She stared at him. “So you chose to remove me without my consent.”
“There was no alternative. You would not have agreed to go.”
“You’re certainly right about that!” She folded her arms. “Tell me why you consider this necessary.”
“To keep you safe.”
“I was safer in London than I am now.”
He sighed. “You’re wrong about that. Did I not make it clear to you how dangerous Horace Crowthorne is?”
“So you say. But how do I know you’re not a murderer? You might have killed poor Lord Churton. You seemed to know of his death before anyone else.”
“You shall have to take my word that I didn’t kill him. Shall we alight?”
His gray eyes bored into hers. He was certainly very determined. It was perhaps best to agree to his demands and take him by surprise at the earliest opportunity.
“Very well.” She scooted to the edge of the seat.
He hesitated and eyed her. “I become suspicious when you give in so easily.”
“I feel it best to humor you,” she said, her tone brisk.
“Then please continue to do so.” He jumped down from the carriage, turned, and held up his arms.
That’s what you think!She leaned into his warm hands, and he lifted her from the coach. Once on the ground, she pulled away from him and fussed with her cloak, allowing time for her heart to stop its infernal fluttering. The moon chose that moment to slip behind a cloud. Beyond the dim gloom of the carriage lanterns, the night was as black as a coal chute. “Where on earth are we?”
“Some miles from Canterbury I’m afraid. You’ll have to ride with me.”
“You shall recompense me for this gown.” She looked around. “Where’s my horse?”
“It stands before you.”
“What? We ride together on the same horse?” The idea stripped her of breath. She backed away and shook her head. “No. Oh no.”
“We have only the one. The hackney coach must be returned to its owner.”
“Preposterous.” She put her hands on her hips. “I shall return to London in this coach, but first, I demand you explain.”
A chuckle erupted from the box.
“Take them away, Ben,” Montsimon ordered.
“Right you are.” The man snapped the whip, and the horses leapt forward.
“No, wait!” Althea cried, turning to run after the carriage. It was useless. She was ruining her evening slippers and could only watch as the swinging lamps faded into the dark. Her chance to return to London gone with it. She spun around and glared at Montsimon. “How dare you!” She aimed a slap at his face but could only see his shadowy outline as he darted back. She squealed with frustration as her hand met thin air. He was so annoyingly tall.
The horse whickered. “Temper, my lady.” His amused voice came out of the dark. “You are frightening our only mode of transport. I assure you I have an excellent reason to take you with me.”
She fought to control her temper. It wouldn’t do to lose the horse. “As I can’t think of a single reason, kindly enlighten me.”
“I decided it best not to leave you in London.”
“That’s a poor answer. Why not?”
“You are in danger. As I have already told you.” He made the whole affair sound reasonable. How did he manage to do that? It was entirely irrational. His diplomatic skills she supposed. Well he’d have to work harder than this to convince her. And she was cold, her evening slippers did little to protect her feet.
The moon sailed clear from the clouds again and revealed him in the act of throwing a leg over the saddle. He removed his foot from the stirrup and leaned down. “Will you join me?”
