“Lyra—”
“I shut Alister out after everything he’s done for me,” Lyra said quietly. “I’ve done him a grave injustice. I claimed to trust him, but at the first test of honor I betrayed him. I need to go to him…” She paused and then said more emphatically, “I needhim.”
While it was obvious Mara wavered, she still wasn’t convinced. “I’d feel better about this if you were to write him and wait…”
But Lyra was already shaking her head. “I’ve waited long enough. I’m going to do this with or without your blessing.”
Mara threw up her hands. “Who am I to stand in the way of true love? Besides—” She gave a wink “—I’d be lying through my teeth if I didn’t think this wasn’t terribly romantic.”
However, when Lyra explained her plans to Roarke, he wasn’t as moved. “Have you lost yoursenses?” he practically shouted. “Absolutely not! Alister would have my head on a platter for letting you go out on your own. It’s the end of December, for God’s sake! The weather could turn in an instant.” He shook his head. “No. I forbid it.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Lyra returned calmly. “Besides, do you truly think me such a fragile weakling after all I’ve endured thus far?”
Thus, half an hour later Lyra’s things had been bundled into Roarke’s finest sprung coach.
“I don’t like this. At. All,” he said with a dark scowl.
“You know you’d do the same for Mara,” Lyra said, rising up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll send a message the moment I arrive.”
“Foolishness undoubtedly runs in our bloodline,” her brother muttered in return, although he reached out and smothered her in a giant bear hug that only older brothers could give.
After a teary goodbye from Mara and Lavinia, Lyra climbed inside.
Lyra made it nearly six miles when disaster struck. Before she’d even made it out of London, sleet had started to fall. At first, it started out as a few gentle pings of ice on the windows, but by the time they left the city, it had begun to fall in steady sheets. For a moment she considered turning back, but she hated to prove her brother right and she was feeling desperate to reach Alister. Besides, it wasn’t as if Roarke’s coachman had never driven in such inclement weather before. They might even ride their way out of the storm soon.
It was going to be fine.
But just as they passed south of Greenwich, she heard the coachman shout to the team of four before one of the front wheels slid off the slippery road. With a gasp, Lyra braced for impact, fearing that they might roll over. But everything eventually quieted down, and she felt the coachman set the brake.
Seconds later, he wrenched open the door with a worried look on his face. “Are ye hurt, Your Grace?”
“I’m fine, John,” she said, although her voice was a bit shaky in spite of her reassurance. “How is the wheel?”
“I’m afraid that even with the Ackerman steering on Lord Eversleigh’s coach, the strain still broke the trigger. Fortunately, I was able to find the pin, but I’ll need to ride into the next village for help. Blackheath is only a mile up the road.”
Lyra nodded, for there was nothing else they could do under the circumstances. She certainly wasn’t about to mount a horse after her recent miscarriage scare, so she would have to wait for his return. At least there was still plenty of daylight left, even if the weather had turned rather gray and dismal.
“I have plenty of warm blankets to keep me warm, a travel basket from Cook, as well as a book to read. Rest assured I will be quite content until you return.” She wasn’t sure who she was trying to convince, but her bluff seemed to work.
“I shouldn’t be gone long.” With that, he disappeared from view.
However, after two hours had passed, Lyra was starting to feel that she might very well be stranded. The ice was starting to heavily coat the glass, giving credence to her worries that the storm was intensifying. To keep her mind positive and push aside any personal scoldings until another time, she dug into the basket to see what she might find to nibble on. She vowed to not only thank buthugRoarke’s cook when she saw her next when she discovered cold ham, cheese and two lovely red apples inside the basket.
She had just lifted the apple to her lips when the distinct sound of a slow-moving carriage reached her ears. She instantly put down the window to get a better look, hoping that the coachman had finally returned as promised. Squinting through the cold sting of wet ice hitting her face and bonnet, she spotted a hackney lumbering toward her instead. Thinking that this might be her only salvation, she began to wave frantically in order to flag down the driver.
Within seconds, her cloak was soaked, but it was worth it when the man spied her and called a halt to the team. She could hear a feminine voice ask from the darkness inside the other carriage. “Why are we stopping?”
Lyra was starting to shiver, but she ignored the chill seeping into her bones and called out to the coachman. “Might I prevail upon the goodwill of your mistress, sir? My carriage wheel has broken, and I fear my coachman may not return before dark.”
There was a slight pause. “Where are you heading?”
“To my husband’s estate in Chatham, but I would be glad for a ride to the local inn.”
“How fortuitous,” the woman called. “I was on my way south, so it should be no trouble to drop you off on the way.”
Lyra clenched her teeth to keep them from chattering. “If you will just allow me a moment to leave a message for my coachman in case he returns, so he will know where I am, I would greatly appreciate it.”
“Of course,” came the gentle reply.
