Page 16 of Memories Made At Midnight (Chronicles of the Westbrook Brides #9)

A couple of miles past the turnpike

C onfusion and hurt whisked across Beatrice’s face before she arranged her features into an unreadable mien. He’d witnessed her doing that very thing when her uncle chastised her harshly. Nevertheless, her eyes spoke volumes as she peeked at him from beneath those gold-tipped lashes.

He recognized that look of yearning.

Bloody, sodding hell.

Her regard was anything but impartial, and he almost cursed aloud.

Where the devil was Layton?

Much more of this, and Cassius would climb up on the driver’s seat and squeeze between the coachmen. Or—God help them both—haul Beatrice into his arms and kiss her senseless.

Which would create a whole other conundrum he didn’t want to deal with.

“The shade is pleasant, is it not?”

So she’d resorted to small talk to ease the tension between them, so thick a sword couldn’t cleave it in two.

The trees lining this section of the turnpike provided a pleasant reprieve from what looked to be an unseasonably hot day. Still, sweat beaded Cassius’s upper lip. “Aye.”

In the distance, hoofbeats sounded, carrying through the lowered coach windows on the peaceful summer day.

Cassius poked his head out of the opening.

Layton.

At last.

And thank God, for had it been the man hunting Beatrice, things would have swiftly become ugly.

Cassius knocked on the roof.

One of the coachmen slid the small window open at the coach’s front. “Aye, gov?”

“Please stop. My brother approaches.”

“Aye, gov.”

Cassius gestured toward the door.

“Would you care to stretch your legs, Beatrice? The dogs too?”

“Oh, yes.” A brilliant smile lit her face, and he was hard-pressed not to blink like a besotted fool. “I’m sure Nala and Teddy need to relieve themselves.”

After helping her alight, Cassius leaned against the coach’s side, surreptitiously observing her walk with her dogs.

She spoke to them in a soft undertone between brief bouts of coughing. Both promptly relieved themselves, and chagrin knocked at his ribs.

So intent had he been in outrunning the chap hired to find her, he’d spared little time for the dogs’ needs.

A couple of minutes later, riding atop a bay gelding and leading a sorrel mare and a gray gelding with a black mane, Layton drew up beside the conveyance.

Beatrice eyed the extra horses with a beleaguered expression.

Cassius crossed to his brother and took hold of the reins of the other two horses while Layton dismounted.

Layton grinned. His good eye, not covered by a black patch, twinkled with humor as the dogs greeted him with cautious canine sniffs but no barking.

“Hello, there.” He glanced at Cassius. “Who do we have here?”

“The boarhound is Nala, and the little chap is Teddy,” Cassius said.

Layton scratched Nala behind the ears, then crouched and did the same with Teddy.

“Ah, the mite is also blind in one eye.” He ruffled the fur on Teddy’s back before standing upright. “I think we shall be the greatest of comrades, my little friend.”

“You’re later than I expected.” Cassius speared a harried look down the road.

Nothing stirred up dust in the distance.

That was a good sign.

“Yes, well.” Layton sent Beatrice a guarded glance as he leaned toward Cassius and said in a low tone, “Things didn’t go quite as we planned.”

Cassius angled his head, careful to keep his escalating alarm from showing. “How so?”

Layton slapped the dust from his buff-colored trousers. “The chap’s three friends arrived after you departed. Evidently, they’d taken different routes to determine which path you traveled on. A barmaid spotted you leaving with Miss Fairfax.” He arched a mocking eyebrow. “The wench had no qualms about sharing that snippet for the right price.”

Bollocks.

Highbury must, indeed, be desperate to retrieve Beatrice. But how did the earl think to gain control of her fortune?

Certainly not through legal means.

“How did you manage to evade them and leave without them following you?” A very real worry because Cassius and Layton would be hard-pressed to defend Beatrice against four, possibly more hired thugs, even if Layton carried a gun.

Layton slid Beatrice another cautious glance.

