Finch barely took the time to piss that mornin’ and headed straight to Berkley Square just in time to see her carriage pullin’ away. Hellfire, it was only nine in the mornin’. No nob he knew left their home before two in the afternoon. He was able to follow her conveyance on foot. But once she reached the far side of Hyde Park, he was forced to hire a hack. “Keep the white rig in sight,” he told the driver.
An hour later, he stopped at the Swan & Crow for somethin’ to eat. The woman was on a mission, and now he had a somewhat of an idea of the direction she was headed…
Finch needed a ’orse from ’ere forward, he decided. He paid the driver and sent him on ’is way.
An hour later, he again spotted his quarry. He be the luckies sombitch t’ever live. The lady was standing outside her carriage, starin’ at the broke wheel.
A sittin’ duck as it were.
Three
The original plan to leave the day before had not worked out for Rebecca. Neither had the nice weather, she thought with disgust. Good weather was as fleeting as a two-time winning horse at Newmarket. A misting drizzle saturated the air, Rebecca’s pelisse and gloves, and her hatless head.
She was exhausted after being up half the night, tossing and turning and worrying over a very quiet Owen. But for a few shrill cries, he had yet to utter a coherent word to her, though she suspected he whispered things to his brother.
Both boys were tromping in the woods with her no-nonsense maid, Serena, and were as energetic as ever. It was a good sign. They all needed the exercise and fresh air after being cooped up in the carriage the last hour, and she supposed there wasn’t too much trouble they could get into in the with no one nor anything about as far as the eye could see.
Unfortunately, she had a more pressing matter at the moment. She stood outside the carriage with her hands planted on her hips, staring at the carriage’s cracked wheel. Only an hour outside of London and disaster had already struck. Such was her dastardly luck. “Someone should invent a way to carry an extra wheel for this exact inconvenience,” she told Barrett. “Now what?”
The ground vibrated with the pounding of horses’ hooves. More than one.
“Ah, a timely rescue, it seems,” Barrett said. He sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, my.”
“What?” Rebecca put her hand up, shielding her eyes from the light rain. She’d long sense abandoned her limp bonnet. It was sitting on the bench inside her carriage.
“I do believe that is the Duke of Ryleigh’s rig.”
“Ryleigh?” Rebecca groaned, then cringed thinking of the last time they’d had the misfortune to meet—in the dark gardens of hers and Gabby’s joint come-out ball. He’d only been a marquis at the time. Heavens, just what she didn’t need.
Even before that horrid evening, she and Gabby had been flung into mischief after mischief at Miss Greensley’s School of Comportment for Young Ladies of Quality. Gabby’s brother, who was a stickler for propriety, had been called out on each and every occasion until he’d finally yanked Gabby out of school, likely blaming Rebecca for every unfortunate incident. She hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye to her friend. Papa had whisked her away, all the while suffering a debilitating fever and almost losing a limb in the process.
In any event, Rebecca thought, blowing out a pursed breath, she was not above accepting her due of his accusation—she’d beenhalfresponsible.
She pushed the wet locks from her forehead and blinked the rain from her eyes. “I suppose we’ve no choice in the matter,” she muttered as the duke’s carriage heralded toward them. But she wasn’t quite up to facing him at the moment. “I’m going to find the boys. See what you can do to secure his assistance to the next posting inn. We’ll hire another rig there.” She slipped away, hoping Ryleigh didn’t spot her as she made her escape.
Down a slight incline, she found Serena standing next to a tree watching Oliver and Owen on the banks of the Thames seeing who could throw pebbles the farthest. Thankfully, neither one had taken a dip. While the river wasn’t nearly so repulsive in the rurality as it was in London, she still didn’t trust that the water wasn’t riddled with disease.
“Are they behaving?” she asked her maid.
“Perfect little gentlemen, they are,” Serena said. “Why’d you suppose the one doesn’t speak?”
“I suspect he speaks to his brother, though I can’t imagine why he won’t address me. They are well-mannered, aren’t they.” Rebecca kept her voice low. “By the way, the Duke of Ryleigh is coming down the road. There’s no way to keep him from recognizing me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I. I have a feeling it’s directly related to Gabriella inviting me to Dorchester,” she said grimly. “Unfortunately, there’s no way to keep my identity from him.” Of course, Serena knew all about that horrendous night seven years ago. No one else did, however.
“’Tis a problem, I s’pose? What are you going to do?” Serena asked.
“Improvise. Boys,” Rebecca called out.
They responded immediately, standing in front of her, but only Oliver spoke. “Yes, Lady Rebecca, we’re here.”
“It appears we are to be rescued. By a duke. The Duke of Ryleigh.”
“Blimey!” Oliver said. It sounded more like a curse than of shock then awe. The most proper duke would be disappointed in such a reaction. From Rebecca’s memory and Gabriella’s complaints, Ryleigh had grown even more somber and controlling since their father’s death when he took over the dukedom. Apparently, he’d always walked the straight line. No room for human error. Rebecca’s foot tapped the ground nervously. She caught herself and forced her foot to still.
There was a glint in Oliver’s eye that Rebecca would swear was fear. It quickly shifted to calculating. Owen, of course, stood by watching with his unnerving, and too observant, gaze.
