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Chapter Eight

“ W ake up.” The hissed words travelled up her spine like a spider dancing up its web.

Kitty’s eyes flew open to pitch-blackness. “Wh-what?”

A vice-like grip bit into her arm. “I said wake up. We’re leaving.”

Garrick. In a sickening rush, memory flooded back. Her departure from Claybourne Manor. The earl’s encouraging smile. Zeke. Her heart squeezed as she thought of him. But why? Because his loose lips had landed her here? No. Because last night she’d come to the conclusion she'd never see him again.

She silently chastised herself. She had real problems to worry about.

“What time is it?” She demanded of Garrick. Her gritty eyes told her she’d barely slept. “Where are we going?”

He ignored her. A moment later an oil lamp ignited, shedding muted light on the small room.

“My lady?” came a frightened voice from the corner. The poor maid, Mary, whom Zeke had offered up for Kitty’s protection.

Garrick cursed under his breath and muttered something about dealing with baggage. He stalked toward the hapless Mary, huddled under her blanket on a makeshift palette.

“Whatever your name is, your services are no longer required. In several hours, Claybourne will send someone to collect you. You will wait here until then. Understood?”

She nodded, wide-eyed, sheets to her chin. She slid Kitty a sheepish look.

Kitty didn’t blame her. She’d known from the outset the girl’s presence could offer no more than a token shield against Garrick’s tyranny. What could a young female servant do to protect Kitty from the likes of him? Less than Kitty herself.

Not to mention the poor girl was terrified. Last night she’d turned to Kitty for comfort after Garrick threatened both of them with bodily harm should either attempt to leave the chamber.

His threats hadn’t stopped Kitty from trying the door after he left, much to Mary’s distress.

“You shouldn’t be doing that, m’lady. What if his lordship hears? He said he’d hurt us.” She all but tugged at Kitty’s sleeve.

“He’s likely to do worse to us if we stay.”

She regretted her words immediately as they sent Mary into a frenzy of tears, and all for naught. He’d locked them in.

“You have five minutes.” Garrick’s menacing voice cut into her thoughts. He let himself out into the corridor, shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Will you be all right, milady?” Mary whispered.

“I’ll be fine, Mary, never you mind.” She knew nothing of the sort, but why trouble the poor girl with her problems?

Mary rose to help her into her high necked gown.

She hadn’t much else in the way of things. Sturdy shoes, yes, but no gloves or hat or pelisse. She eyed herself in the small mirror above the basin.

Dark circles underscored her eyes. A few errant curls hung loose, defying her hasty attempt to secure her hair in a knot at her nape. Her dress was a hopeless, rumpled mess. She looked utterly beaten.

She smiled. Good.

She mentally rehearsed her options, or lack thereof, as she waited for Garrick to return for her.

She could fight, or scream for help once in earshot of the inn’s other patrons.

But no good would come of it. If anyone bothered to intervene on her behalf, Garrick would proclaim himself her legal guardian, with every right to drag, push, or pull her wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.

She really had only one option.

Minutes later, a gloating Garrick directed her down the narrow flight of stairs. He looked as cocksure as he ever had, certain he led her, a docile lamb, to the slaughter.

Little did he know she was saving her energy, waiting for an opportunity of escape to present itself.

They exited the meagerly lit boarding house, stepping into a a sea of fog that seemed to wrap around her like a vice. No stars shown in the low-domed sky, but dawn’s faint light glimmered over the far off rooftops.

“This way.” Grasping her wrist as if he feared she might bolt, he dragged her to the street corner where two large trunks stood.

They were really leaving, then. A bone-deep fear almost overcame her carefully crafted decision to play the broken-spirited prisoner, urging her to pick up her skirts and flee for her life.

But she had to be smarter than that. He would only run her down, then keep an even closer watch.

She sucked in a breath and forced herself to remain calm.

Garrick fixed a sharp eye on her, as if reading her thoughts.“The carriage will be ’round in a moment. Be a good girl and don’t give us any trouble, hmm?”

As if on cue, the rhythmic sound of horse hooves and clatter of wheels pierced the morning quiet. Garrick sent her a smile of pure male satisfaction.

