“We’ll steal new horses.”
“We need rest.”
She frowned at him, but he looked back quite seriously. Cecilia had not imagined he could appear so cool-eyed and sober. A thrill sparked her blood—the effects of a sudden cold breeze, she decided, and wished she’d not left her coat with Pleasance.
Dear, mad Pleasance, who had predicted events correctly after all. What would she make of Northangerland Abbey’s bloodthirsty ghosts? How long before she was gibbering their bleak memories and wind-like moans?
“I cannot rest,” she said. “I must rush to their aid as fast as I’m able.”
“But you don’t want to be exhausted when you face Lady Armitage,” Ned argued. “And certainly not when you get to Northangerland Abbey. You wouldn’t take a blunt sword into battle, would you? It’s the same with your own body.”
“That is true,” she conceded. “But I’ll thank you not to speak of my—you know.”
He grinned at her sidelong. “Your body?”
“If you are going to be crude, please leave my presence. Go back tositting in the carriage. I’ll call you if there are any more inquiries about our possessions.”
“Very well. But do you know where you’re going?”
“East.”
“Actually, we’re headed south at the moment. We’re not far from Sidmouth. Make sure you follow this road, keep left, and you should come across a hotel called the Knowle where we can stay tonight.”
Cecilia was not unsuspicious. “How do you know this?”
“I did my fair share of smuggling, back before my house wasdeliberately pushedoff a cliff. I know Sidmouth.”
His innocent explanation only partly eased her mind. “This hotel is reputable?”
He laughed as he climbed down from the seat. “It will suffice.”
Cecilia envisioned a beer-stained bar, salty ruffians, and tiny rooms that smelled of mice, but conceded there was no choice. Already, she felt weariness drag at her. At least they would be parted for the night. Lying alone in bed, she would no longer be troubled by thoughts of Captain Lightbourne, his strong hands pulling back the sheets, his smile lowering itself to her bare skin—
She flicked the reins, absolutely in no way similar to how Ned had done, and hoped the hotel was not too far away.
Ned spent the next while inside the carriage. Cecilia heard some clattering about in there, some opening and closing of the door, which would have piqued her curiosity if she allowed it to. The outskirts of Sidmouth began appearing around her—farms, cottages, a public hall. As the daylight faded to shadows, Ned reappeared, clambering up on the seat beside her. He was dressed in a handsome black evening suit and even wore a hat, which he lifted off his head to salute her. Cecilia was troubled once again by that sudden breeze that made her tremble within and yet feel inexplicably hot.
“I found some luggage at the back,” he said, “and had a look throughit. There are ladies’ clothes if you would like to get changed into something more—less—er, different.”
“Why should I change?”
“The Knowle is slightly more than a roadside inn. If we are to go in through the front door, we want to present ourselves as well as possible.”
“Couldn’t we simply climb in a window?”
“Yes, but this will be more fun.”
They stopped the horses so Cecilia could climb down and enter the carriage. Then, as Ned drove on, she sat inside, contemplating the luggage piled on the seats around her. The previous occupants of the carriage must have been traveling to a house party, such was the array of silk, satin, lace, velvet. Even in the twilight, Cecilia discerned the fine workmanship of the clothing and regretted momentarily that she had not taken the time to rob the persons of the travelers before taking their carriage. No doubt she had missed out on some decent jewels. Sorting through the clothes, she selected a blue dress with long ruched sleeves and high neckline trimmed with fur—
And then tossed it aside, reaching instead for a gown that would cause her aunt to faint, were she present. “You’ll perish immediately of cold!” Miss Darlington would certainly declare.
Now, Cecilia was a dutiful niece, but even the most responsible, sensible lady would be unable to resist lustrous silvery silk faille embroidered with roses, its scooped bodice trimmed with pearl-encrusted lace, its sleeves small and puffed in a fashion Cecilia had never before encountered but immediately wanted to experience. She wrangled herself out of her day dress and into the silk, managing to close most of the buttons at the back. It did not quite fit, but Cecilia decided she had no need to adequately breathe that evening.
She unbraided her mussed hair, brushed it through with her fingers, then coiled it into a knot at the back of her head. She cleaned herface as well as she could with a petticoat she found in the luggage. There were no toiletries, so she had to remain content with her natural scent, which was not entirely pleasant after all the exercise of the day. But the gown itself smelled of old roses, and that would have to suffice.
After transferring her gun to her garter belt and checking that her knives were in place, she still felt only half-dressed. There were long satin evening gloves to match the gown, but they left a two-inch gap of exposed skin between glove and sleeve. Cecilia lost courage, and she was turning back to the voluminous blue dress when the carriage stopped.
Looking out the window, Cecilia saw a large, elegant building set on a trim lawn above the drive where they had stopped. Its dozens of windows gleamed merrily, and gas lamps along the driveway led a shimmering route up to the majestic front door.
