The horse leapt into motion at her rider’s command just as Tabetha risked a glance backward, bemused at their unlikely escape. One of Culpepper’s servants was assisting the duke to his feet, but the two henchmen writhed on the ground—one of them, bloodied, holding his jaw, and the other, clutching at his groin.
Had she foreseen any of this happening, she admitted to herself, she believed she might have settled for an earl instead.
“You should have handedover the damn cat,” Stone growled, his jaw stinging and one eye already swelling closed.
“Try telling that to the cat! Archie was having none of it,” she grumbled in front of him. “Besides. It was a good idea, you have to admit. If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have gone along with it.”
“You didn’t allow me a choice in the matter.” He’d been willing to argue with Culpepper, or Tabetha, but not both of them at the same time. Or perhaps he needn’t have argued with either of them. “Maybe I should have just let him have both of you.”
He didn’t mean it. Well, not where the cat was concerned, but there was no way in hell he would have simply handed Lady Tabetha over. Even if she was the most frustrating, spoiled,infuriatingdebutante in all of England.
He tugged her closer to him, uncomfortable with how close Culpepper had come to claiming her.
He’d foolishly underestimated Culpepper’s desperation, thinking it was merely common courtesy to inform the man that his fiancée hadn’t been kidnapped by highwaymen or carried away by a wild animal. He’d thought to put the duke’s mind at ease knowing she’d merely changed her mind. And he’d hoped the duke would be as motivated as anyone to keep news of the aborted elopement from becoming London’s latest scandal.
He’d thought wrong.
“What should we do now?” She didn’t sound nearly as defiant as she had a minute ago.
Stone smoothed her hair, which, like the person it was attached to, seemed set on annoying him.
“We’ll take a room in town.”
“But won’t he come after us?”
“He won’t try anything while there are witnesses about.” Culpepper would wait to attack until they were alone again. The key was to not give the blighter a chance.
A plan, simple though it was, was taking shape in his mind. “We’ll get food, some rest, and hunker down. I’ve no doubt that by now, your brother is headed in this direction. Likely, Blackheart has sent a band of his men as well. Doubtless, they’ll show up within three or four days.”
Hiding out wasn’t exactly his preferred course of action, but with Tabetha involved, it was the safest one.
“So… we’ll hide from him? At an inn?” she asked. With his hand curved over her abdomen, he felt, so much as heard her dramatic sigh. “I’m bored silly just thinking about it.”
“I’m happy for some boredom.” And food. And sleep. Preferably in that order.
Visions of steaming meat stew, a stiff drink, and a warm bed danced in his head as he pulled up on the reins outside of a modest-looking inn,The Tartan Scarf.
After dragging Tabetha and the damned cat off the horse, he handed off Poppy, flipping a coin to the groomsman with particular instructions that she received a full rubdown and the best grain he had. If he was going to break a promise to anyone, by god, it wasn’t about to be a horse.
Inside the taproom, a middle-aged gentleman stood behind a tall desk, watching the three of them warily over his spectacles. Stone probably ought to have taken a moment to wipe the blood off his face. He glanced down. His hands were bloodied as well.
“Welcome to The Tartan Scarf. A single chamber for you, then?” the man asked in an accent that reminded Stone they’d crossed into Scotland.
“That’s correct.” Stone palmed a coin onto the counter and mustered an enthusiastic smile before Tabetha could offer up her opinion on their lodgings. He needed to protect her from Culpepper until Westerley or Blackheart arrived, and he couldn’t protect her if he wasn’t in the same room as her.
“Mr. and Mrs. Rock Chester. Married the little woman today, isn’t that right, honeybunch?”
He dropped an arm around her shoulder and squeezed her against him.
This was the perfect opportunity to get under her skin. After her harrowing experience, she might even give up on her ridiculous quest to become a duchess. She might even admit he’d been right.
Although he wouldn’t wager on it.
She squirmed, clutching the ridiculous cat, but he didn’t relax his hold.
“How many nights will you need, Sir?” The innkeeper reached for the money and then slid his guest book across for Stone to sign.
“Three, perhaps more.” Stone waggled his eyebrows, sliding a lecherous glance to the lady at his side. “We’ve traveled a long way for this.”
