A Lady Never Surrenders Part 26

Walking up behind her, he began to lace her up. "Let's say, for the sake of argument, that she changed her mind." His voice was harsh, labored. "Suppose she decides that she doesn't approve of me. Suppose she refuses to give you your fortune if you defy her. What then?"

A knot formed in her belly. Did the money matter so much to him? "Then we don't have her fortune. I told you. I don't care."

"That's what you said." His tone was flat, tense.

Feeling a growing chill in her belly, she drew on her gown so he could fasten that up, too. "You don't believe me."

He was silent for so long as he b.u.t.toned her up that it made her chest hurt. "I don't believe you know what living without all that would mean."

She whirled on him. She'd had enough of his condescension and his behaving as if he were now going to be stuck with some spoiled wife who couldn't survive in his world-a perfectly genteel world, from what she could tell. "If you want to get out of marrying me, Jackson-"

"That isn't what I'm saying."

"It certainly sounds that way." She shoved her feet into her half boots, then clapped her bonnet on her head, heedless of the fact that her hair was down and her hair pins were probably scattered to the four winds. "It's dawn. We'd better go."

He glanced toward the door, saw the gray light seeping in around the edges, then let out a low curse. "Yes, we'd better."

As she pulled on her gloves, he poured the remains of the pail of water over the fire, then took his coat from the window and his surtout from the bed and donned them both.

When he came toward her with her cloak and she tried to s.n.a.t.c.h it from him, he wouldn't let her. Instead, he laid it about her shoulders and began to tie it just as she had helped him with his surtout the night before.

Seething over his superior manner and his hints about her spoiled life, she refused to look at him.

With a muttered curse, he tipped up her chin and forced her to gaze into his eyes. "I'm merely trying to make sure that you take this seriously. That you know what you're about to get if you marry me."

There it was again. If you marry me. "Oh, believe me," she snapped, "I'm beginning to realize exactly what I'm about to get."

Proud and Proper Pinter all the time. Days of being made to feel guilty about coming from a family of privilege and fortune, punctuated with a few glorious nights of lovemaking.

Tears stung her eyes, and she pulled away from him, not wanting him to notice.

As she started for the door, he caught her by the shoulder. "Let me go first. There's probably a path to the road that was used by the poachers, but we can't be sure if anyone's lying in wait for us along it, so we need to move quickly and quietly. No talking. Stay as close behind me as you can, hold onto my coat, and be prepared to run if I say. Understood?"

"Yes." She wasn't so angry at him that she would ignore the danger they might find themselves in.

He opened the door, but before walking out, he turned and took her mouth in a long, heated kiss. When he drew back, his expression was a mix of need and frustration. "I will never let anyone hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

No one but yourself, you mean, she nearly said. Instead, she nodded.

"You trust me?"

"Of course." She trusted him to keep her safe, at least.

He nodded, then headed out the door with her at his heels. True to his competence as a Bow Street Runner, within moments he found a path she would never have noticed and started them down it.

As she followed him in utter silence, she replayed their conversation. Was she wrong to be so upset? He was a practical man, after all. She should add that to the list: Practical, Proper, and Proud Pinter. Everything that she was not.

Well, perhaps she had a little of his pride. She'd certainly found plenty when he was making her sound like some lofty lady who couldn't live without "fanciful creatures of sugar paste" to decorate her birthday cake.

She might not have minded that so much if he'd said he loved her, but love still hadn't entered the conversation.

You didn't say you loved him either.

No. Even though she did. Most awfully.

She groaned. When had that happened? When he'd saved her life? Or responded to her embarra.s.sing revelations about Ned by threatening to shoot the man and then calling her a fairy queen? Or had it occurred when he was making love to her with such tenderness that she would never forget the glory of it?

Oh, it didn't matter when it had happened. She loved him. Despite his pride and his lectures and his determination to make her feel like a worthless aristocrat, she'd fallen in love with the wretched fellow.

But after everything he'd said, she'd be d.a.m.ned if she told him. If he wanted her love, he would have to make that clear. Right now, all he seemed to want was her body. And possibly her hand in marriage, though she wasn't even sure about that at the moment.

