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Fifteen
The main turnpike near Stoke-on-Trent
TWELVE HOURS AND FIVE TEAM CHANGES LATER
Cassius stretched his legs until his feet touched the opposite seat, then flexed his thighs. Every muscle in his body screamed for him to leap from the lumbering conveyance and stretch. God, how he despised traveling by coach, even if the company was quite exceptional.
Across from him, half turned into the seat and holding Teddy on her lap, Beatrice slept the fitful sleep of the tormented and the ill. She moved often, speaking or moaning or coughing.
Hell’s clanging bells.
It hadn’t occurred to him she might have contracted the same ailment that had sent her companion to bed.
A swift glance at his watch revealed the time was nearly half-past twelve.
The August sun shone high in the clear sky, unhindered by clouds.
Firming his mouth, he tried not to worry about why Layton hadn’t caught up to the coach yet. An experienced soldier for over two decades, his eldest half-brother knew how to take care of himself.
Cassius arched his back and flexed his arms.
This bloody coach was far too cramped.
He asked Layton to bring an extra horse for him to ride.
Confinement in a small conveyance with Beatrice proved far too provocative and tempting. His mind kept wandering to forbidden areas, and more than once, his traitorous body had betrayed him with his growing desire for her.
He despised that weakness of his flesh.
No doubt, Beatrice would appreciate having the coach to herself, and he certainly would welcome a break from the conflicting emotions assailing him regarding her.
Lucius and Cousin Torrian had dug up more information about the Earl of Highbury and, given the implications of the evidence he’d uncovered, Father had sent Layton to Brighton at once to dispatch the recent findings to Cassius. That was why Layton was at The Frolicking Fox Inn, a stroke of luck, to be sure.
Not only was the Earl of Highbury on the brink of bankruptcy, but he’d also reached out to known nefarious individuals of London’s underworld. That disturbing information had come via Fletcher, whose contacts were vast and diverse.
What purpose Highbury had in contacting known criminals, no one knew just yet.
Cassius hadn’t pieced the puzzle together, but a picture had begun to form, and it didn’t bode well for Beatrice.
She would have to be told about this new revelation, of course.
But not now.
Not until she was safe and sequestered at Hefferwickshire House and was well away from Highbury’s clutches. In truth, Cassius didn’t think she should be told about her uncle’s perfidy until she’d claimed her fortune. She would feel more in control then. Less vulnerable to her uncle’s schemes and wiles.
From beneath hooded eyelids, he allowed himself the pleasure of watching her sleep. Her eyes moving behind her ivory eyelids, she breathed through her parted peach-tinted lips, snoring softly every so often.
Probably because of her cold, but her snoring was rather endearing.
What did she dream of?
A safe and secure future?
She claimed she wasn’t interested in marriage, but was that due to past unpleasant experiences, her mother’s unfortunate fate, or truly the desire of her heart?
Cassius didn’t know her well, but from what he’d learned during their brief acquaintance and given her capacity for love and compassion toward her pets, he doubted she’d find contentment as a childless old tabby despite her protestations otherwise.
Would he be happy without children?
