His smile faded. ‘I may have been a trifle disguised,’ he conceded, ‘but my senses were working fine. You’re a very beautiful young woman, Amelie, but too spirited by far. As a maidservant, you’re in need of some schooling.’
She ignored the implied threat. ‘How dare you make me out to be a thief? Every feeling is offended.’
‘Who’s to say you’re not a thief? You’ve behaved most suspiciously.’
She stood erect and looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘I have never stolen in my life and I have never seen those articles you tipped out of my cloak bag.’
‘No, of course you haven’t,’ he agreed amiably. ‘The watch and tiepin are mine and the brooch is one that belonged to my mother and that happened to be in my pocket.’
She gaped at him. ‘Then why did you make up such a wicked story?’
‘To get you off the coach, of course,’ he replied blandly. ‘What else? I could hardly hold the stage up and request you to dismount. You would have refused and your fellow passengers would have supported you, but thinking you might be a thief, they just wanted to get on their way.’
‘You are insufferable. You’ve stranded me in the middle of nowhere because I didn’t keep some shameful bargain. Rest assured that I still won’t be keeping it.’
‘Now that’s where we might disagree.’ His tone was unyielding. ‘After all, what else can you do? As you so rightly point out, you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere, and the only possible transport looks to be that horse over there, and that horse belongs to me. So I think perhaps you might be persuaded to keep your bargain after all.’
‘Then you think wrongly. I would rather walk for the rest of the day than be anywhere near you.’ With that, she stuffed her few belongings back into her bag and began marching rapidly along the road.
‘It’s at least six miles to the nearest village,’ he called after her.
‘Then I’ll walk six miles,’ she responded angrily.
He swung himself into the saddle and sidled his horse up to her. ‘I always get my way, you know. You might as well give in gracefully and enjoy our splendid isolation together. The shoes you’re wearing hardly seem to be made for rural walking.’ The steel had given way to wry mockery.
She looked down at the dainty pumps she still wore, annoyed that she’d not thought to change them for some of Fanny’s much stouter shoes. With compressed lips, she marched onwards, Gareth Wendover walking his horse just a pace behind. We must look like a carnival show, she reflected bitterly.
‘Come, Amelie, this is stupid. Get up on the horse and I’ll engage to take you to the nearest inn.’
‘Thank you, sir, but your offer is declined. I’m well aware of my likely fate there. I’ve had experience of what you consider fitting conduct for an inn.’
‘You’re an obstinate young woman, but I shall win. You might as well resign yourself to accompanying me and be saved a good deal of discomfort.’
His manner was relaxed and he seemed to have all the time in the world, confident that she would eventually capitulate. Her feet were already pinching badly and she knew that the soles of her shoes would hardly stand up to six miles of rough road, but her anger drove her on. The earlier vision of his smile and the remembered pleasure of his embrace had evaporated without trace. He was a persecutor, there was no doubt. He was as bad in his own way as Rufus Glyde and, just as she’d defeated Glyde, she would defeat him, too.
Still incensed, she trudged on and now both were silent. Gareth saved his breath. He could see it was pointless trying to persuade her otherwise. He’d been seized by fury when he discovered she’d disappeared without a word and had made a snap decision to go after her and wreak his revenge. It was a stupid thing to do, but he was unused to a female besting him. From the moment he’d met her, he’d behaved irrationally; she’d somehow got under his skin and it was a new sensation. Women were for dalliance, passing fancies to be enjoyed lightly before moving on. They were not to be taken seriously. Now he was landed with this ridiculous situation.
He was willing to concede that she had cause to be angry. He’d behaved badly, but her conduct was hardly blameless. She’d been lying to him ever since they met, he was certain. And she’d made use of him when it suited her. He would show her that no one, least of all a chit of a girl, treated him in that way and emerged unscathed. Let her walk off her temper and destroy her shoes. She would be all the more acquiescent when he made his next move.
Musing in this way, he was unaware of the sounds of an approaching coach. Amelie, far more alert, heard in the distance the clatter of wheels before a curricle and four swept round the corner at breakneck speed. She had a terrifying vision of four magnificent greys thundering down on her before she made a dive for cover. Lost in his thoughts, Gareth could only take avoiding action when it was too late. His startled mount reared into the air, and he was flung over the horse’s head, landing heavily in the ditch. The curricle swept by, its driver, clad in a caped overcoat, according them not a glance.
Cowering in the shelter of the grassy bank, Amelie thought she spied a crest on the side of the coach panel. Surely it could not be Rufus Glyde. But she knew that it was. She was all too familiar with that crest. Her flight must have been discovered earlier than she’d hoped and he’d been sent for, or most probably had taken it on himself to hunt her down. Fanny would never have given her away; her father must have guessed that she’d fled to Bath and her grandmother. Terrified that Glyde might turn the coach and come back to inspect his handiwork, she remained in hiding. There she stayed silent and unmoving for a long time before finding the courage to crawl up the bank to the roadside.
Gareth Wendover was nowhere to be seen. His mount was once more quietly cropping the grass, but there was no sign of the master. A perfect opportunity to escape. The horse was close by and looked biddable. If she led him to the nearest field gate she could manage to clamber into the saddle, then ride to Wroxall, and from there catch the next stagecoach westwards wherever it was going. The sooner she was out of this part of the country, the better. She knew Glyde was not travelling here for his own enjoyment. He was searching for her and he would be back.
A groan sounded from the ditch a few yards away. Tiptoeing to the grass edge, she peered downwards. Gareth was lying on his back, but his foot was at a sickening angle. He had his eyes closed and his face was ashen.
‘Are you all right?’ She knew it to be an ill-advised question even as she asked.
He opened his eyes and looked directly up into hers. ‘Does it look like it? No, I’m not all right, but it’s hardly your problem.’
‘What’s happened to your foot?’
‘It appears I may have broken my ankle—I’m not sure. In any case, I can’t move more than a few inches. There’s no way I’ll be able to walk on it.’
She remained silent and he rasped out, ‘Don’t mind me, rejoice all you wish. You’re free to go now. Take the horse and make your escape while you can.’
‘But what will you do?’
‘Do you really care? I can’t imagine so. I shall stay here—I don’t have much choice. Someone will come by sooner or later.’
‘Let me try to help you up.’ She half clambered down the ditch and put her hand under the shoulder that was nearest. At the same time he tried to raise himself to a standing position with his other hand, but the effort was too great. His face turned even whiter.
‘I can’t do it,’ he said, sinking back onto the damp bed of grass once more, ‘but thank you for trying. I probably don’t deserve your help.’
‘No, you don’t,’ she said shortly, ‘and this could be just punishment for your behaviour.’