She refused to grace his malevolence with a reaction, even as her empty stomach threatened to empty itself right there on the street. What would happen to her once Garrick got her away from London?

She would escape. She had to.

As the carriage neared, the fog seemed to part before it, as if making way for the handsome, matching grays and fine vehicle. He’d evidently spared no expense to ensure his comfort over the next several hours as they made their way to God knew where.

A second carriage trailed close behind the first. Kitty looked around, wondering if more guests were departing the boarding house at this early hour. So far as she could tell, she and her cousin were alone.

The carriage drew to a halt in front of them, a man in livery at the helm.

Was this Garrick’s personal coach? Certainly her grandfather had owned one, but not one this fine, and they had not kept a dedicated groom on staff as one had not been needed. The driver hopped to the pavement, placing the footstep.

The door to the carriage opened—from the inside. But that would mean it already carried a passenger.

Kitty shot Garrick a questioning look, and only then did she see his expression of horrified disbelief.

A man emerged from the darkened interior. His broad shoulders took up the entire width of the opening.

“What? No,” Garrick gasped.

She shook her head trying to clear her hallucination. She must be seeing what she wanted to see. He couldn’t possibly be here.

“Good morning,” came Zeke’s achingly familiar, completely out of place voice, and her knees threatened to buckle.

He bypassed the step, vaulting onto the curb in one lithe move, then turned to help another passenger, an elegantly dressed, elderly looking lady, from the carriage.

Kitty stared unblinking, afraid if she looked away, the pair would vanish.

In no apparent hurry, Zeke tucked the lady’s arm into the crook of his elbow, then turned to Garrick, a wolfish smile on his face. In his dark, fitted traveling attire and flowing black cape, he resembled a figure from a gothic novel. Not so much a hero as a villain. A wickedly handsome villain.

“Good. I thought we might be too early,” Zeke announced.

Garrick cleared his throat. “Too early.” He held up a gloved hand, gesturing for Zeke to give him a moment.

Zeke waited, a bland smile curving his mouth.

Finally, as if to himself, Garrick nodded. Then he tilted his head back to address Zeke. “It is quite early. I wasn’t expecting you quite yet.”

The second carriage halted behind Zeke’s.

Ah. Garrick’s rented carriage, she surmised. No matching grays there.

“No? Surely you didn’t expect me to shirk my responsibilities to my lovely fiancé?”

“Your responsibilities?”

“It occurred to the earl and I after you left last night. Now that the cat’s out of the bag, Lady Kitty must retrieve her wardrobe.

To that end, I shall escort her to Maidstone while you, dear baron, travel ahead to Derbyshire.

The earl’s already underway. It should take you,” he shrugged, “perhaps four days? We shall be behind you but one. Two at the utmost.”

After a brief pause whereby Zeke appeared to wait for Garrick to respond—which he did not—he continued. “I, of course, brought along a proper chaperone.”

He gestured with his free hand to the elegant woman at his side. “Allow me to introduce my great-aunt, Lady Lillian Thurgood. Aunt Lillian, meet Lord James, the Baron of Maidstone. and his charge, my fiancé, Lady Christine Hastings.”

Lady Lillian Thurgood? The earl’s sister? She certainly looked the part. Would Zeke actually drag the lady from her bed, and into this mess, only to play-act the part of chaperone?

Lady Lillian, or whoever she was, smiled demurely, and offered her hand to Garrick, who took it after a brief hesitation.

Kitty moved forward and dipped a curtsy. “My lady.”

Garrick shifted to stand between Kitty and the two.

“Lord Thurgood, you needn’t have troubled yourself or your aunt to arise so early this morning.

Kitty is my responsibility. As such, I will see to her needs.

Indeed I was”—Garrick cleared his throat—“preparing to take her to Hastings House now to collect some of her things for our stay in Derbyshire.”

Kitty’s eyes widened. She stared hard at Zeke, willing him not to believe Garrick. As far as she could tell, however, Zeke wasn’t interested in any input from her. He didn’t so much as blink in her direction.

“It’s no trouble, Lord Maidstone. Besides, Lady Thurgood is a much more appropriate chaperone. By the by. Where is Mary?”

Garrick looked momentarily nonplussed by the question. “She’s…uh…coming any moment.”

