or a companion, if anyone would take her, but there was one thing she was absolutely determined about, that she would never live under the control of any man, not ever, ever again. She wouldn’t be told what to do, nor how to think about herself or anything else either. From now on, she’d be free.
She clenched her fists at the thought, then loosened them again quickly as the cart lurched forward suddenly and then down, giving an ear-splitting creak as it dropped to one side so forcefully that she toppled with it, banging her head against one of the crates. For a few seconds, the world seemed to spin and blur, the whirling snowflakes above turning rainbow-coloured, before she focused again on the boy’s face peering down at her.
‘Are you all right, miss?’
Tentatively, she reached a hand to her temples. She felt slightly dazed, but otherwise unharmed. That was a relief. She wouldn’t get very far injured.
‘I think so.’ She took his proffered hand and clambered inelegantly over the front of the trap. ‘What happened?’
‘Pothole. One of the wheels has come loose from the axle.’
‘Can you fix it?’ She felt a flutter of panic at the thought of turning back.
‘Aye.’ The driver was crouched down beside the cart, examining the undercarriage. ‘We just need to get out of this hole first.’
‘Can I help?’
‘A tiny thing like you?’ He shook his head dismissively. ‘But if you want to be useful, lead the horses on a bit and hold them there.’
Violet grasped hold of the leather bridles, stifling a sense of resentment as she walked the animals on a few paces, dragging the cart back on to flat terrain. She was used to people commenting on her small size, but it wasn’t as if the driver’s lad was much bigger than her. She wasn’t completely useless, no matter what everyone around her seemed to think. There was more that she could do, she was sure of it, if only someone would give her the chance.
‘Right, then.’ The driver wiped a hand over his brow. ‘Now we just need to lift the frame and... Who’s that, then?’
Her heart almost jumped out of her chest at the words. The moorland road was rarely used these days, not since the railway had replaced the old stagecoach, and they hadn’t passed any other vehicles that morning. Not that there was any cause for alarm, surely. At this moment, Captain Amberton was most likely in pursuit of the steam train or, failing that, riding along the coast road towards Newcastle. Still...
Her nerves tightened as she peered around the edge of the trap, back along the road towards two bay-coloured horses just cresting the top of the rise behind them, one of them bearing a chestnut-haired man wrapped in a long, black greatcoat.
No! She whipped her head back again. It couldn’t be him. The riders were still too far away for her to be certain, but surely it couldn’t be. How could he possibly have found her? Even if he’d somehow discovered that she hadn’t caught the train, there was no way he could have guessed the direction in which she was travelling, never mind with whom... Was there?
‘Looks like they’re in a hurry.’ The driver stepped out into the road to hail them. ‘But maybe they’ll lend a hand.’
‘Wait!’
She tried to call out, but her voice seemed to have abandoned her, emerging as a fierce whisper rather than a call. It was too late anyway. The riders were already slowing to a halt, drawing rein just a few feet away from the trap. Quickly, she pushed her way between the two horses, glad for once of the short height that allowed her to hide more easily. With any luck they wouldn’t notice her, but even if they did, she still had her hood pulled over her hair. If she kept her head down, they wouldn’t be able to see her face, would hopefully assume she was another boy. She might still escape as long as she didn’t draw attention to herself—if it was him.
‘Might we be of assistance?’
Her heart plummeted. It was him. Captain Amberton, or her pursuer, as she now thought of him. Even after five years, there was surely no mistaking that voice, rich and deep, though without the hint of laughter that had seemed to accompany almost everything he’d said to her at the ball. It sounded positively stern now as he conversed with the driver, saying something about the wheel, although the blood was gushing so loudly in her ears that she couldn’t make out the individual words. The tension was unbearable. She peered out again, desperately hoping that her imagination was running away with her and that she’d made a mistake...
She hadn’t. She stifled a gasp. Somehow whilst he’d been just a distant idea, a reclusive villain who she hadn’t seen in five years, her plan to escape had seemed plausible, likely even. Now he was standing so close, she wondered how she could ever have thought she might fool him.
She’d forgotten how physically imposing he was, tall and broad-shouldered with an intimidating male presence she could sense even from her hiding place. He looked just as handsome as he had the first time they’d met, though his face appeared leaner and edgier, too, as if the soft angles had all been chiselled away and made more pronounced. A dark moustache and swathe of stubble gave him the rugged look of a man who didn’t care what anyone else thought of him either, a man who might plausibly do anything and could, too.
He dismounted in front of her, wincing slightly as he swung his right leg over his saddle, though by the way the muscles bunched in his jaw, she had the distinct impression he was trying not to show any pain. For a moment, he simply hovered in the air, holding himself up with his arms, before dropping to the ground with an abrupt thud. His companion dismounted at the same time, though he didn’t offer any assistance, she noticed, taking up a position to one side almost as if he were making a point of not doing so.
She held her breath as her pursuer made his way towards the cart, placing his weight on his left leg and limping with the right. Apparently his injury, whatever it was, had been even worse than the gossips had reported. After five months at home, the damage appeared to be permanent. She felt a flicker of pity, quickly repressed, though surely it was possible to pity him and still not want to marry him? After all, her objections had nothing to do with his leg.
He nodded to his companion and the pair of them braced themselves against the side of the trap, lifting it up with their bare hands.
‘Can you get the wheel back on?’ He spoke to the driver again.
‘Aye, I reckon so.’ The driver set to work at once, pushing the wheel back over the axle and hammering the pin swiftly into place before standing up again with a look of satisfaction. ‘There, that should hold for now. My thanks.’
‘You’re welcome.’ Her pursuer gestured towards the road. ‘You’re travelling up to Rosedale?’
‘Yes, sir. Supposed to be going on to Helmsley as well, though it looks like the weather’s closing in.’
Violet looked up at the sky in alarm. The boy had said they were used to driving in this weather, but there was no denying that the snow was getting heavier, gathering in piles now where before it had seemed to melt into the ground. What would that mean for her escape?
‘Then you’d better hurry.’ Her pursuer gave a curt nod. ‘I’m glad we could be of assistance.’
He turned away and she let out a sigh of relief, hardly able to believe the closeness of her escape. He was leaving! He hadn’t seen her! Even if she was going to be delayed up at Rosedale, she was
