“Gather your things,” he said grimly. “We’re going to walk.”
“Walk?” she repeated, incredulous. “But you said the nearest town was three miles away!”
Something indecipherable flickered in the depths of his cold gray gaze. “By all means, stay here with the driver and the horses. Another carriage should be round before nightfall to collect you.”
He started to close the door. Would have closed it, if Evie hadn’t thrust her foot out.
“I am not going to sit here for hours in hopes that helpmightarrive before it gets dark.” She extended her arm, wrist gracefully bent and fingers pointed. “If you’d be so kind as to assist me, I’ll–ahhh!”
With all the care of a butcher tossing a slab of beef onto his shoulder, Weston grabbed her hand and pulled. Caught unprepared and off balance, she shrieked as she fell straight towards the watery muck, her arms flapping wildly in the air.
At the last possible second, the earl grasped her by the waist and set her on her feet, his thumbs digging into the jut of her hipbones as he scowled down at her.
“You’re impossible,” he growled, as if it were somehowherfault she’d nearly ended up with a mouthful of mud!
“Me?” Glaring up at him beneath the brim of her bonnet, a narrow concoction of silk and ribbon that sat low over her brow and was held in place by a bow that ran beneath her chignon, she struggled to rein in her temper.
Unlike Joanna, who always spoke her mind, Evie had learned at an early age that it was often advantageous to keep her opinion to herself. Particularly if that opinion reflected negatively on the only person in a three-mile radius who knew where they were going.
Up ahead, the main thoroughfare branched into three separate roads, and she had a feeling that if she picked the wrong one that she could be committing herself to wandering the countryside for the next several hours.
“Is there something you’d like to say, Miss Thorncroft?” Weston asked, blatantly searching for a reason–anyreason–to leave her behind.
Unfortunately for the earl, she had no intention of giving him any excuse to leave her sitting in the carriage. Until they reached their final destination, she would strive to be on her very best behavior. However, if the opportunity presented itself to shove her traveling companion into a watery ditch and giggle mercilessly as he climbed out of it…well, shewasonly human.
And an occasionally vindictive one, at that.
Despite her delicate build, love of fashion, and general abhorrence of anything icky (including, but not limited to, mud), Evie’s sugary smile disguised a woman who was ruthless in her pursuit of what she wanted. She may have been small and weak in stature, but her determination was as strong as iron, and she wasn’t going to stop until she had the three things she desired most: a wealthy husband, her mother’s ring, and the respect of her peers.
She rather thought it was to her credit that she’d found a way to get all three at once…and become a countess in the process. Although if she’d had the choice, she would have vastly preferred one of her malleable Somerville admirers to the ill-tempered Earl of Hawkridge.
They’d not shared each other’s company for any considerable length of time, but she intuitively sensed that he was not a simple-minded dandy whose eyes would cross and tongue would wag at the sight of a discreetly flashed ankle. Courting him–and convincing him to propose–was going to be a great challenge. Perhaps the greatest of her lifetime, excluding the gloomy months following her father’s death.
But Evie was not daunted by the uphill battle that awaited her.
Instead, she found herself invigorated by it.
Not to say that she wouldn’tpreferWeston drop to his knees and declare his undying love. It would certainly make her ascension to British nobility an easier ride than the bumpy, axle-breaking journey she currently found herself on. But she’d never shied away from a little adversity before, and she wasn’t about to start now. Thorncroft women were made of stern stock, and they’d overcome far more difficult obstacles than arrogant, scowling earls.
Speaking of which…
“Why, I was just going to compliment you on your amazingly quick reflexes, my lord.” Batting her lashes, she gave a simpering smile that had been practiced and perfected in the cracked mirror hanging on her bedroom wall. “You are surely a gallant knight sent from above, and I could not have asked for a better champion to keep me safe on the arduous trek that awaits us.”
Her gallant knight loomed above her, suspicion clouding his gaze and a muscle pulsing in his jaw. “I do not know what game you are playing, Miss Thorncroft, but I can assure you that I want no part of it.”
“I’ll be the first to admit I enjoy a good round of solitaire now and again,” she said. “But as I haven’t any cards with me at the moment, I am afraid I don’t know to what game you are referring, Lord Hawkridge.”
Delivering a flat, humorless laugh, Weston released his grip on her and stepped away.
“If you don’t keep up,” he said curtly, “you can stay behind.”
And with that uplifting note of encouragement, he headed off down the road, leading Evie to impulsively stick her tongue out at his back before she picked up her skirts and hurried after him.
Weston walked forthe better part of a mile before he allowed himself to steal a sideways glance at Evie. To his surprise–and reluctant admiration–she’d managed to keep pace with his longer stride, but she looked far from happy about it.
Suppressing an unexpected grin at her disheveled appearance, he held up his arm and motioned for her to follow him into the shade of an oak whose thick branches provided a welcome relief from the unrelenting sun.
“We can stop here for a minute to catch our breath,” he said brusquely. “Then we’ll continue on.”
