Page 21 of Road Trip With a Rogue
She tilted her head. “What about people? There must be people you love.”
“A select few. But loving someone opens you up to being hurt.”
“It is a bit of a double-edged sword,” she conceded thoughtfully. “Love makes you stronger and weaker at the same time. More vulnerable, but also invincible. That’show I feel about Ellie and Tess, anyway. I’d be lost without them.”
He nodded, refusing to ask if she was also thinking about the man she’d loved and lost. “You’re fortunate to have such close friends.”
“I am. Which is why I can’t let them down by failing to catch Violet and Peregrine.”
Lucien suppressed a groan. Daisy’s tenacity would be an admirable trait under different circumstances, but in this case, it was most unwelcome.
She was right to be suspicious of his motives, and he wondered what she’d do if he told her therealreason he was going along with her plans. Her quarry, Peregrine Hughes, was his nephew, the only son of his elder sister, Marion.
And while Daisy was determined to put a stop to Perry’s elopement, Lucien was equally keen to ensure it went ahead. He was heartily sick of chaperoning the love-struck fool around London, and selfishly keen to have his unwanted house guest out from under his feet for good.
The fact that Perry had managed to fall in love with an heiress, and not some gaudy opera singer or Covent Garden flower-seller was a miracle in itself—no less incredible than the fact that Violet seemed to return his affections.
Violet’s father didn’t approve of the match, but that was neither here nor there. Lucien had advised the two lovebirds to present the curmudgeonly Mr. Brand with afait accompli,and since he’d had little faith that two such simpleminded individuals could get themselves to Gretna Green unscathed, he’d been following them at a discreet distance ever since they left London.
The highwaymen’s attack had proved his decision tokeep a close eye on his charge was justified, but Daisy’s unexpected appearance had added a new and exciting twist. Lucien’s onerous task had suddenly becomefarmore interesting.
His lips quirked in dark amusement. Daisy was probably going to stab him with one of her knives when she discovered the truth, but he was enjoying her company too much to tell her. She was going to be a delightful diversion.
“I hope you’ll be ready for an early start tomorrow?” she said, breaking into his thoughts.
Lucien frowned into his wine. “How early, exactly?”
“Shall we say eight o’clock?”
“That’s an ungodly hour.”
She sent him a look full of mock-sympathy. “You poor thing. Have you ever exerted yourself to get out of bed before noon?”
He pinned her with a hot, direct look that immediately banished the teasing amusement from her face. “Only with the strongest of incentives,” he drawled. “Staying in my bed is usually a far more inviting prospect.”
He let that thought, that image, dance between them for a moment, and enjoyed the way her lips parted and the blood rushed to her cheeks. He stood and sent her a formal, mocking bow. “I’ll bid you good night. Sweet dreams.”
Chapter Ten
Daisy was up bright and early, impatient to be on the road. She’d slept fitfully, her dreams interrupted by an obnoxious number of lurid fantasies that all seemed to feature a dark, sardonic rake. She hadn’t needed to see his face to know his identity. Damn him.
The servants had washed and dried her breeches and shirt, and she’d packed a small bag with some extra clothes for the days ahead. The idea of spending two nights in the far more intimate confines of a public inn with Vaughan was unsettling, to say the least, and she was determined that her identity as a woman would remain undetected.
Mrs. Jennings had miraculously produced two spare white shirts, stockings, and an extra pair of breeches for her. The shirts were so fine they must have been ordered for Justin, but the breeches had doubtless come from one of the smaller stable lads.
Daisy had debated whether to pack a dress, then decided against it, and instead included the small stoppered flask of laudanum that Ellie had once given her.
Tess had used the same concoction to subdue a man inorder to search his house for clues as to who was blackmailing Princess Charlotte, and Daisy felt better knowing she had it as a secondary kind of insurance. If she found herself needing to escape Vaughan, for whatever reason, she would have no compunction about drugging him.
To her surprise, he was already in the breakfast room when she went downstairs, and she tried not to notice how good he looked with his face freshly shaved, and his dark hair curling against the perfect folds of his snowy cravat. He’d probably slept like a log, the brute.
He toasted her with his coffee cup. “Good morning, Dorothea.”
“Daisy,” she growled. “Although you should avoid even calling me that when we’re on the road.”
“You’re right, I should think of another name for you,” he said. “Several come to mind, but none I’d want to repeat in polite company.”
She gulped down a scalding sip of coffee while he regarded her with a gaze that made her wish she could read his mind. Or maybe not.