“Let’s just say another barmaid took a fancy to me—said I looked like a swashbuckler.” He grinned, a devilish glint in his gray eye when he winked. “At my request, she produced laudanum, and I dosed the blokes’ tankards with enough to take down a draft horse. I doubt they’ve awoken yet.”

Cassius chose not to inquire further from his eldest brother about the details of his delay. It didn’t take a great deal of imagination to work those out, and he’d spare Beatrice’s tender sensibilities.

Beatrice cleared her throat, then darted her tongue out to dampen her lower lip, betraying her nervousness. She approached them.

“Forgive me for interrupting, but did I hear you correctly, Captain Westbrook? My uncle sent more than one man after me?”

“Forgive me, Beatrice.” Cassius wasn’t usually a clod-pole when it came to manners, but this wasn’t exactly a Grosvenor Square drawing room either.

“Layton, allow me to introduce Miss Beatrice Fairfax. Beatrice, my brother, Captain Layton Westbrook.”

“At your service, Miss Fairfax.” Layton bowed. “And yes. I encountered four men last night. I don’t believe that is all of them, either.” He swept his hand toward the horses. “Hence the need for us to ride the rest of the way to Hefferwickshire House.”

Beatrice shook her head, panic darkening her eyes to jade. “B-but I do not ride.”

Cassius read the concern on Layton’s face.

There was no need for him to voice the danger they were all in.

“You’ll ride before me, Beatrice.” Though it would likely kill Cassius to have her bum bouncing on his nether regions for hours on end. He almost groaned aloud at the thought, but the smug glint in Layton’s eye kept him silent.

Her color high, she shook her head, causing her bonnet ribbons to flap with the vehement motion. “No…I?—”

“You do not have a choice.” Cassius cut her off, his tone not permitting any argument. “It is one thing to endanger myself. I shan’t endanger my brother or you.”

She snapped her mouth shut, but her eyes berated him.

Yet she must know he spoke the truth.

She didn’t have a choice.

With the horses, they could cut through fields and take shortcuts a coach could not manage.

Layton removed his dusty bicorn hat and swiped a gloved hand across his forehead.

“I’ll take care of the coachmen. A hefty bribe will encourage them to take a turnpike in the opposite direction.” He eyed the coach. “Luggage?”

“None.” Thank God for that small favor. “But there is food, a blanket, and a canteen inside the coach. We’ll need those.”

Layton grunted and nodded before retrieving the items and then approaching the curious drivers and murmuring to them beneath his breath.

Eyes wide and worried, Beatrice nervously licked her lips again.

Cassius narrowed his eyes.

She looked feverish.

Was she up to the hard trek ahead?

She must be.

The sorrel mare snorted and tossed her head.

“I’ve never even sat on a horse, Cassius,” Beatrice murmured, eyeing the horses with undisguised dismay.

Sighing, he placed his hands on her shoulders. She was delicate, but not frail.

She didn’t feel overly hot either.

“I promised to keep you safe, Beatrice.” He searched her vulnerable face. “Do you trust me?”

She was silent for a long moment, then gave a single nod. “Yes.”

Layton returned to their side just as the coach rumbled away.

Cassius vaulted onto the bay gelding, then gave his brother a nod.

Before she could protest, Layton grasped her by the waist and lifted her into Cassius’s waiting arms.

He plopped her sideways atop his thighs, effectively silencing her little shriek of terror.

She promptly wrapped her arms around his waist, clinging to him as tightly as a barnacle to a ship.

Layton secured the food and other items to the riderless horse. “We can rotate horses. That should allow us to ride longer.”

Cassius nodded.

Teddy pranced in circles, looking up at Beatrice, his little brown eye filled with worry.

“I’ll carry the small dog.” Layton climbed into the saddle, Teddy under one arm. “The large one can run beside us.”

After an anxious glance at his mistress, Teddy circled two times and lay down.

“Traitor,” Beatrice mumbled into Cassius’s chest.

She trembled against him like a leaf, buffeted by a springtime gale. Her essence of soap and lavender wafted upward.

God help him.

Beatrice Fairfax was every bit as intoxicating as the finest brandy.

“Hold on, Beatrice. We ride.”