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T HE NEXT FEW DAYS , V IVIENNE was determined to be on her best behavior. She settled into a routine of taking her morning constitutionals along the river, followed by visiting with Grandmother Larkby over tea multiple times a day and spending the heat of the day in her room writing.

Charlotte, of course, noticed Vivienne’s diligence of acting a lady and more than once pressed her to share everything that had occurred the day she’d disappeared.

However, there was only so much humiliation Vivienne was willing to suffer, and the retelling of it would have been the end of her.

Instead, she merely inferred that she had been stuck and Sir Sebastian had found her.

No matter how much Charlotte pressed, Vivienne would take this one to her grave.

And if she had her way, neither Muriel nor Tess would ever know.

With a flourish, she finished the final line of the chapter with the most romantic scene she had ever penned, thinking of her handsome highwayman for the whole of it.

Between Bash’s return of her funds, this novel, and the serialized story for the Bath Chronicle , she would have more than enough for the staff’s wages and be able to indulge in adding a few new pieces to her wardrobe each season to avoid appearing dowdy once the brightness of Muriel’s generous trunks of frocks faded.

“It has been three days since you have spent any time in Sir Sebastian’s company.

There are only so many meals you can take in your room due to ‘the muse finding you.’ The servants are talking,” Charlotte said, embroidering a pillow upon the window seat.

“I think you should forgo your hours of writing today and seek him out if you want to stanch the rumors downstairs of you two having a quarrel. It will surely reach Mrs. Larkby before the day is out if you do not see to it.”

Vivienne blew on the fresh ink on the page, and when satisfied it would not run, she flapped the open notebook in the air for good measure. “You don’t understand, Charlotte. I can’t see him.”

“I would understand if you would tell me, but as I will not press you again, you need to see to this on your own without any of my help.” Charlotte stabbed the fabric, scowling and muttering.

Vivienne closed her book and rose. Charlotte was right, as always.

If she didn’t love the girl so much, she might consider it nice to have a companion who wasn’t always in the right.

She patted Charlotte’s shoulder and headed into the hallway, checking first in the library to see if Sebastian was playing billiards.

A passing footman, holding a tray with a covered dish, noticed her searching and approached with a slight bow. “May I be of service, my lady?”

She forced confidence into her voice. “I was hoping to find my husband. I have an urgent matter to discuss with him.”

The footman nodded, eyes flashing with concern. “An urgent matter? Allow me to take this to Mrs. Larkby’s room, and then I will assist you and fetch him from the stables.”

“Stables?”

“I believe he was going for a ride.” He bowed again.

“No need to fetch him. You have a tray to deliver, and I would enjoy a turn out of doors. You have been most helpful.” She nodded to the man and hurried around him, praying she did not look like the guilty houseguest that she was.

Bash was running the comb down Brigand’s flank when he heard a feminine voice.

He stiffened, realizing his mistake. He had brought his horse to the manor.

Of course, he had never expected the woman he had abducted on Brigand to be a guest in his own home.

And with her having been on the striking horse, she would no doubt recognize Brigand in an instant … and closely thereafter, him .

He chucked the comb into the wooden bucket, leaving his mount halfway groomed. Brigand shook his mane and stomped in protest.

“Sorry, boy. I’ve got to run. Noah will see to you.” Bash raced out of the stall, shutting the door behind him to find Evie picking her way across the stables, lifting her skirts to avoid unsavory lumps on the pavers.

“Lady Larkby? What brings you to the stables?”

Her gaze met his, her cheeks blossoming at being caught with her hem revealing her pretty ankle.

He hadn’t seen this side of her when she was his captive—a shy maiden.

The woman on the road had been fierce, bold, and fearless.

This Vivienne Larkby was shy, uncertain.

He needed to do his best to reassure her that he would follow through on his deal and encourage the fiery spirit he had seen in her to resurface once more.

Her quick wit and ability to catch him off guard was addicting.

It was not every day that Bash found someone who could surprise him.

“You, actually.”

“What a lovely surprise. I have not seen you nor your companion for days.”

“She has not left my side since that day, and I suppose our schedules did not align, as I have been breakfasting quite early.”

He peered behind her.

