Page 14 of Maid for the Marquess

For what purpose?

I still didn’t know.

I was afraid to ask. All I had to rely upon was Geraldine’s assurance that the marquess had told her he had no intention of ruining me. It had been at her urging that I packed what few belongings I possessed in a bandbox and climbed into Lord Wheaton’s carriage at dawn.

“You’re trembling.”

Geraldine’s voice pierced my thoughts. At least I had her for accompaniment. I wouldn’t be entirely alone. But my heart ached as I thought of Lydia, the sister of my heart, and our tearful parting earlier that morning. I would miss her dreadfully, as I knew she would miss me.

I twisted my gloved hands in my lap and met Geraldine’s kind gaze. “The day has been a trying one thus far. I’m a bit overset.”

Overset was a woefully inadequate means of describing the maelstrom within me, but my emotions were in such a tumult that I didn’t think I could properly make sense of them myself, let alone attempt to explain them to someone else.

“I expect you shall be far safer in the marquess’s care than in the baron’s,” Geraldine said, no doubt seeking to reassure me.

I wanted to believe her. But hope was a dying ember within me, scarcely capable of making flame. It had been for years now.

“Have you learned anything else of Lord Wheaton?” I asked her, wondering yet again about the man I had been given to.

He had at least provided us with the comfort of his carriage for the journey, and a more handsome conveyance I had never beheld. The squabs were sumptuous and comfortable, covered in fine Morocco leather a deep shade of claret with silk trim. The matching linings were of superfine cloth. It was clearly new, a crest proudly emblazoned upon the door, and a far cry from the shabby old carriage the baron kept for his trips to London.

Wealth, however, did not suggest kindness.

“Little more than belowstairs gossip,” Geraldine told me, “but I’ve seen enough with my own two eyes to know that he’s nothing like the baron.”

Before I could respond, a commotion rose from beyond the carriage, masculine shouts followed by the whinnying of a horse. The conveyance drew to an abrupt halt.

Concern laced through me. For a breath, I suspected the baron had set off after us, changing his mind. I would be removed from the carriage and returned to Cliffwood. I wasn’t sure which I feared more, going back to my life of servitude or proceeding to whatever awaited me at Lord Wheaton’s mercy.

But suddenly, the door to the carriage burst open to reveal the marquess’s steward, his expression grave.

“Is something amiss?” Geraldine asked, reacting before I could.

“I’m afraid so,” the steward said. “It’s Lord Wheaton.”

ALEXANDER

I cursed as I tried to stand, my foot almost collapsing under my weight. But my concern was for Knight. I had not been paying as close attention as I should, and he had stumbled on a large unseen divot in the roadside. He lurched, throwing me from the saddle, and I landed with my foot bent at an odd angle. I ascertained it wasn’t broken, but ye gods, it ached.

Edward was at my side immediately, and I waved him off. “Check Knight.”

He knelt beside my horse, examining his leg with a trained eye. He rose with a nod. “Lamed, but not broken.” He shook his head. “Much like you, my lord.”

The carriage had stopped, my servants waiting my direction.

“You need to ride in the carriage. It will be full, but there is not another option. You cannot ride Knight, nor can he carry you.” He flashed a smile, wanting to jest with me. “Unless of course, I walk and you ride.”

“Do not tempt me,” I grunted, not pleased with the idea of being trapped with the servant and the terrified girl. Every time she looked at me, I felt her trepidation and dread. I had not had the time to speak with her, soothe her worry, assure her that she would be safe.

Edward strode forward, opening the carriage door and leaning in to say something. Movement caught my eye, and I was shocked to see a strange girl rise from between the trunks and bags on the carriage roof. Her anxious gaze met my surprised one, and I shouted out.

“Edward! Above you!”

He stepped back from the carriage as the startled girl lurched, her arms acting like windmills as she tried to steady herself and failed. She toppled from the roof, and it was only by some sort of miracle that Edward caught her, holding her in his arms.

For a moment, the air was silent as he stared down at her. Then he set her on her feet.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “What are you on about? Did Barnett send you?”