face was obscured by the hood of the cloak, and Tanner missed watching the play of emotions on her face. He’d seen her angry, earnest, frightened and relieved. He would enjoy hearing her laugh, or seeing passion light her face.
He also wished to discover her real name and the names of the people from whom she had supposedly stolen jewels. If she confided in him, he could help her. Even if she was guilty of the theft, he could make her troubles disappear. Money, power and influence overcame justice most of the time. If he repaid the son for the jewels, he’d wager the theft would be totally forgiven.
Tanner could not gaze at her without being obvious, so he settled for the warmth of the sun on his face, the scent of the fresh sea air and fragrant fields, and the sight of the peaceful countryside. It was not precisely an Arcadian paradise, not with men toiling in the fields and cottages too small for comfort, but it was solid and timeless and vastly preferable to the cold, fickle sea.
As the sun grew higher in the sky, they passed a windmill spinning in the breeze, and a standing stone placed there by Celtic people long erased from history. Tanner guessed the time to be about noon. He dug his fingers into his pocket for his timepiece. It was no longer there.
His head whipped around to the old farmer driving the cart. The old man had gone through his pockets, he’d wager. “I wonder what time it is,” he said.
The old man’s jaw flexed.
Tanner coughed and winced as the pain in his ribs kicked at him again. Miss Brown looked over at him with concern in her eyes. He returned a reassuring smile, before glancing back to the old farmer.
He ought to deprive the man of the sovereign he’d promised, glad he’d had the presence of mind to hang on to his purse after he’d peeled every piece of wet clothing off his body, making a sopping pile on the cottage floor. Miss Brown had been shivering so violently, Tanner had been desperate to make her warm.
Mr Davies flicked the ribbons and glanced at Tanner nervously, fearful, no doubt, that Tanner would challenge him on the theft of his timepiece.
Tanner glanced back to the road. Let the man keep the watch, he said to himself. As payment for his bed. Tanner would have given the man anything for that warm bed. For her. To save her from the killing cold as he had saved her from the killing sea.
Two slow hours passed and Tanner suspected they could have walked faster than the old horse moved on the muddy road. Finally rooftops and a church bell tower came into view.
“Cemaes,” said the old man, lifting his chin towards the town.
Miss Brown leaned forward. What was she thinking? Tanner wondered. What plan was she making for herself?
They came to the first houses, gleaming white, edged with chrysanthemums and marigolds. Up ahead the buildings became thicker and Tanner could see people walking about.
Miss Brown put her hand on Tanner’s arm. “May we stop here?” She gave him that earnest look again.
He drank it in for a moment, then turned to the old man. “Mr Davies, you may leave us off here.”
The old man’s bushy brows shot up. “It is no distance to the inn.”
“Good!” Tanner responded in a jovial voice. “Then it shall be only a short walk for us. Stop, if you please.”
The farmer shrugged and pulled on the ribbons, halting his horse. Tanner climbed down and reached up for Miss Brown. Putting his hands on her waist, he lifted her down to the road and was reluctant to let go of her. He fished in his pocket for the sovereign and handed it up to Mr Davies, who grabbed it quickly, as if fearing Tanner would change his mind. Without a word of farewell, the man flicked the ribbons again, and the old horse clopped its way into town, to the inn and some refreshment for them both, Tanner suspected.
“You gave him a sovereign.” Miss Brown said in a disapproving tone.
Tanner kicked a pebble into the street. “Yes.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Too much?”
“I dare say,” she responded. “Half that amount would have been generous.”
He tilted his head, somewhat chagrined. “Especially since the man also stole my watch and I highly suspect his son was the man you hit over the head.”
Her jaw dropped. “Tell me it is not so.” Outrage filled her face. “How shabby of them to take such advantage.”
This was an odd reaction for a supposed thief, Tanner thought. “Well, it is done…” He glanced around him, at the cobblestones in the street, at the tidy houses. “Why did you wish to be let off here?”
The sun illuminated her features and made her eyes sparkle like sapphires. He felt momentarily deprived of breath.
“I wanted a chance to talk with you.” She gazed at him intently. “To prepare.”
It took a moment for him to respond. “Prepare for what?”
She frowned in concentration. “I cannot enter that inn saying I am Miss Brown off the shipwrecked packet from Dublin, the prisoner escorted by a Bow Street Runner. I must think of some fiction to tell them.”
Tanner nodded. He’d not thought much beyond being rid of Mr Davies and finding an inn with good food and a comfortable bed, but, then, he was not much accustomed to thinking ahead while travelling. The next meal, the next bed and the final destination were all he considered, and half the time they were arranged by his valet or his secretary.
She went on. “And I cannot walk in as the companion of the Marquess of Tannerton.”
He felt a bit like a rejected suitor. “Would that be too scandalous?”
“It would be too foolish.” Her expression turned patient, as if speaking to a dull child. “The Marquess of Tannerton is sure to create a great deal of interest, especially if the marquess almost drowned. If I am seen with you, I will become an object of curiosity as well, and that I cannot have. I must slip away without anyone noticing me.”
This woman must never look at herself in a mirror, Tanner thought. Surely she could not go anywhere and not be noticed.
“I see.” He nodded, trying not to be distracted by his vision of her. “What do you propose?”
Her expression gave the impression of a mind turning like the intricate gears of his stolen watch. The road forked a few paces away and led to a stone bridge over a stream. She gestured for him to walk with her. They strolled to the bridge, where they stood side by side, leaning on the wall, gazing into the stream, swollen and brown from the previous day’s storm.
She turned to him. “I—I must be on my way. The sooner I leave Anglesey, the sooner I will be forgotten. I want it thought that I drowned in the shipwreck. If they think me dead, no one will search for me.”
Tanner disliked hearing her speak of being “on her way.”
“Where will you go?” he asked. “Scotland is a big place.”
She searched his face for a moment before turning her gaze away. “It is best for me
