Her grip didn’t loosen so she must not be convinced.
“How long before we stop again?”
He counted the hours on his fingers. “With fresh horses, we can go another four hours. It will be morning before we stop again.”
“Morning? Did you want to make more progress because you think we are in danger of being caught or because the last coaching inn wouldn’t rent you rooms?”
He nodded, not that she could see in the low light. “Yes, Miss Croome. I had trouble at the last inn. The keeper and I exchanged some choice words, but no rooms for us.”
She didn’t respond.
He heard nothing but the knocking of hooves.
“You mean for me, Bex. No room for me.”
Now it was Bex’s turn for silence, for what could he say to make it better? He’d been denied services, even humanity, because of his testimony against his uncle. Things hadn’t gotten better until he’d left Liverpool and changed his name. By wedding Arthur, Miss Croome’s name would change, but not her lovely face.
“Travel outside of London is different.” Her voice was low and steady. “Very different, Bex.”
“Nothing ever goes smoothly. I think you’ve led a bit of a sheltered life.”
“You make that sound bad, Bex. It just means someone thought enough of me to protect me.”
Their acquaintance, talking and sharing, was less than a day, but he already knew he wanted to banish her fears. He took her hand in his, felt the strong coursing of her blood within her pulse. “Well, now you have me to protect you. I’ll get you safely to Scotland.”
“It’s possible we could be caught. Papa has a barouche with two teams. They are fast.”
“Two pairs, aye. Miss Croome, not staying at a coaching inn is actually helping us. We’ll make it.”
With her free hand, she drummed her nails on the seat, then offered a laugh. “They’ll be slowed checking every inn. They won’t know we were denied. Won’t catch us sleeping…in a bed? Maybe we won’t be caught. Maybe?”
Her voice diminished, and it brought new humor to his tired lungs. “For a woman set on eloping at five past midnight, you seem very unsure of the success of our plans.” He yawned. “Would it be so wrong to be found in bed, our separate beds, sleeping?”
“Yes. We are alone, unchaperoned. It will be hard for anyone to believe that an actor was respectful, or a prodigal daughter wasn’t promiscuous. Oh, maybe we should practice what we say when we are caught. We’ll have to convince them to not shoot you and to let us still marry.”
“Shoot? What?”
“Yes, Bex, we’ll need to have a convincing speech.”
She avoided his question, but since there were many questions he wouldn’t talk about—such as his horrid connections—he didn’t press, but he wondered if she could withstand the scrutiny of their marriage by reporters like Phineas?
Miss Croome sighed. “Papa has a temper. What if he shoots you, whether you’re sleeping in a bed or not? No speech will fix that.”
“Being shot is sort of hard to fix.” Arthur didn’t like the fear he heard in her voice. His inability to convince the innkeeper of her humanity had shaken her faith. He slowed the horses, looking for a safe place to pull over. “We can’t go on like this.”
“What are you doing, Bex? We have to keep going.”
“No, we don’t. I can’t have a wife who is nervous of her shadow, one who’s not sure that I can protect her. Today, we had problems because of an ignorant innkeeper; tomorrow a milliner might abstain from making your prim bonnets. If you really think your father will shoot me because I won’t be able to convince him otherwise, then I won’t think any less of you if you decide we should turn back. It will be full daylight when I drop you at Nineteen Fournier.”
She folded her arms. The drumming of her slipper grew louder. “I wouldn’t have you drop me there and shame my Mama, but at the Fitzwilliam-Cecil’s. That’s cowardly, but it would spare Mama some humiliation. She’s delicate, and my father would force my marriage to someone probably even worse than the Jordans. Bex, I don’t want to quit. We can’t stop now.”
“We didn’t even try to get your parents’ approval, Miss Croome. I’d hate to be missing sleep right now when your parents could have been reasoned with.”
“Papa wouldn’t accept you unless you had ships or something to add to his wealth.
“Ships?” It was good that it was still dark. Maybe in the low lantern light, she’d miss Arthur choking on her words. He tugged off his remaining glove and swiped at his neck. “I don’t have ships.”
“And Mama wouldn’t accept you at all because—”
