“You said Faye would not tell him.” Tom stood beside his horse, arms crossed over his chest.
“I said Faye was not likely to say anything.” She wasn’t at all sure Faye would keep the information to herself, which was why she’d made a point to leave the message where it wouldn’t be delivered before the morning. Faye wouldn’t wait up for her and Nurse believed she slept beside Faye. By the time the keep rose to break its fast, however, and she was still nowhere to be found, questions would be asked. Her story about the convent would buy her a little more time. By then she planned to be well on her way. If Tom would just get on his horse.
He had picked the calmest horse in the stable. Old Parsley would trudge along happily as long as you fed him and didn’t ask him to do anything too onerous. Besides, Parsley was in love with her mare, Breeze. Where Breeze put her dainty hooves, Parsley was sure to come crashing after.
“You left the message I told you to leave?”
“I said what you told me to say.” Mostly. “As we discussed.”
Finally, Tom mounted. He took up the reins to the third horse. Badger jerked his head and blew hard. Tom clucked and the gelding reluctantly shambled forward.
Beatrice nudged Breeze into a walk. Tom’s constant carping threatened to snuff her spark of adventure. Still, that was Tom for you. He had his uses like procuring food, human and animal, and other bits and pieces necessary for the journey. His thought to bring sleeping blankets was inspired.
They crossed the meadow and wended through the towering beech trees toward the village. The moist ground muffled the horse’s hoof falls in the still night.
Faye mightn’t tell Henry. And if Faye did tell him, Beatrice doubted Henry would do anything about her absence.
An owl hooted. Badger shied and Tom soothed him.
If it were Roger, no threat on earth would’ve moved her to leave a note. Roger would’ve been on his destrier in hot pursuit before he’d reached the end of the message. It was fortunate Roger remained in London. Or mayhap, not. Roger would not be dithering like Henry, in the family’s darkest hour.
She missed her oldest brother. He was her favorite, with his quick temper and quicker sense of humor. Roger came closest to understanding her within the family. Not all the time, but enough to keep her feeling like less of a cuckoo in the nest.
All that would change after she reached her father in London. Her family might be angry with her for taking such a risk. Roger would definitely thunder and rant, but all would be forgiven when her purpose became clear.
Breeze cleared the trees and took the gentle descent to the village. Fishing nets, strung between stakes to dry like giant spiderwebs, glittered in the moonlight. Warm yellow light spilled from casements onto the green.
She pulled Breeze to a stop. “I will have to go alone.”
Tom reined Parsley in beside her. Badger pulled at the bit before he settled. “Why?”
“Because, we do not want everyone to know what we are doing, or someone will tell Henry for sure. Then where will we be?” Must she explain everything?
“Tucked up safe in our beds, where we should be.” Tom hunched in his saddle. “I am beginning to think we should stop this before we travel any farther.”
“We cannot, Tom.” Beatrice’s heart missed a beat. “You said you would help me.”
“Aye.” Tom rubbed the back of his neck. “But that was foolish on my part.”
“Are you going to keep whining the same old tune all the way to London?” Tom was so blasted stubborn.
“I am not whining. Bea, will you listen to sense before you get us both mired in something we’ll regret.” Badger stamped and Tom tightened his lead rein.
“Well, I shall not regret it.” If Tom didn’t want to help her, he could go cringing back to Anglesea. “Go back, if you like, but I am going to get the man we need.” Tom would make a raw spot if he kept rubbing at his neck. “Come now, Tom. Think of this as a grand adventure. We used to talk of them all the time when we were younger.”
“You spoke of grand adventure.” Tom jabbed his thumb into his chest. “I wanted a farm. I still want a farm.”
“Of course you do.” Beatrice leaned across and patted his knee. “And think how grateful my father will be you helped save the family from certain ruin.”
“Sir Arthur will skin my hide for letting you do this.”
“Nay, he will not. He may skin my hide, but you will receive his gratitude. Not only did you help save the family, but you remained steadfastly by my side to protect me.” She stroked Breeze’s neck. “And if it comes to that, I shall take full blame. My father will have no trouble believing as much.”
Tom grunted. He tapped his fingers against his thigh.
“Besides,” Beatrice said, “if we go back now, there will be a huge furor. My mother will hear of it, for certain, and you know she is not to be worried.”
“Have you not thought this start of yours may well scare her half to death?”
Beatrice’s stomach tightened. She’d steadfastly avoided thinking what would happen if Lady Mary discovered where she’d gone. Beatrice shoved the concern aside. When she brought her father home, her mother would improve. “Nobody will tell her. I stressed that in my message to Faye. Mother is not to be caused any undue worry.”
She trotted forward.
Tom stayed.
Beatrice halted Breeze and turned. “Come along.”
He was at his neck again. “Beatrice, we should turn back.”
Why had she ever thought to involve him? He was ruining everything.
“I am not turning back, Tom. I will find Garrett and he will lead me to London. You”—she glared over her shoulder—“can do as you please. But if you betray me, I will never, ever, ever forgive you. Now, run along, Tom.” She flung one hand toward Anglesea. “Run back to your mother and carry tales with you. Perhaps she will let you hide beneath her skirts.”
“That is not fair.”
Beatrice kept her eyes on the bright moonlight showing the path. Her decision was made. Beatrice the Brave wouldn’t be craven and hide when duty called.
“And that is another thing bothering me about this,” Tom called after her. “Who is this Garrett? I know no one by that name.”
Beatrice let Breeze pick her way down the path. The soil beneath the horse’s hooves was sandy and their pace slowed. She was done with Tom and his questions. She would find Garrett. Her heart gave a happy thump. He would be surprised to see her. Her own boldness thrilled her. How would Garrett react? Would he try to steal a kiss?
Tom’s cursing interrupted her fantasy as he lumbered along in her wake.
There would be no kissing with Tom lurking about and muttering his disapproval.
Chapter 8
“Garrett.”
Her voice woke him instantly.
“Garrett.” Beatrice called louder this time.
Beside him, Lilly stirred. He put his hand on her shoulder to hush her.
Lilly stilled.
Beatrice called again, growing more insistent.
“Jesu.” Beatrice stood right outside his hut. He shook Lilly hard enough to wake her.
She opened her eyes and grinned at him. “You are a lusty one.” Lilly caressed him beneath the bedding.
Garrett caught her hand and pushed it aside. “You have