“Well, Charlotte has to nap some time.” She smiled. “Your grandmother and I have spent some lovely time together. I dare say that she seems much happier than just a few days ago.”

“That is my prayer.” He inclined his head. “Shall we walk beyond the stables? I can show you the grounds, as I believe you were too caught up to see them the last time you went exploring?”

“About that—”

“All is forgiven and do not think another moment on the situation.” He extended his arm, eager to distract her. “You’ll need to know the ins and outs of the estate in order to entertain yourself whilst not in town.”

“Very well.” They walked in silence as she studied the fast-flowing river. “So what made you wish to become a Yeoman of the Guard?”

“My great-grandfather served the Crown, as well as my grandfather. My father died in service.”

She pressed a hand to her heart. “I am so sorry. It is a terrible thing to lose a parent.”

“I never knew him, but I felt compelled to follow in his steps. Our family has had a long legacy of knighthood, but there has not been a Larkby knight since my great-grandfather. I was granted the knighthood only two years ago for going above and beyond for the Crown.”

She cleared her throat. “Sir Sebastian, please forgive my next question.”

“Oh dear.”

“What?”

“You have never shied away from uncomfortable questions, and now you approach one with an apology? I tremble at what you may ask.” He grinned.

“This question is delicate in nature.” She reached out and plucked a wildflower, but instead of the stem breaking, she brought up the entire root. She grimaced and knelt, patting it back into the earth. “Sorry! I thought the stem weak.”

He knelt and unfolded his pocketknife, handing it to her. “’Tis only a wildflower. No need to try to plant it again.”

“Thank you.” She accepted the knife, her fingers grazing his. The blade sliced cleanly through the wildflower, and instead of handing the knife back to him, she proceeded to gather a bouquet. “What are we to do when your grandmother recovers?”

“You truly believe she is getting better?” Hope surged in his chest.

She nodded. “The doctor saw to her this morning, but as I left her chamber, I heard him exclaim over the color in her cheeks. I have reason to hope … which has me wondering what that means for us.”

“I have hope too.” He rested his hand over hers, and to his surprise, she did not pull away. “Let us not dwell upon what would happen if we must tell her the truth. That is tomorrow’s worry.”

“Even though I am concerned about our next step today?”

“The first step is to see she is well again.” He bowed his head, whispering, “Lord, let it be so.”

“And if she does recover, shall we only break her heart with the truth?” She voiced the very fear of his heart.

He exhaled. “I fear it is the only path, but she is a kind, reasonable woman and will see the logic behind our charade. She will be disappointed but will not give you away to society in any event. We shall uphold the deal. Until she is fully recovered, be the granddaughter she has always wished.”

“That shall not be difficult, as I have come to care for her in these few days.” She groaned. “This lie was to be one of mercy, Sebastian, and now it feels like anything but.”

He kicked at a dead bloom on the path. “I never asked you …”

“Yes?”

“By this arrangement, are you sacrificing a hope of marriage to a gentleman of interest?”

Her cheeks bloomed. “There is no gentleman in my heart. I would be mad to release my independence for a man whom I do not hold in affection. No, our arrangement is not causing my marriage prospects harm.”

He thought he caught a gentle inflection on the word gentleman .

Did she have feelings for the highwayman?

He longed to find out … but to do that, he would need to become the highwayman.

Surely to court her in such a disguise was madness?

But didn’t she say madness was the only way she would be induced into matrimony?

And what if she discovered it was him while he was in disguise?

Would she despise him? Think he was playing her for the fool?

He couldn’t risk it—as much as he wished to.

They came to the arching stone bridge and strolled to the middle. She leaned over the railing, watching a mother duck and her ducklings swim beneath, smiling at the sight, and then they returned to the path on the manor’s shore. They followed the river in silence as she studied their surroundings.

“It would be a pity not to learn something about each other’s childhood.” Bash cleared his throat. “I had thought we should better acquaint ourselves, seeing as we are thrown together for the fortnight.”

“True.” She nodded and was about to continue, when a low growl cut her off and sent her veering into his side.

Bash thrust himself in front of her, shielding her with his outstretched arm as a dog strode onto the path, hackles raised.