But that wasn’t real. That life wouldn’t happen. I would have to forsake everything I’d worked for, everything I was, and accept the damned title—not that she would agree, even if I did.
I was a self-made man. It was the source of my greatest pride. I hadn’t leveraged my grandfather’s title to enter the law. I earned the position as a clerk at Will’s on my own merit. I worked day in and day out for years on a pittance. Admittedly, it was a slightly more generous pittance than other offices in the area, but a pittance nonetheless. And I impressed Will day after day until he made me a partner. My father was a clergyman ofno particular import. And no one gave a damn that I was the grandson of an earl.
Until they did.
Suddenly the world decided I was different, even though I was precisely the same man I always had been.
“Mr. Summers?” And there it was, the one person in the world who had never, ever called me Lord Leighton. I remained Mr. Summers to Lady Davina alone.
“Yes? Oh, yes. It is very good.”
“Are you quite well? You’re a little flushed.”
“I—it has just been quite an eventful day,” I replied, then added under my breath, “It’s not every day that I’m abducted.”
“I like to ensure your days are exciting.”
“Exciting? I suppose fits of apoplexy are exciting.”
Her laugh was full and bright. “Are you almost finished? We need to be onward to the next excitement.”
“I’m not certain my heart can take much more, but yes.” I tossed a few coins on the table and nodded at the serving maid a few tables away.
Lady Davina rose and slipped her hand into the crook of my elbow as she allowed me to escort her out.
Back in the courtyard, Rory and Alfie were prepared for the next leg of our journey. Our horses seemed as rested as they were capable of. At the sight of us, Alfie hopped off his barrel and moved to unstrap the door.
As we settled back in our respective seats, the lad buckled the door again with an ominous, “Good luck.”
It was then that I realized the last rays of the sun were kissing the horizon out my window. New understanding left me wary. There were no lamps inside the carriage, not that I was overly confident in the safety and efficacy of the ones on the exterior. Darkness would soon fall, and with it, the last vestiges of propriety.
Eight
NORTH ROAD—APRIL 10, 1817
DAVINA
There wassomethingintimateabout the near blackness that I hadn’t considered in my plan. Even with the beat of the hooves and the unintelligible murmurs of Alfie and Rory up ahead. The carriage’s interior was its own little world, Mr. Summers and I the only inhabitants.
“Should have saved the fairy cake,” he whined into the darkness, breaking the silence.
“Would you believe I had forgotten that I did save mine.”
“Yes. I was debating trying to sneak it without you noticing.
I gasped in mock offense. “Mr. Summers! You would steal from a lady?”
“No, not from a lady.” I heard the shifting of fabric and felt more than saw him turn toward me. “But from you…”
“Well, I never!”
He huffed a breath in that way I was coming to understand was his version of a chuckle. “My Aunt Prudence’s missing snuffbox says otherwise.”
“What snuffbox?”
“The one you pilfered from my aunt at Katie’s wedding. While you were pretending you hadn’t been eavesdropping.”
“You remember that?”
