“I’ll leave it to you to ask. They’ll be more forthcoming with someone from the area.” Montsimon leaned forward and grasped her hands. “I’m grateful you chose to tell me. This might be important.”
She was inordinately pleased but withdrew her hands. No sense in encouraging him.
“But at the same time, it is worrying,” Montsimon said. “If Hazelton saw you, they may suspect you’re onto them.”
“I don’t see how—”
“From now on, my lady, I shall have to be your shadow.”
“My shadow?” She eyed him suspiciously. “What do you mean by that?”
“Best for us to appear to have married,” he said bluntly.
“That’s impossible.” She pretended not to understand him. “How does one appear to be married?”
“It’s self-explanatory. I’m proposing we behave as a couple.”
“To deceive who exactly? My poor servants?” She narrowed her eyes. Was this another of his tricks? What lengths would a rake go to?
“Don’t look at me like that, Althea. It is only for a short time. And I won’t insist on my conjugal rights.”
Ignoring the overheated atmosphere, she shot him a withering glance. “You most certainly won’t! You have no such rights.”
“Very well. If you prefer to keep this on a business footing, so be it. But we will have to put up a show.”
She didn’t like that confident glint in his eye. Men could be so casual about affairs where women could not. “What about my servants!”
“We shall tell them we married in London.”
“No, Montsimon. I won’t lie to them.”
“Think it through, Althea.” He removed his hat and put up a hand to smooth his dark brown locks. “Surely you trust me after what we’ve been through together?”
He had nice hair. She tugged at her gloves. “I am grateful for your help, but it would be naïve of me to trust you to that extent, Montsimon. And I am not naïve,” she said defensively.
“I don’t seek your gratitude, Althea. I just want to keep you safe.”
He sounded sincere. She met his gaze as her aunt’s warning came back to her. The appeal in his clear gray eyes was almost irresistible. But she would resist. She must guard her battered and bruised heart from further hurt.
*
As luck wouldhave it, the rain eased, and a pale winter sun shimmered through the branches of the evergreens adding little warmth. The carriage continued toward Slough, jouncing through ruts, and sending up a spray from water-filled potholes. Althea had praised Flynn’s coachman. He had to agree, Ben skillfully handled his thoroughbreds. Flynn’s finances were often stretched, because his lifestyle demanded a better income than he had at present, and he refused to economize on well-bred cattle and well-sprung vehicles.
Althea had grown quiet. She had not yet agreed with his idea. Nor had he attempted to persuade her. He left her to consider it, trusting that her commonsense would bring her round. He sat back, content to look at her, admiring how her pale-blonde hair curled about her neat ears beneath her fur hat and her dimpled chin, which she thrust out at him rather too often.
“Very well, I agree,” she said, breaking into his thoughts.
“To what?” She caught him off guard; his thoughts had moved on to how appealing she’d looked rumpled and sleepy from sharing his bed, while embracing the possibility of a more successful outcome next time.
“To pretending we are married, or have you dismissed the idea?”
“Of course not” he said hastily. “I allowed you to take your time. You’re obviously a woman who is very careful with making up her mind.” He shrugged and tried not to appear too pleased. “I knew you would come to see the sense of it.”
She raised her eyebrows, a smile lurking in her eyes. “Oh, you did, did you?”
“How else can I remain close enough to protect you?”
Her eyes widened. “I-I’m grateful that you wish to defend me, Montsimon,” she said in a broken whisper. “More than I can say.”