Still, last night he'd said he was hers always. If he'd meant it-and she had no reason to believe he didn't-then surely they could muddle through this together. That was close to a declaration of love, wasn't it?

It wasn't as if they'd have a choice anyway. Gran was going to make them marry.

That thought cheered her. Yes, they would have to marry. So he would just have to learn to deal with her fortune and her rank and her lack of ability to do without "silks and satins" and lace on her gowns.

And perhaps in the midst of all that, he could find a way to love her, too.

TO JACKSON'S RELIEF, they reached the road without incident. No doubt Celia's a.s.sailant had moved on once they had vanished. But that didn't mean they were out of danger-just that they were out of danger at the moment.

"Since we seem to be all right," Celia murmured as they began walking down the road, "do you think we could go back and check on Lady Bell?"

"That's unwise," Jackson said. "Whoever tried to kill you might antic.i.p.ate just such an action and even now be lying in wait for you there."

"Oh. I hadn't thought of that. And what about your horse?"

He sighed. "If no one steals him between here and London, he'll make it to Cheapside well enough."

"I hope Lady Bell survived," she said wistfully.

"As soon as we reach the estate, we'll send someone back for her, I swear." He had his doubts about whether Lady Bell had made it but didn't voice them. Celia had enough to worry about at the moment.

Like his sobering p.r.o.nouncements in the cottage. All right, so perhaps he'd done it up a bit too brown, but he wanted her going into marriage with open eyes. He wanted no recriminations when he couldn't live up to her expectations.

Yet her words stuck in his memory: I know what your point is. That you don't live as well as my family does. That being your wife will mean giving up some things. I don't care.

She said that now, but she might not feel the same later.

Have you changed your mind about marrying me?

That made him wince. He didn't want to leave her with that fear. "Celia," he murmured, "about our earlier discussion..."

"You made yourself very clear. I'm not sure there's much more to say."

"Ah, but there is." He caught her gloved hand in his. "I do mean to marry you, you know. I would never abandon you now that ... well..."

"I'm ruined?" she said dryly. "How kind of you."

"That's not what I meant, d.a.m.n it."

"Of course it is. You're an honorable man, and honorable men behave honorably when they've ruined a woman. Whether or not they want to."

That fired his temper. "Now see here, I never said I didn't want to marry you. I certainly never-" He broke off at the sound of horses on the road, then hurried her into the woods.

"What the dev-"

"Shh," he muttered, placing his fingers over her mouth. "Someone's coming."

Her eyes went wide as she glanced to the road. They both held their breaths until a lumbering wagon came into view, drawn by two cart horses and driven by a skinny farmer with a pipe clenched between his teeth and a floppy beaver hat on his graying head.

Immediately, Jackson drew her back out onto the side of the road, then left her so he could step into the path of the oncoming wagon, waving his hands.

"Whoa!" cried the man as he pulled up on the reins. As soon as the horses halted, the farmer stood up on the wagon. "Are ye mad? I could've run ye down!"

Then he caught sight of Celia and blinked. "Beg pardon, madam." He tugged at his hat brim. "I didn't see you standing there."

Jackson forced a smile, hoping to look less alarming to a stranger. "My wife and I were robbed by highwaymen last night, sir, and we could use your help."

The farmer eyed him suspiciously. "Highwaymen? On this road?"

Celia came to his side and curled her hand about his arm. "They shot my horse, and we ran into the woods to escape being shot ourselves. You didn't happen to see a dead horse as you came this way, did you?"

"No, but I heard tell of a horse found wounded in the shoulder when an early coach drove past. I believe they sent someone from town to look after it."

Celia sagged against Jackson. "Thank G.o.d."

"It's urgent that we go on to our destination," Jackson said. "If you'd be so kind as to let us ride with you as far as you're going..."

"I'm headed for the market in Ealing," the farmer said. "But I got a wagon full of apples, and there ain't no room back there for people, so-"

"There's ten pounds in it for you." Jackson drew out his purse and shook it until the coins clinked. "We ran off before the highwaymen could get it."

