Elise nibbled on her beef stick before sinking her teeth into it, her appetite springing to life.
Mr. Ruffian didn’t waste time chewing on his piece. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall as if savoring the finest dinner. Elise studied him. She’d not lie. She was grateful for the company and for his help in this terrible adventure. Nor was he hard on the eyes, even in his ungroomed state... or perhaps because of it?
And then there was the dog. After finishing his beef, he’d laid his head on Mr. Ruffian’s leg and fallen into a snoring sleep. Didn’t dogs have some ability to sense out the motives of people? Elise had always thought they did. The dogs at Wiltham knew the difference between a guest and a stranger. They’d even been smart enough to growl at Richard when he’d made his first appearance.
Mr. Ruffian absently patted the dog’s head. Elise took in every movement as if they were a cypher to the man—
“So, who are you?” His deep voice interrupted her thoughts. “What is your name? And why are you traveling England alone on a night like this?” He hadn’t opened his eyes but spoke in staccato notes as if she owed him an answer.
She didn’t. The world must never know that Miss Elise Lanscarr spent a night with the likes of him, even in these circumstances. Even if nothing untoward happened, which it wouldn’t. She knew how to take care of herself.
“I’m going to sleep,” she replied, taking her cue from the dog. But first, she needed to... have a moment of privacy. She also realized she was very thirsty after the salted meat. That meant going outside.
Elise stood. She would have to step around him to reach the door. Reasoning that she needn’t explain herself to him, she started moving in that direction.
He turned so that his legs, crossed at the ankles, blocked her way.
“Where are you going?” he asked. His eyes were open now.
“Excuse me?” she said pointedly, frowning at his legs in her path.
He lifted a brow. No duke, she thought, could have had a better brow lift. Then he raised a hand as if silently divining what she planned. Slowly, as if with great effort, he stood. “Here, you will do better wearing my coat in that mess out there.”
“I don’t—”
“Take it.” He had already shrugged out of it. He was wearing a deep marine jacket over what had once been a white shirt, the neckcloth tied in a loose knot as if he couldn’t be bothered with any formality. He held the oilskin out to her. “Goon. The one you are wearing is all but soaked through. You’d be best to leave it here.”
He was right. Still, she hung back. All the money she owned was in the pocket of the cloak.
Mr. Ruffian shook his head as if she annoyed him. “You needn’t be afraid of me, lass. You don’t even tempt me.”
Not tempt him?Elise had never heard those words. She attracted most men, and then she realized that she probably resembled a drowned rat more than a pampered debutante.
He shook the coat he held in his hand.
Outside, the rain kept its steady beat. She took his coat.
“You might wish to remove your cloak. Let it dry,” he repeated.
Elise hesitated, but then decided that if she returned and the money hidden in its deep pocket was missing, she would wait until he was asleep and lash into him in such a way he’d never thieve again.
Decision made, Elise removed Tweedie’s cloak, folded it once, and set it on the ground.
“What in deuces are you wearing?” he asked in astonishment. “Is this some new fashion? Can’t say I admire it.”
Elise felt her cheeks heat up. She wore three of her best dresses. One on top of the other. Her elegant muslin gown was beneath a sensible walking dress, which was beneath a sprigged muslin day dress. It made for an odd pattern.
The reason she had on three of her best dresses was that she had not wanted to be caught sneaking away from the house with a valise. She also hadn’t wanted to carry the heavy leather bag on a Mail Coach. It would become tiresome. Besides, in her anger over the marriage and living arrangements, she’d been spending a great deal of time at her friend Lady Whitby’s house. She reasoned that her sisters would see the valise stuffed under her wardrobe and assume she could not have run off far if it was still there.
Still, she’d needed something to wear in Ireland, and wearing three frocks had seemed the best solution.
She threw his oilskin around her. The greatcoat engulfed her. That didn’t matter. She wanted to block his critical gaze, and her needs had been growing since they had started sparring over the coat. She wrapped it around her, lifting the collar to cover her head, and, without a word in his direction, moved out into the night.
It didn’t take long to see to her business. She didn’t even have to travel far because it was dark and somewhat scary to be out here alone. Relieved, she splashed rainwater in her hands before cupping them to catch what she could and taking a drink.
For a moment, she considered staying out in the night. The rain was soft and gentle now. There was no more thunder or lightning. Still, it was wet. Muddy wet. She was also tired. Nowthat she had let herself relax, exhaustion was taking over.
Elise looked toward the hut with the warm glow of a fading fire coming through the doorway. Mr. Ruffian had sat back down again. She could see his long leg stretched out. The dog waited on his haunches in the doorway as if concerned for her return.
