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He frowned. “I know.”

“It would make everything more difficult. I’d be ruined.”

Something about the way she said it, infusing the word “ruined” with such sadness, sent all of the disparate thoughts he’d had over the last three days clicking into place. If she was ruined, he’d be forced to make a choice. Do the gentlemanly thing and marry her or play the scoundrel and leave her on her own.

Jane. A wife. Married. To him.

It had been so long since he’d thought of anything but the estate’s future and his sisters’ happiness. He’d always assumed that once they were settled, he’d find a good woman, someone he could see himself sitting by the fire and reading with long into the winter nights at Madeley. She’d have to be a tolerant woman with a taste for risk, for he wasn’t certain he’d be able to offer her anything close to the life that a baroness ought to enjoy—at least not until he was certain that this horse-breeding scheme of his would take root.

He shook his head. He was so far away from that day that he couldn’t even begin to think about it, no matter how tempting it was with this woman by his side. His responsibility was to ensure that his sisters were happily settled. He wouldn’t bring another woman into the mess that was his family’s situation until he was certain he wouldn’t be condemning her to a life of poverty, no matter how genteel it may be.

All he could offer Jane was a promise. “I won’t let that happen to you.”

It must’ve been enough, because she said in a low voice he could barely hear over the horses’ progress, “I trust you. I don’t know why, but I do.”

Chapter Seven

They rode well into the evening, giving Jane time to sort out the jumble of thoughts fighting for position in her mind.

She hadn’t been exaggerating when she finally spoke the words that had been plaguing her since they’d started this mad chase. She would be ruined if anyone found out about this trip, and the longer she and Nicholas rode together, the more likely that seemed. In the innyard when she’d first realized that Lady Margaret was gone, she’d somehow imagined that she’d be able to retrieve her charge in just a few hours and force her back on the road to Holmesfield Hall. It had been delusional, she knew that, but all she had was hope.

Now, however, with several days of riding behind them and nothing but a scrap of information here and there, Jane’s confidence was beginning to falter. Lord and Lady Harlewood showing up at the inn in Sutton-on-the-Hill only served as a reminder of how dangerous her task was.

And then there was the not so little matter of Nicholas. She’d seen the way his hands flexed around the reins when she spoke of what would happen if they were caught together. She hadn’t expected him to leap off his horse and drop to one knee in a proposal—far from it—but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a little sadness when all he did was promise to protect her as best he could.

Of course he couldn’t marry her. She knew that. She was a governess. In the rankings of the down-on-their-luck gentry, she was above a servant but below even the poorest of poor relations who’d managed to stave off the need to work. Her position, in one word, was pitiable.

She slid her eyes over to examine him as he rode a few feet from her, proud and tall in the saddle no matter the number of joint-rattling hours they spent on the road. It wasn’t just the seemingly vast chasm between their social positions that burst the bubble of hope in her chest. Nicholas was an honorable man, yet honor was a tricky thing. It best served men who had one cause—whose allegiances wouldn’t threaten to tear them in two. Jane knew without having to ask that his loyalty was to his sisters, and he’d never do anything to jeopardize their future.

Effie and Helen had to marry, and they’d have but one chance. He’d made that clear. With little dowry to offer, Nicholas would have to do everything he could to ensure that the family reputation stayed pristine while the girls made the rounds in London. Even the whiff of a rumor that their brother was consorting with a governess would make the gossips titter. But marrying one? That was unthinkable. If word got out that they’d ridden together unchaperoned—that they’d slept in the same room—he’d be forced to propose to her, and the full force of the ton’s scorn would crash down on them all. She’d bear the brunt of any mudslinging, but his sisters wouldn’t escape without being smattered.

“We should look for somewhere to stay for the night,” said Nicholas, breaking into her turmoil.

Jane looked around and realized that while she’d been lost in her thoughts, darkness had fallen over the rich green hills and the air had taken on a chill that threatened rain. Again.

Still, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with the idea of walking into an inn only to discover Lord and Lady Harlewood in the corridor.

“We could press on a little longer,” she suggested, pulling her cloak tighter.

He shot her a look. “You’re half frozen, and I’m starving. We should find somewhere to sleep.”

“But—”

“I wasn’t thinking of an inn.”

Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“If memory serves, there isn’t much from here to Matlock. I think tonight we’ll have to rely on the generosity of farmers.”

Finding a farmhouse, it turned out, wasn’t a problem. It was finding a farmer willing to take them in. For half an hour they rode, with Nicholas stopping to knock on doors and ask for room and board for the night. Most of the farmers peered out at them, shook their heads, and closed their doors solidly in their faces. Twice it was the lady of the house who shut them out.

“Whatever happened to hospitality?” Nicholas muttered as they rode up to yet another farmhouse. This one was small and squat, but here were trellises nailed on either side of the doorway and the skeletons of climbing roses that would burst into color and perfume in the spring.

“Are we English known for our hospitality?” she asked.

“Apparently not.”

“Odysseus fared better than us,” she said with a smile. “But at least there’s no Polyphemus waiting for us.”