stuffed her few belongings into the small carpetbag she had brought with her. Her hair was mussed and her sleeve torn, but she took no time to repair either, lest her one chance at getting away should change his mind and leave without her. In minutes, she was back in the foyer, just outside the door of Orencio’s library. She clutched her bag and shifted nervously from one foot to the other.
Who in the world was this new arrival and who had sent him? He knew who she was and that she came from England. At the moment she would accept help from the devil himself to get away from Orencio’s hacienda.
The man was obviously English, disturbingly handsome and well dressed. Also very, very angry. She hoped that his anger was on her behalf because he had overheard her exchange with Orencio. She shuddered to think that was his usual demeanor. Even were that so, she was going with him.
The gentleman in question stormed out of the library just then. “Come,” he snapped as he marched to the front door, opened it and threw it wide. He didn’t wait to see whether she followed, but strode right out. Laurel ran to catch up.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked breathlessly as he yanked the bag from her grasp, caught her up by the waist and deposited her upon the seat of the open carriage.
“I told you. To the coast. Then on to England.” He tossed in her bag and climbed up to sit beside her. With a click of his tongue and slap of the reins, they were off.
“Please explain!” Laurel demanded, almost as frightened of him as of Orencio, whom she had been fending off successfully for over a week. “How do you know me?”
He passed the reins to one hand and with the other took a letter from inside his coat. “Read it.”
She broke open the seal and read the contents. It was from Mr. Hobson, the solicitor in London who had been sending money on behalf of her father all these years. He had visited her twice to ascertain her health and progress at school. Never once had he mentioned her returning to England. Until now.
“This says you are Jackson Worth, Earl of Elderidge!” She stared at him. “An earl?”
“Aye.” He visibly drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. “I apologize for my gruffness. In fact, I apologize for the entire male gender. You must be horribly overset and I’ve only added to your misery.”
Laurel refolded the letter and held it crumpled in both hands. “At the moment, more stunned than overset, sir…my lord.”
“Jack will do,” he replied, calmer now but still terse.
“Mr. Hobson writes that you are my father’s heir. No one ever told me that he was a noble!” So she was baseborn, after all. A bastard and a mistake. For years, she had suspected as much. Why else would a father want his child so completely out of sight and out of mind. Well, not completely out of mind, she supposed. At least he had provided support until she was grown. That was something.
“Why did you come for me? I mean, you in particular. The task is a bit above your station, I should think.” She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and brushed another off her brow as she spoke, suddenly embarrassed for anyone to see her in such disarray.
He glanced at her then, a quick taking of her measure, she thought. Then he looked back at the road they traveled.
“I came because we are kin,” he explained. “I am your cousin. Had I known of you earlier, I would have come sooner. It was almost not soon enough, was it? I should have shot that wretch like I threatened.” He snapped the reins again.
Her cousin. She simply stared, fully taking in his sun-browned visage, wide-shouldered frame and the fine cut of his clothes. Travel dust did nothing to detract from his roguish appeal, and doubtless he knew it well.
He looked down at her travel bag and back at her. “You packed fast or perhaps had already packed before I arrived. So you were planning to leave. Where were you going?”
She didn’t bother to correct his assumption. “To the convent, where else?”
“You didn’t mean to take vows or you’d never have left in the first place.”
His presumption irritated her, as did the flutter in her stomach that his very appearance caused. She pressed a hand over her middle and inhaled to steady her nerves. “I had very little choice of destinations.”
“No matter, a different life awaits you now,” he said with a smile in his voice if not yet on his face. “I know you were not aware your father was of the nobility,” he stated. “No one at the convent was apprised of the fact, so I’m told. A shock for you, I daresay.”
She nodded and took another deep breath that caught in her throat. There were too many questions flying through her mind to get them in order.
“We need to reach the coast before dark,” he declared. With that, he snapped the reins more harshly, urging the sturdy roan to an even faster gait.
They were well down the road before her wits returned enough to realize that a total stranger, this incredibly handsome rogue, had her at his mercy. What if that letter were false? She had never met an earl, of course, but always imagined nobles having a more stately look and pleasant attitude.
Yet she had only three choices as she saw it. She could demand to be let down or returned to Orencio’s house, beg this fellow to take her straight to the convent or go with him and see what happened next. The convent would be the safest choice, but she could not bring herself to ask for it after going to such lengths to escape it. Going back to Orencio was out of the question.
“This is good of you, but I still do not understand why you would go to so much bother for a bastard cousin.”
“Bastard?” he asked with a short, mirthless laugh. “My lady, you are as legitimate as I. Whatever gave you the idea you aren’t?”
“Perhaps the fact that I was sent to a foreign country to spend my life with nuns?”
He shrugged. “Oh, well, there is that.” And he offered no explanation for it. Perhaps he did not know why, either. But wouldn’t he have had the truth of it from her father if he was the heir? This made very little sense and did nothing to ease her mind about him.
If this Jackson “Jack” Worth, supposed earl, had designs on her person, then so did Señor Orencio. If she was to be ruined by one or the other, she found she preferred the stranger. Maybe she would even prefer that fate to being immured in a nunnery for the remainder of her life. That required a divine calling and ought not to be undertaken simply for the sake of security.
As if he read her very thoughts, he turned to her, his stern and angry expression softened, now sympathetic and very serious. “You needn’t fear, my lady. I swear you will come to no harm, And I will see you safe to London, to your new home.”
Caught by the steady blue gaze and held like a rabbit in a snare, Laurel Could only nod. Why not trust him? She had nothing to lose if he was lying, aside from her virtue. That had done her little good thus far. And she had much to gain if he was telling the truth.
My lady, he had called her. Daughter of an earl. Legitimate, he had said. Could it really be true that she was born of nobility? If so, why was she never told of her circumstance before today?
“Have I other family?” she
