Page 17 of Memories Made At Midnight (Chronicles of the Westbrook Brides #9)

The South Pennines

Approximately fifty miles from Cumberland

NEAR MIDNIGHT THAT EVENING

I cannot endure this much longer .

But Beatrice would.

For as long as it took.

Even if each step the tired horse took sent a jolt of pain up her spine. Even if her lungs burned with each indrawn breath. And even if she felt as weak as a newborn kitten.

At long last, the weary horses drew to a halt before a hunting lodge. At least that’s what Beatrice thought it was in the shadowy light. To the left of the ramshackle building, a lean-to stood at a haphazard angle. That must be for horses.

She gravitated her attention back to the dilapidated building. Actually, it wasn’t in as appalling shape as she’d first thought, but if anyone had used the shelter in the past decade, she’d dance a jig. Still, she didn’t want to consider what creepy- crawly creatures might have taken up residence in the neglected structure.

Nala promptly plopped to the ground and rested her head on her front paws. The poor dog was unused to walking for so many hours, and tomorrow wouldn’t be much kinder to her, though Cassius assured Beatrice they should reach the ducal estate by mid-afternoon.

Beatrice worried the dog’s paws would become tender and raw, but what else were they to do?

She would never leave Nala behind, and there was simply no way to carry her.

Beatrice swallowed back a haze of tears.

Not given to weepiness, she credited the waterworks to exhaustion, fear, feeling sorer than she’d ever been in her life, and being sick without so much as an herbal tea to ease her tormented throat. How she would survive another bone-jarring, muscle-tormenting day atop a horse, she didn’t allow herself to contemplate.

It had only taken a couple of hours for her to mostly overcome her fear of toppling off and to admit that riding did indeed enable them to travel tracks and trails they would never have managed by coach.

So far, they’d evaded Uncle Cedric’s henchmen, but Beatrice credited that with Captain Westbrook’s keen intelligence and stealth. Had she and Cassius not come upon him, this venture might very well have had a vastly different outcome.

Gritting her teeth against the pulsing ache in her spine from sitting at the awkward angle for hours on end, Beatrice lifted her weary gaze and took in the small glen. Water burbled, annoyingly cheerfully from somewhere beyond the cabin.

In another time and place, she might’ve appreciated the landscapes they’d passed through today, and even this ethereal scenery where a fairy or a wood nymph might peek at them from behind a Bracken or Lady Fern.

However, the ferocity with which her uncle chased her loomed, stealing any excitement or enjoyment she might’ve otherwise had regarding her first journey away from Brighton.

An owl hooted, twit-twoo, twit-twoo , the call lonely and haunting in the breezeless night.

Though she didn’t give a moment’s credence to the silly folklore of hearing an owl’s hoot foretelling misfortune or death, nevertheless, a shudder rippled up her back, and she pulled her cloak tighter around her.

She’d vacillated between freezing cold and scorching hot for the better part of three hours now. Perspiration dampened her gown along her spine, under her arms, and between her breasts.

What she wouldn’t give for that bath she’d missed last night.

Not only had she never been this miserably tired, she’d never been so dirty, and she suspected she smelled of sweat.

She took a dainty sniff and curled her nose.

A few miles back, Cassius had murmured into her ear that they had reached The South Pennines. His sturdy arms around her throughout the harrowing journey had not only supported her but comforted her as well. She refused to let her mind wander to the intimacy of sitting on his lap and the forbidden feelings that closeness stirred in her.

The higher elevation brought cooler temperatures, especially as the night wore on. Moonlight filtered through the leaves of the woodland canopy overhead, dappling the ground with silvery light.

Captain Westbrook dismounted with the ease of someone accustomed to long hours in the saddle. After placing Teddy on the ground, who promptly trotted to Nala and touched noses with her, the captain stretched his arms wide.

“Ready to dismount, Miss Fairfax?” he asked.

She nodded, then realized he might not be able to see her in the muted half-light. “Yes.”

He lifted Beatrice to the ground, and she almost crumpled, so stiff were her legs. A small moan filtered past her lips.

Oh, God .

Never had she felt this wretched.

“I have you.” Sympathy tempered the captain’s voice. “Give your legs a few minutes to adjust to your weight.”

“When I get my inheritance, I’m purchasing the most luxurious coach money can buy. I’ll even pay for extra padding on the seats, which shall fold out into a comfortable bed.” She wouldn’t, of course. To do so would be an unnecessary and flamboyant waste of funds.

Cassius and his brother chuckled.

Brutes .

“Can you stand on your own now?” Captain Westbrook asked as Cassius slid from his horse.

She gave a stiff nod.

Stand?

Yes.

Move?

Beatrice wasn’t positive she could. Not without help.

It bruised her pride to be so needy when the brothers had ridden just as long as she and seemed no worse the wear from the journey.

“I’ll see to the horses, Cassius.” The captain gathered the reins. “Why don’t you help Miss Fairfax inside and see if there’s a candle or lamp?”

A bed ? A washstand ? A fire ?

As if reading her mind, Cassius murmured, “We don’t dare light a fire, though.”

Rot and bother .

She tried to hide her shivering, but Cassius noticed.

“Bring the horse blankets in,” he said to his brother. “At least we’ll have those for warmth tonight.”

Wonderful .

Beatrice could add sweaty horse to the list of other odors she already smelled on herself. What a lovely way to meet the Duke and Duchess of Latham. Disheveled. Stinking. Sick. And pursued by ruffians. Surely, she would make a grand impression.

As she skimmed the ramshackle hut with her dubious regard, another shudder shook her, but it wasn’t caused by cold this time.

In truth, she wasn’t altogether keen on being the first to enter the cottage, which likely was the home to a hoard of spiders and four-legged creatures with beady eyes, twitchy whiskers, and sharp teeth. Nevertheless, she’d been a tremendous burden to these two men already, and she’d bite off her tongue before voicing any of her fears.

A cough shook her shoulders and battered her ribs, but she muffled the sound by covering her mouth with a handkerchief. So help her God, she would not be the cause of them getting caught. She didn’t think her uncle’s men knew the shortcuts or back trails they’d taken to reach this woodland.

She prayed they didn’t.

In flat places where the horses’ hooves left imprints, the captain had secured a bushy branch to the third horse to drag along the ground and sweep away the signs that they’d passed by. The trick wouldn’t fool a trained tracker, but Beatrice doubted her uncle had hired the men chasing her for that particular skill.

“Let me help you.” Cassius took her elbow and allowed her to set a slow pace toward the lodge.

To her surprise, once she forced the stiff muscles to work, the soreness eased, though she still toddled along like an ancient crone.

A giggle escaped her, followed by a hacking cough.

Forehead puzzled, Cassius looked downward. “What’s so funny?”

“I’m walking like an old lady.” She wavered, and he quickly steadied her.

“Cassius?”

He bent near, concern pleating the corners of his face.

“I’m sorry to be a burden.” Black spots danced before her vision, and the buzzing in her ears grew louder.

She closed her eyes but forced them back open.

The cottage was too far away.

Beatrice couldn’t do it.

She didn’t have one ounce of strength left.

As if sensing her dilemma, Cassius scooped her into his powerful arms.

“Thank—”

Then everything went blank.