herself, she looked around. This was her chance. Her only chance.
On the way back to the conveyance, Courtney pretended to stumble again, this time falling heavily against Briggs. The man cursed and loosened his grip to steady himself, and in that instant, she broke free.
She ran.
Not toward the inn’s entrance where people might help—Lockwood’s threats against innocent bystanders were too real to ignore. Instead, she bolted toward the back of the stables, her skirts hampering her stride but adrenaline lending her speed.
“Bloody hell!” Briggs shouted behind her. “She’s running!”
Courtney saw a hole in the back stable wall and crawled through it just as shouts erupted behind her. Without hesitation, she dove into the pile of fresh straw, burrowing deep into its scratchy embrace. The sweet smell of hay filled her nostrils as she pulled armfuls of the stuff over herself, trying to become invisible.
She heard the men reach the corner of the stable. “Where did she go?” Lockwood’s voice, sharp with fury. “It’s so hard to see in the dark. Grab some lanterns,” he bellowed.
“She might have run for the woods just beyond the house up there,” Briggs replied, breathing heavily from his pursuit.
“Then find her, you fool! She can’t have gone far with her hands bound.”
Footsteps pounded past her hiding place as the men spread out to search. Courtney pressed herself deeper into the straw, trying to control her breathing despite the way her heart hammered against her ribs.
“Women. Flighty aren’t they. What did you do?” He laughed. “Probably ran off into the fields,” one of the ostlers suggested. “Seen it before with nervous young ladies. They come to their senses quick enough when they realize they’re alone in the dark.”
“The fields,” Lockwood mused. “Yes, that makes sense. She’d want to get as far from here as possible.”