That changed the man's demeanor entirely. "Ten pounds will buy you a seat on the perch with me, it will," the man said cheerily. "h.e.l.l, ten pounds will buy you a seat and the apple cake me missus sent with me." He held up the pipe. "Not to mention a drag on this if you're so inclined."

Jackson fought a grimace. "Thank you, but seats on your perch will be quite enough."

It was only after they were settled next to the farmer that Jackson realized he couldn't carry on his discussion with Celia in front of the farmer who thought they were already married. That would have to wait until they were alone.

But they got no chance to be alone. When the farmer discovered that they were headed for Halstead Hall, he insisted upon bringing them through Ealing and right to the manor.

So that's how it happened that they rode up the drive to Halstead Hall midmorning with a wagon full of apples and a farmer who was eager to see, as he put it, "that place what's as big as a town."

Servants came running before they even reached the house. To Jackson's surprise, there was no sign of the Sharpe brothers, whom he'd expected to be out riding the estate looking for her.

Instead, Mrs. Plumtree herself and Mrs. Masters met them at the entrance to the manor.

"Are you married?" Mrs. Plumtree asked in a hard voice after Jackson had paid the wide-eyed farmer and sent him off happy.

"Not yet," Celia said, looking as confused as he felt.

"So you ran off to get married and then changed your mind, is that it?" Mrs. Masters asked.

"We didn't elope," Jackson said. "Someone tried to shoot Celia. We hid in the forest all night to elude them."

Mrs. Masters cried, "Good Lord!" while Mrs. Plumtree took control of the situation, hurrying them through the archway and ordering the servants to go fetch Lord Jarret and Lord Gabriel from the fields.

"Where are Oliver and Mr. Masters?" Celia asked her sister as they headed across the Crimson Courtyard.

"In London, attempting to discover what happened to Mr. Pinter," Mrs. Masters explained. "After you and I had our discussion night before last, I thought perhaps..." She cast Jackson a furtive glance. "We a.s.sumed that you had eloped."

That must have been quite the discussion. He would give anything to know what the two women had said.

Just then, Devonmont wandered out into the courtyard. "Ah, I was wondering where everyone was. Gone out shooting early, did you, Pinter?"

"Yes," Mrs. Plumtree said quickly, "Mr. Pinter was shooting, and Minerva and Celia went out to fetch him for breakfast."

"So your headache is better today, is it?" Devonmont asked Celia without a hint of suspicion.

What the b.l.o.o.d.y devil? Had none of her suitors noticed they were gone?

"Much better, thank you," Celia mumbled.

"If you're headed for breakfast, I'll join you," Devonmont said and offered Celia his arm.

"You go on," Mrs. Plumtree said quickly. "Mr. Pinter and the girls saw something suspicious on the grounds while they were out, so I need to talk to them about it a moment. They'll be in shortly."

That made Devonmont's eyes narrow, but apparently he knew better than to gainsay Mrs. Plumtree. With a shrug, he walked off toward the breakfast room.

They headed for Stoneville's study.

"What's going on, Gran?" Celia asked. "Why doesn't anyone seem to know we've been gone?"

"Don't you see, my lady?" Jackson said cynically as the truth dawned. "Your grandmother has managed to cover up our absence. She has apparently worked out a way to unruin you."

Celia glanced from him to her grandmother, incredulous. "You kept it entirely secret?"

Mrs. Plumtree shot him a dark look. "We'll discuss it once we reach a more private place, my dear."

Jackson snorted. And so began the undoing of his foolish hopes for a life with Celia. Mrs. Plumtree was determined to make sure they didn't marry. Which meant she would probably hold to her threats to cut Celia off.

d.a.m.n the woman to h.e.l.l.

Now what? Should he reveal that he'd taken Celia's innocence?

Then he really would appear the devil in sheep's clothing, out to wrangle a marriage to Celia however he could. Besides, how could he embarra.s.s her like that? She would never want her family to know what he and she had done; of that he was certain, given how she'd hidden Ned's near deflowering of her.

But neither did Jackson mean to abandon her. He was not going to behave like his father, refusing to be responsible for his actions.