Page 10 of The One With the Wayward Duke (The One With the Wanton Woman #5)

S TEPPING OUT OF THE tavern with Tobias, the two looked to the dark clouds above. Freya didn’t want to state the obvious, but a storm was on its way. It was practically overhead already.

Tobias wasn’t speaking to her, but his body language was clear. He was going to get the carriage and try to make it out of there. To where, she didn’t know. There was no chance they were going to make it anywhere safe before the clouds burst and the rain poured down on them.

But she was not going to say that to him. Not with the current state that he was in. The outside corners of his lips couldn’t pull back any tighter, and the inside corners of his brows couldn’t push together any closer. Needless to say, he was in a mood.

So Freya stood patiently where he had indicated that she should wait for him while the carriage was brought around.

Once it had stopped in front of her, Tobias flung the door open and motioned for her to get in. His death stare had silenced her before she could get the Where of Where are we going? out of her mouth.

So now she sat patiently for him to enter the carriage.

Only, he didn’t haul himself onto the seat.

Instead, he closed the door and looked around.

Not waiting even a second to pass, she scooted over to the window, pulling back the curtains, so she could see what he was doing.

Certainly he wasn’t sending her on her way.

Not now. There was no way he would leave her in this mess alone.

He wouldn’t! Not after everything they had been through.

Not with the rains coming. Not when she needed him.

Well, erm…that is to say, she wanted him around.

She was feeling a bit like a floundering fish out of water at the moment, and he could at least do the gentle-fishermanly thing to do and place her nicely back in her waters.

Wherever that was.

Through the glass pane, she watched Tobias look around.

He glanced back and forth across the street a few times and up to the sky several more.

Both of his hands were scrubbing his face.

She knew he saw the clouds too and was making a decision, probably the one he should have made in the first place.

Then something must have caught his attention.

Not wanting to open the door and disturb him, her view was constrained by the angle of the window.

Finally, she saw what had distracted him.

Herman, of all people, was heading across the street.

Only, Tobias stepped in front of him, obstructing his path.

Mouths were moving but at first she couldn’t hear what they were saying. When she saw Tobias’s finger stab Herman in the chest, she heard the words that he spoke louder than the rest, “You won’t be sleeping under the same roof as us.”

Herman raised his voice in return, “They only have an attic room left.”

“Then you’ll take that one.”

The two men glared at each other until Herman huffed and turned around back to enter The Man Trap.

She studied Tobias as he remained a fixture in the street, his eyes closed, fists at his side, and head tilted slightly up to the sky, looking like a man trying to gather his wits but with no hint of a trail to track them down.

And just when she thought he had calmed himself, and perhaps he had too, the clouds burst open.

Heavy rains thundered down on the carriage causing it to shake ever so slightly.

She watched the rains pound down upon Tobias’s broad shoulders—one…two…three. With swift steps he marched over to her.

“Go to The Silent Flute inn across the street. Wait for me there.”

“But—”

His glare silenced her.

“Do it now. Speak to no one. I’ll be right behind you.”

A quick move up and out of the carriage, she grabbed her skirts—lifting ever so slightly—and raced across the street.

Within mere seconds, she was drenched, but safely inside the new inn. The Silent Flute sounded like the perfect place to rest before they returned home.

Freya took a quick glance around, noticing quite a few patrons taking refuge from the rain. She hoped they could find a table, but it looked full.

Just then, she heard someone clear their throat.

“Freya? Is that really you?”

Swiveling her head slowly, she took in the old familiar face of a boy-turned-man she once knew.

“Billy?”

“Yes, it’s me.” A grin broke his face. “I’m the Earl of Cadmore now.”

Here was safety and comfort, a boy that had always been loose family friends with her and her sisters.

“How are you? What are you doing here?” She reached her hand onto his forearm and gave a small squeeze. “It’s been a few years since I’ve seen you. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been traveling. Finding myself. It was quite the journey.” His smile shone warmly through his eyes. “I heard you were getting married—” He stopped mid-sentence, likely in reaction to her facial expression, though she wasn’t precisely sure what it had conveyed.

“You didn’t marry—what’s his name—Frank, today?”

She shook her head slowly, not wanting to get into the details. It was so personal. How could she explain herself to him? To anyone? Her decision felt so foolish. Yet right.

When he took her hands in his, her body stiffened. “Freya, are you saying that I still have a chance?” A whoosh of breath exhaled from his lips. “I didn’t think it was possible. And I wasn’t about to upturn a wedding, but” —he sighed again— “this must be fate.”

Oh dear, Lord. This could not be happening right now. Billy? In love with her? No. They had always been friends. She had shared a small kiss with him, her first. If one could count it.

He leaned in close, so only she could hear, “I still remember our first kiss.” Apparently he counted it.

Inwardly she groaned. No. Why was this happening?

What was her heart doing to her? She didn’t love Frank, so she ran away from him.

She thought she loved Herman, so she ran to him.

She definitely did not love Billy, but he thought he loved her (and maybe he did) and now she had inadvertently run into his arms. What was going on?

He dropped to one knee, holding her hand in his palm. “Freya, there’s a reason you’re here, with me—”

“She’s not here with you, good sir.” From behind, a strong arm wrapped around her middle, his fingers dug into her waist, and pulled her back into his chest. “She’s here with me.”

“And who might you be?” Billy asked, not able to hide his contempt nor his disappointment.

“I’m her husband.”