Page 27 of Road Trip With a Rogue (Her Majesty’s Rebels #3)
Vaughan let out a frustrated sigh, but he clearly realized further argument was futile. “Fine. But let me escort you back to Wansford Hall. It’s not safe for you to travel alone with just Finch, even with all of your knives.”
He was right, curse him, and he must have sensed her indecision, because he pressed home the advantage.
“At the very least, come with Perry, Violet, and me to Carisbrooke Hall and stay there tonight,” he coaxed. “I’ll ask one of the female servants to accompany you as a chaperone for the rest of the journey, and provide an extra coachman and outriders for protection.”
She frowned, but was secretly glad of his offer. And since they wouldn’t be alone together, she wouldn’t be tempted to change her mind.
“I’ll even give you back your knives,” he said, before she could refuse. He reached into his jacket and withdrew the two he’d confiscated, holding them out with the handles facing her like a peace offering.
Daisy raised her brows. “Brave of you. You must be very sure I’m not going to stab you.”
His lips twitched. “If you’re going to do it, you should marry me first. That way, you’ll be a duchess as well as a widow, and I’ll die with the satisfaction that at least you’re protected by my name and fortune.”
She scowled at his levity. Tess had become a widowed duchess on the night of her first wedding when the old duke had cocked up his toes, but she hadn’t been the one to kill him. He’d died of natural causes.
“I don’t want to kill you, Vaughan. Just stab you somewhere painful.”
“My death could be your freedom.”
“You’re too wicked to oblige me by dying early. You’d live to be a hundred, just to annoy me.”
He chuckled. “Same goes for you. You’re too stubborn to die first. Maybe we should marry just to see which one of us wins?”
Daisy shook her head. Despite the fact that he didn’t love her, there were undeniable advantages to marrying him, not least his sense of humor.
The problem was, she’d probably end up falling in love with him, which would only lead to misery when he inevitably lost interest in her and took his attentions elsewhere.
Even the position of duchess, and the possibility of having children to love, wouldn’t make up for the heartache.
Her mother had discovered that. A gilded cage was still a cage.
She took the knives. Since she wasn’t wearing her holsters, she tucked them into her jacket pockets, one on each side, and the finality of the gesture made her heart sink. Vaughan had no excuse to seek her out now that he’d returned them.
“Thank you,” she said stiffly. “And I’ll accept your hospitality at Carisbrooke Hall. But only because I want a nice hot bath and a clean bed, neither of which I imagine this place can provide. I am not forgiving you.”
“Understood.” He nodded, once, then stepped past her and approached one of the stable hands who’d been forking hay in one of the stalls.
“You, there. Can you ready two carriage horses and take them about five miles back along the road to Carlisle? You’ll find my driver and carriage waiting for a new pair. ”
“’Course I can, milord.”
“Thank you.” Vaughan reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin that he flipped to the groom, who caught it with a deft swoop of his hand. “For your trouble.”
“Thank you, sir.” The man nodded his appreciation and gave a gap-toothed grin. “I’ll get right to it.”
Satisfied, Vaughan turned back to her and gestured toward the door. “Shall we? Perry and Violet will be wondering where we are.”
“Perry and Violet won’t even have realized we’re not there,” Daisy said grouchily. “A grenade could go off next to them and they wouldn’t notice.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how insensitive they were, considering Vaughan’s wartime experience. She clapped her hand over her mouth with a gasp. “I’m so sorry! It was just a figure of speech. I never meant to make a joke about your injury.”
Luckily, he seemed amused, and not mortally offended. “It’s fine. Really. You don’t have to watch what you say when you’re with me.”
“I really am sorry,” she repeated.
He laughed at her mortification. “You promised to discuss any topic with me on this journey, Hamilton. That includes this. Nothing is off-limits. Not with me.”
Something squeezed in her chest at his words, and she felt the oddest pang of melancholy.
She’d loved that aspect of the past three days.
The unexpected liberation of being able to say whatever she wanted without watching her tongue.
Without worrying that she’d be judged for being too inquisitive, too brash, too curious.
Too educated. The fact that their journey together was over left a hollow ache of regret.
She’d miss their candid conversations. She’d miss him.
Damn it.
She turned away to hide the ridiculous prick of tears that suddenly burned her eyes. “You go inside. I need a bit more time out here to get the stink of Letty Richardson out of my nose,” she muttered.
He paused, as if to argue, but she hurried off down the row of stalls and stopped to pat the nose of a friendly black mare. She saw him leave from the corner of her eye and pressed her forehead to the rough boards of the stable door with a choked little sob.
She’d just refused to marry Lucien Vaughan.
Five years ago, she’d have said yes in a heartbeat.
Three days ago, she’d have happily stabbed him through the heart.
Now she said no, even when half of her wanted to say yes.
Bloody Hell.