Gabriel, clad also in only a sheet, rushed behind her and rested two hands on his wife’s shoulders.
“When did the letter arrive?” Ryan asked, reaching for the paper in Killian’s hand.
“Just now, actually,” Killian said. “We were seeing off the Stanhopes when a rider clattered up. It’s expensive to dispatch a runner in the night, but your aunt was right to do it. Based on what you’ve said of Maurice—especially as it pertains to your youngest sister—there is no time to spare.”
“No,” Ryan agreed. “No, there’s not. I must go. I must gonow. Diana wrote this letter on Friday. That was six days ago. This means Maurice has been prowling around Winscombe for nearly a fortnight. Diana will protect Charlotte—but who will protect Diana? She is impatient and outspoken and prone to arguments. If he launched his dogs at me, what willher insubordination invite? I must leave here. I must go to them right away.” She scanned the stables like a woman who intended to ride away in a bedsheet.
Finally, Gabriel spoke. “You cannot travel in the middle of the night, Ryan. Remember Channing Meade? You’ll make the same progress if you pack tonight, sleep for a few hours, and leave at sunrise. You’ll make London by Saturday and Portsmouth by the next day.”
“I cannot spare the detour to London. My aunt will understand. I’ll go to Portsmouth directly. This will save time, correct?” She looked around frantically, searching each person’s face.
“A little,” consented Killian. He dared not look at Gabriel. His brother-in-law must step up; hemustdo the correct thing. But the decision had to come from Gabriel. Neither Elise nor Killian could coerce him. If nothing else, Gabriel could ride with her as far as Portsmouth—they’d make better time on horseback. Killian was happy to put them in his carriage, but if she meant to sprint to the coast, she should leave her maid and her trunk and ride on fast horses.
“What of Mr. Soames?” Ryan asked suddenly, looking up from the letter. “We’ve not yet met with him.”
Killian shook his head. “He’s expected any day, but he’s not here now. Obviously.”
“Right,” she said. “Well, I have our marriage license. It’ll be Maurice’s word against mine. If nothing else, my claim of being a married woman will slow things down. Perhaps this will give Mr. Soames time to travel to us.”
“I’ll go.”
The words came from Gabriel.
Thank God.Killian steeled his face to have no reaction, but Elise was not so controlled. She slapped a hand over her mouth and gave a small, ecstatic bounce.
Lady Ryan swung about, gaping at her husband.
“I’ll go,” Gabriel repeated; his tone broached no argument. “You cannot go alone. I can help you. I am not without honor, Ryan; please don’t insult me with the suggestion that I would send you to face him alone.”
“But—” began Ryan.
“Please,” Gabriel said, his voice as hard as rock.
“Fine,” Ryan said. “What of your horses and your camp?”
“We’ll leave at first light, just as Killian said,” Gabriel told her. “If his driver will convey us to Pewsey, we’ll hire horses there and change mounts every few hours. It’s the fastest way.”
“Thank you,” she breathed.
“Elise, can I impose on you to assist her with her dress and see her safely and discreetly inside?” Gabriel asked. “I must ride to camp to set things to rights and fetch a few items.”
“What can I do?” asked Killian.
Gabriel shook his head. “This is my responsibility.”
“It’s not,” insisted Ryan firmly.
“Go,” Gabriel ordered. “We ride at dawn.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
It took them two days and two nights to reach Portsmouth. The first night was spent in an inn, but the second night, they rode straight through—not Gabriel’s preference, but Ryan knew there was only one ship sailing to Guernsey every day, and it left at ten o’clock in the morning. If they spent a second night in an inn, they would miss the sailing and be stranded on the mainland for a third day.
Gabriel did not argue with her. He threw himself into the logistics—minding the horses, discovering where they could change them out for fresh mounts, studying the map. This left her to train her eyes on the horizon, say very little, andride.
She was an excellent horsewoman; he’d noticed that she was comfortable on a horse when he’d escorted her out of Savernake Forest, but he’d not fully appreciated her natural ability until they’d left Mayapple the first day. Killian and Elise, along with her weeping maid, Agnes, had gathered in the drive at sunup to wish them well and worry over provisions. Ryan had apologized for her rudeness, spurred her mare forward, and left them. Gabriel had shaken Killian’s hand—he’d shaken Elise’s, too; they’d hadn’tyet worked up to an embrace—promised he’d write, and galloped after Ryan. He’d been galloping after her for two days since.
They’d shared the room at the coaching inn on the first night. Ryan had proclaimed herself too stricken by anxiety to sleep, but then she’d burrowed into his side and exhaustion had claimed her. He was glad. Her mindset was wrong for lovemaking—his, too, for that matter, considering the greatreckoninginto which he was flinging himself—and although he was nevernotaroused whenever she was near him, she needed sleep.
