“You can’t keep me from her.” Leopold felt his hackles rise. Did this arrogant prick think he could keep Leopold from Amelia?
Winterhope’s next words, however, dispelled Leopold’s knee-jerk reaction. “She’s not in there. But I’ll take you to her.” And then, with a tilt of his head, he gestured back toward the staircase.
Leopold only paused for a moment. As one of the few nobs who actually cared about his code of honor, the marquess never lied.
At least, to Leopold’s knowledge, anyhow.
“I was hoping you would come,” he said, shuffling around Leopold. The other man looked more tired than normal, but was otherwise as impeccable as ever.
“She and my wife actually believed I’d just send her off like that. After all the trouble we’d gone to protecting her.” He ducked his head and descended to the pub. More curious than ever, Leopold followed silently.
Marching across the yard, at least, the noise from the women’s shouting match faded into the background.
“You’ll find her hidden in the back of your man’s cart.” Winterhope pointed behind the carriage house. “He wasn’t going to leave without letting me know. Now that you’re here, however, I’m going to see what I can do to quiet that woman. You cannot imagine…” To Leopold’s utter shock, Winterhope actually rolled his eyes.Winterhope.
The bloke was almost likeable this morning.
But Leopold was more curious about the cart. If this was what he thought it was, Winterhope might deserve more credit than he’d been given.
“Lady Amelia,” Leopold clarified, “Is hiding in Wooley’s farmer’s cart.”
“That she is.”
Interesting… Leopold could hardly believe his good luck.
The marquess tugged at his cravat just then, however, and stared at him pointedly. “Beckworth,” he said.
“Yes?”
“Don’t mess this up.”
Because Amelia deserved to be happy. In a rare moment of agreement, Leopold dipped his chin. “Right.”
But he’d wasted enough time already. Catching sight of the familiar cart that Wooley used to make the occasional delivery to London, Leopold’s stomach did a little flip.
Without consciously deciding to do so, he was running.
Because she was near. He didn’t care who her mother was, or that his past had ruined him for her, he just needed…
Amelia.
Without bothering to properly untether the knots, he tugged on a few ropes and, with a single jerk, threw the tarp off the cart.
And there she slept.
HOLDING HANDS
It wasn’t the sound that woke her, or the light. It was the rush of cold air.
And the feeling that someone was looking at her.
But when she opened her eyes…
Was she dreaming?
“Mr.—” Her voice sounded more like a croak. She tried again. “Mr. Beckworth?”
Dark eyes softened, and in them, she saw everything she ever wanted.