“Of course she is. Please inform her someone from the household will be 'round shortly to collect her. As for Lady Kitty and I, we will rendezvous with you in Derbyshire in a few days time.” Hiss tone brooked no opposition. “I insist.”

Garrick’s jaw stiffened and he looked ready to argue. “Lord Thurgood—”

Zeke moved forward, crowding in on Garrick. “Yes, Lord James?”

“Your generosity knows no bounds.”

He gave Garrick a cool look, and turned to address his coachman.

“A moment with my ward,” Garrick said to Lady Lillian.

Taking Kitty’s wrist, he pulled her several feet from the small group. He released her wrist only to grasp her bare hand. He crushed the delicate bones in a vicious semblance of a gentlemanly gesture, eliciting a hiss of pain from her as he bent and lifted her hand to his grim lips.

“I was so looking forward to catching up with you today, my charge,” he ground out, sending her an icy, warning glare before releasing her.

Zeke appeared at her side. “James,” he said by way of parting, then grasped her elbow and steered her toward the coach.

Kitty felt herself handed up into the luxurious Claybourne carriage. In a daze, she settled next to Lady Lillian, Zeke’s supposed great-aunt.

Zeke’s large frame filled the cab opening, blocking the meager light from the street lamps.

He levered himself inside and dropped onto the bench opposite her.

The cabin seemed warmer, just from his presence.

The smell of him—his spicy, masculine scent—wafted toward her, as inviting and appealing as ever.

She wanted to fling herself onto him and shower him with kisses of gratitude.

Instead she massaged her bruised hand and offered a wobbly smile. “Thank you, my lord,” she said softly.

He made no reply, merely regarded her in stoic silence as the well-sprung carriage glided forward.

Her smile stalled, and her heart closed in on itself. He might have rescued her, but his opinion of her, if anything, had lowered.

She twisted to face her other travel companion. “Lady Lillian, I presume? Are you Lord Claybourne’s sister about whom I’ve heard so much?”

The lady laughed in delight. “Indeed I am. Enchanted to meet you, my dear.”

“I can’t begin to express my gratitude for your assistance in this matter, nor can I properly convey my apologies for involving you in"—She gestured vaguely—“all of this, and dragging you out in the middle of the night.”

The lady gave Kitty a kind smile that reached her aged eyes. “You are most welcome, Lady Christine. As to my late-night recruitment, no apology necessary. I can’t remember the last time I had anything so interesting to occupy my time.”

“You’re very gracious.”

Lady Lillian waved off the compliment and peered at Kitty’s face. “Now I see you, I can’t believe you played the part of a boy these past months. With your fine bone structure and that porcelain skin, it’s a wonder anyone believed the ruse. Bravo.”

Kitty’s spirits lifted a little. Someone had apprised Lady Lillian of at least some of the facts, and she didn’t appear appalled. “Yes, well, Lord Claybourne and I tried to keep a low profile. At least, that had been the plan.” She slanted a meaningful glance at Zeke.

He stared out the window at the passing terrain, two fingers holding the curtain aside. He gave no indication he’d heard Kitty’s pointed remark.

Just as well, considering he had just rescued her. “Lord Thurgood,” she began, “I confess, I’m more than a little surprised you came.”

When he made no reply, merely shifted his gaze in her direction, she went on. “May I ask where we’re heading, or rather, where you’re taking me?”

One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Weren’t you listening, darling? We’re off to Maidstone to fetch some of your things. Such as gowns and dainty little slippers.” He waggled his fingers at the last. “Perhaps you’ve heard of them? Ladies wear them.”

She ignored the barb, and instead focused the more important point. “All the way to Maidstone? That’s very kind of you. What will you tell Garrick?”

He leaned back, spreading his arms to rest them on top of the seat cushion. He appeared genuinely perplexed. “I don’t follow.”

“What will you tell my cousin when we—I—never arrive at Chissington Hall?”

“Lady Hastings,” Zeke said in a silken voice. “We are heading for Hastings House, where we will retrieve some of your clothes and girly accessories. Afterwards, we will make for Derby, where we will”—he paused to heave a world weary sigh—“act out our brief engagement.”