closed his eyes.
“That’s half the lawyers at the Inns of Court.”
“Then choose one of those.” Benjamin’s smile split across the sides of his face, half warm, half terrifying. “We need one especially good at breaking wills.”
Chapter Seven
Jeffreys led Adam to the estate study and shut the door tight behind them.
The room was filled with trunks, all labeled Somerville. Adam could easily imagine their contents—he had three sisters, after all. But his sisters were not aristocrats, and, even combined, their trousseaus wouldn’t fill so many. The trunks were a striking reminder of what he’d never been able to forget: the great chasm between his place in society and Emmeline’s.
Queen Bess lay before the fire, her head resting on an overstuffed valise, her paws crossed regally before her. Her damaged leg—saved, he’d heard, by Lady Lucy’s skill at sewing up wounds—seemed mostly healed. The fur almost covered the long scar from her knee to her ankle. Beside her sat an old-fashioned leather pack.
“Ah, Mr. Montclair.” Jeffreys gestured to the leather pack. “It seemed reasonable that an old soldier would carry an old pack.”
“It depends.” Adam stared at the bag. “What war is it from?”
“I believe Queen Anne’s.”
Adam laughed.
Jeffreys didn’t.
Adam leaned over to scratch Bess’s head. The dog wriggled happily, moving Adam’s hand down her neck, between her shoulders, down her back, and then, with a giant twist, across to her belly. It was like trying to catch the rainbow’s end: his destination was always just a bit farther on. He patted Bess’s head in parting, and she lay back down next to the valise.
He picked up the pack, surprised at its weight, and slung it over his shoulder, settling it into a position familiar from the wars. “What’s in this? Lead?”
“I included some items of importance to Lady Emmeline.” Jeffreys unlocked a cabinet. “As for her luggage, she will need to be gone for some time. Lord Colin would return in an instant if he hears she has come home.”
Luggage? Somehow Adam had imagined a quick run across country, horses changed at every post station, racing in a single direction only to turn and race in another. That plan allowed no place for luggage.
Suddenly he realized how difficult the task the duke had set him would be. The duke expected him to escort Emmeline on an extended trip to nowhere in particular. Even his sisters with their limited wardrobes would need a great deal for such a trip. They would need luggage. Luggage meant a coach, coachmen, postboys, and a lady’s maid or two. Then their caravan would lurch across the countryside, until Lord Colin caught up with them . . . on foot.
He rubbed his temple. They would be following no timetable. They merely needed not to be found. But where to go?
The plan grew more complicated with each conversation.
“If her ladyship owns a carriage without any estate markings, I suppose we could carry luggage,” Adam conceded.
Outside the window, in the chapel yard, the guests moved en masse toward the dining hall. Though the day was bright, the guests still hugged their coats tightly around their bodies. But Emmeline, waiting for him in the forest, had no shelter. He needed to move her to a safe, warm spot, and soon. At least he’d made sure that she had a heavy wrap.
Once the guests were in the dining hall, he could slip away.
“Many of the guests will be leaving tomorrow between eight and ten” Jeffreys removed a heavy bag from the cabinet. “By noon, the roads should be clear of them.”
“What of the duke and his party?”
“He rises early.” Jeffreys set the bag on the desk between them. “We anticipate he and his family will be gone by sunrise. Lady Fairbourne has already returned to the duke’s London house with Lord Walgrave.”
Adam noted the information. If only he’d fallen in love with Lady Fairbourne when her aunt encouraged him to do so, Em and Lord Colin would have happily married. The thought made him shudder. He’d objected to the alliance with Lady Fairbourne on the same grounds that he objected to one with Em: they came from different classes and different worlds.
“After the duke’s party leaves, we could remove a coach from the carriage yard.”
“Her ladyship will prefer to ride.” Jeffreys motioned at the valise. “There’s enough coin here to purchase whatever you may need on the road.”
Adam raised an eyebrow, having just been convinced to take a carriage. “We can hardly risk someone seeing her or her horse. No, a carriage will be best, and, as you suggested, it allows her to take a trunk or two . . . and Bess.”
Jeffreys raised an eyebrow, but looking at Bess, he nodded. “Lady Emmeline won’t like being away from Bess for too long.”
All the guests were in the dining hall, their conversation a low hum. Below, near the stables, two stableboys unloaded bags of grain. The estate was returning to its normal rhythm, even before the wedding guests were gone. Suddenly he realized how he could spirit Emmeline and her luggage away.
“Jeffreys, I know how we can make this work.”
Chapter Eight
Emmeline was cold and tired of waiting. She’d walked a dozen slow circles around the altar stone, and she’d examined the oak’s giant trunk in careful detail. She’d even amused herself by singing the tune that her mother claimed called the faeries into the human world.
Neither faeries nor Adam appeared.
She started another circle. At the house, she’d thought only of escape, to go somewhere, anywhere that would keep her from marrying a man she loved both too much and not enough.
For the last hour, she’d considered where she might go. Until Colin had brought up a wedding trip, she’d never thought of herself as a traveler, despite all the books she’d read of other places and peoples. For years after the accident she’d refused to travel in any carriage, and later, she would only travel distances that allowed her to go and return before nightfall. Broad daylight or ride horseback—that’s what she needed to avoid the nightmares, though with Bess beside her she recovered more quickly.
Colin, knowing her fears and knowing she’d left Bess behind, would feel compelled to try to find her. That would require hiding—at least until his men, or the duke’s, grew careless. That would add weeks, perhaps months, to her journey. The thought of being away from her estate for so long made her queasy. She breathed in deeply, hoping to settle the tension in her stomach.
Would Adam even agree to so long a journey?
She could travel to her father, as she and Colin had planned. But without Colin to urge her on, she was strangely reticent to do so. She had only two memories of her father. In one, he picked her up and swung her round and round giggling, until she was dizzy with excitement. In the other, he stood, weeping, beside her bed after the accident, repeating the
