“What if I weren’t Arthur Bex? Would you still feel secure?”
She puffed the loops of the tie, but only starch and an iron could save it. “Would you have the same melodious voice?” Hers was a purr.
“Yes. I suppose. You wouldn’t have accepted anyone else’s advertisement to escape your father’s suitor, just mine?”
Her slim index finger stilled, very close to the vein on his neck. His pulse ticked up. “Just you, Bex. If you must leap into a fire, why choose a match light over a hearth flame? Both will burn you, just one more so.”
“Am I the match or the hearth, Miss Croome?”
“Time will tell. You should give my name a practice. Ester Croome Bex. Ester Bex. Ester.”
Did she know how alluring she was? Or how well her curves fit against him? “You must truly like me, Ester Croome.”
“Yes. But say my name once more, with feeling, as if you were on stage.”
Arthur moved one hand from the glorious perch at her waist to stroke her neck. Round the curve and along a ribbon, he traced the lace at her throat that led to an ample bosom. “Is there a reward for saying your name in direct address, Miss Croome?”
Concentrating on her plump lower lip, he dipped his head closer. “A reward should be in order—”
Harsh galloping sounded from behind. A large carriage sprinted past them on the road where they were pulled over to the side.
Miss Croome ducked her face, hiding against his abdomen. She shivered against him. The lass truly feared being caught, and it reminded him how vulnerable they were.
“Bex, we should get back on the road. I don’t want to be found here in the middle of nowhere with no chaperone.”
“You’re eloping, Ester Croome. No chaperone required.”
She held on to him tighter; her words came out half muffled by his waistcoat. “If we fail and my father doesn’t kill or maim you, you will still be Arthur Bex. I’ll be a fallen woman. The limited choices and freedoms I have now as Josiah Croome’s daughter will be no more. No coaching inn will ever allow me to rent, not the infamous Ester. Not to mention that no respectable family will want anything to do with me. That shame will hurt Mama. She’ll forgive me, but the shame will cut her deep. We have to marry, being out here—all alone with you.”
“Then we can’t fail at making you my bride.”
“We can’t, and I know you can and will protect me. I don’t want us to fail.”
Her words were sweet, sweeter than the kiss he’d wanted to take. “We won’t.” He put his hands around her waist again and carried her back to the phaeton. He hoisted her up onto the platform. “We won’t fail, future Mrs. Bex.”
When he climbed in on the other side, she had the reins in her hand. “Bex, I’ve driven my friend’s gig. It’s small, with only two wheels, but I could drive this, and you could sleep. We could get more distance.”
He hadn’t thought of her being useful like this. Taking his gloves from the seat, he offered them to her. “These are a little worn, but they will protect your hands. He tugged off one of her gloves, taking a moment to clasp her fingers—long, piano-playing-digits. “Let’s not ruin these silky things.”
“That is satin with Mechlin lace.” She took off the other and stuffed them both into her bag before pulling on his gloves. “Do I keep to this road?”
“Yes. Stay the course unless you are ready to quit. I hope you’re not ready for that.” He sank back into the seat.
“Bex, I’m staying the course.”
When she safely made the horse take to the road, he relaxed a little more.
Chin held high, arms taut, blasted shawl again wrapped about her, she had the phaeton moving smoothly, the horses’ gait steady and straight.
Surprised at her skill, he sank a little more into the seat. “Your friend taught you well.”
“Mrs. Fitzwilliam-Cecil believes horse skills are essential for women.”
“But not your parents?”
“Rest, Bex. I’ll keep us on the path.”
She hadn’t answered his question, but his eyelids refused to let him seek further counsel. He’d have to find out more about her parents later, and perhaps figure out a way to smooth things over. Miss Croome wasn’t like him. She needed her family. Since the age of twelve, after his uncle’s trial, he’d been forced to live by his own means. If Arthur could spare her the pain of giving up her relations, he would.
