She shrugged, wishing she felt more confident, while his words robbed her of her earlier zeal. “It’s a risk I intend to take,” she said firmly. “If you’ll please step aside, I shall arrange with a stablehand to return the horse to Sedgwick Hall.”
“You’d trust them with this fine thoroughbred? I’ll ensure it is safely delivered. If you will wait here.”
Before Prue could protest, he seized the bridle and led the horse inside. Through the doorway, she saw him pay the man. If only she’d insisted on paying herself! Now she was beholden to him. She deliberated about how to make her escape from him but soon realizedsuch an attempt would be foolish. He knew of her direction, and his long strides would reach her well before she gained the safety of the coaching inn, especially hobbling along with a sore blister on her heel. Prue had never liked these boots, and they had been made especially by George Hoby! Arguing with Lord Hereford would only cause a scene. And she couldn’t afford to draw attention to herself.
He emerged within minutes and took firm hold of her elbow with his big hand. “Allow me to assist you back into the curricle,” he said crisply, brooking no argument.
“No…” Prue pulled away. After the long night without a shred of sleep, with parts of her aching that she couldn’t mention, she was tempted to do as he’d commanded. But what did he plan to do with her? Return her to her home? Or would he take her somewhere where they could be alone? It would be foolish to trust him. A flush warmed her cheeks. His questions had brought her escape plan into stark reality and if she couldn’t get a seat on the stagecoach, it was doomed to fail. But it was her plan and as she had no other option, she must try. Prue was heartily sick of being treated as if she didn’t have a brain in her head. “Thank you, my lord, but I assure you there’s no need to concern yourself with me.”
A tick in his strong jaw revealed his displeasure and drew her attention to his firm-lipped mouth. She stiffened as the memory of his kiss sent warmth rushing up her neck.
“Have some sense, Lady Prudence. You can’t be seen wandering about the village on your own, and in those clothes!”
“I intend to wait in the inn parlor for the stagecoach.”
“Alone? It is barely dawn.”
“The stagecoach arrives early for the passengers to have breakfast. It should be here within the hour.” Prue’s limbs felt leaden, and she tried not to flinch at the prospect of remaining awake and on her guard among strangers. Her eyelids grew heavy, her eyes burning. She rubbed one with a finger and looked away, not wishing for him to seethe doubt on her face she struggled to conceal.
“And when the coach deposits you at the Belle Savage Inn in Ludgate Hill, how do you intend to get from there to Richmond?”
“By hackney, of course. I have the money.”
“Jarveys are not keen to travel that far from the city, and few would take you up, dressed as you are.”
She held her valise in front of her like a shield. “I have a gown with me should I feel the need to change, and shall manage quite nicely, thank you.”
He shook his head. “It is far too reckless a scheme and in no way can it succeed.” He waited, his lips pressed together while she fiddled with the annoying capes of her father’s greatcoat swamping her shoulders. Worse, the sash holding up her breeches had loosened, and she feared they would drop to her ankles. She fought not to give in to the temptation to hoist them up.
“It’s an inconvenience to me, but I’m prepared to return you to Sedgwick Hall,” he said finally. “Hopefully, before your absence is noticed.”
No!She refused to return to Roland. She visualized his smug expression in her mind’s eye. How to escape this large, distracting man? Aware vital minutes were ticking by, she glanced nervously down the street, fearing her cousin would soon appear. “I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you. In any event, my absence could have already been discovered. Surely, you would dislike my cousin finding us alone together? He will think the worst, and who knows where that might lead? You might be forced to marry me,” Prue added, pleased, perhaps to have thought of something to rattle him, as he had done her.
It didn’t. He merely laughed, but without any real humor.
Almost as soon as the words had left her lips, her prediction about Roland proved right. The thunder of horses’ hooves and the jingle of traces heralded her father’s black coach with the earl’s crest on the door panel, advancing smartly down the street with lanterns blazing. “Roland’s here.” She gasped, looking around wildly for somewhere to hide. Who had given her away? It would not have been loyal little Allie. Had Roland opened her bedchamber door to check on her during the night? She shuddered.
Lord Hereford had turned to observe the approaching vehicle. He grabbed her arm and drew her into the shadows, pressing her against the stable wall and towered over her, making her aware of his lithe, steely strength. “If you tell me what has occurred to send you fleeing from your home in this fashion, I might consider helping you.”
“You would?” she asked hopefully. All her stubborn determination to make her own way now seemed too hasty. Prue eagerly grasped at his suggestion but knew she would have to be quick. If Lord Hereford discussed her with Roland, her cousin would say she was grief-stricken and muddled in her thinking. He would make it sound so convincing! Men were always inclined to believe each other before they did a woman. She’d find herself back at home and kept under strict guard.
Watching from the shadows while hiding behind Lord Hereford’s broad frame, she watched the coach sweep past, thankfully without seeing her. It pulled into the forecourt of the coaching inn a half mile farther along the road. “You wouldn’t understand,” she said at last.
“As it happens, I am also on my way to London,” Lord Hereford said behind her. “If I better understood your situation…?”
He let the implication hang in the air. Prue spun around to look at him, aware of the time wasted while attempting to gauge if he really meant to take her up. Was this a ruse? There was no question that he was a rake. Why else would he have attended that drunken revelry? A gentleman didn’t kiss a woman like that, even if he had mistaken her for one of the women there…not unless he believed she wanted him to. Had she? For just one tiny moment? The thought made her flush and bite her lip. Was she unsure of herself with this devastatingly attractive man? Would it be safer in his company than on the stagecoach? Assuming a seat on it would be available. What if it wasn’t? Where would she go? She thought of the expression:out of the frying pan and into the fireand dithered, wondering how much to tell him. Would taking a chance on him be disastrous? But with no other option available to her, for Roland would soon leave the inn and come here, Prue searched the viscount’s eyes, hoping to find a sign that he felt some sympathy for her predicament. But he merely watched her unflinchingly, giving little away. She ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Mr. Stanton intends to force me to marry him.”
His doubting gaze locked with hers. “Can he do so?”
“There are no family members to turn to except a distant cousin in Wales I’ve never met and my great-grandmama.”
“An elderly lady? It doesn’t sound hopeful, does it?”
Prue hated the skepticism in his voice. She edged around the corner to stare down the street again. The black coach still remained with the groom walking the horses. The stagecoach would soon arrive, and if she wasn’t on the waybill, they would leave her behind. It would be impossible to arrange it without Roland seeing her. Any moment now, he would return to the stables to ask about her horse and find her here.
“I seem to remember the Stanton name mentioned,” Lord Hereford said. “The family lived not far from us and attended our church. They moved away while I was still in the nursery.”
Prue turned to face him. “That would have been after my aunt passed away. My uncle then remarried.” She drew in a breath. “Oh, please, my lord. Won’t you help me?”
