“Scotland.”
I left his unasked question unanswered, considering him for a moment. “I wouldn’t let them hang you, you know.”
“You would have very little in the way of choice.”
“We’re not going to be caught.”
“Of course.”
“We’re not. I sent Mother to Bath with Cee’s Mama and friend. Cee is still a newlywed, she rarely comes up for air. And Xander is in Scotland. No one will be looking for me.”
“The servants will notice your absence.”
“All in my debt, or I know their secrets. Every single one.”
His gaze was heavy, thoughtful. “You’re a terrifying little thing. Did you know that?” There was nothing in his words or tone, nothing in his eyes nor the downturn of his lips that lent itself toward my interpretation, but his words felt like a compliment.
“I’m taller than you.”
“Everyone is taller than me,” he said with a one-shouldered shrug. “I think we’re the same height anyway.”
“Do you need spectacles as well?”
He huffed another half laugh. I’d earned so many and our journey had barely begun. Perhaps I would receive full-throated laughter before we reached the border. “Probably. Only from too much time spent trying to read all the documents in your folder.”
“You should really make improvements to your penmanship.”
“I’ll take it under advisement.” He glanced out the window once again. We’d finally abandoned the rutted cobblestone city streets for the worn dirt roads between London and Edmonton.
This part of the journey was familiar to me. It had been years since I’d visited our ancestral home in Yorkshire, since before Father passed at least. But in my youth, we made the journey there and back at least once a year.
“Can you tell me what you had planned for coaching inns and the like? Or is that a secret as well?” he asked, still contemplating the road ahead.
“I never said we would stop at coaching inns.”
“So you don’t intend to stop at the Old Bell in Enfield?” Reading my surely astonished expression, he continued, “I’m from Lincolnshire, remember? I’ve made the journey a fair few times.”
“I thought to call you my brother?”
There was no discernible movement in his face, yet it seemed as though his frown deepened. “It might work. But closer to Grantham there might be folks who recognize me.”
I raised a questioning brow.
“Clergyman’s son. Or, more specifically, clergyman’s wife’s son. Mother dragged the three of us all about the county with her on visits.”
“Oh, well, we have quite a bit of time before that becomes a concern.”
“I don’t suppose you packed anything to eat?” he asked, then tipped his head back against the wooden seat.
“I did, actually,” I replied with a grin.
When I didn’t offer any additional information, one eye peeked open. I tugged free the trunk that was hidden beneath our bench seat and unlatched it.
At the sight of two little fairy cakes resting neatly at the top, he perked up and shifted forward in his seat.
“Hudson’s?”
“Is there anywhere else to get them?”
