a look at that grove to our left. See if there is room to get the carriage out of sight.”
“Aye, sir.” The big man climbed down and ambled cautiously into the trees. After several minutes he returned. “It’ll be tight, me lord, but I think we can make her fit. Ain’t no one going to see us in this light.” They pulled the coach into the trees, turned it so that it could be driven straight out, and doused the lamps.
And then they sat.
And they waited.
The night wind murmured in the trees and somewhere an abbreviated screech and a triumphant “Who-hoo!” announced that a tiny life had ended as an owl’s dinner. Only the faintest starlight illuminated the road. Vincent sat patiently. They would come. He need only await them. And then, between one breath and the next, in the distance hoofbeats sounded. Quickly he went to the horses’ heads to keep them quiet.
Minutes later a coach and four barreled past them. It did not even slow at the fork, but continued up the main pike, away from Ashwell. When the sounds of its passage died, Vincent climbed back up and nodded at Throckmorton.
“There’s an inn at Ashwell. We’ll put up there.”
Throckmorton snapped his whip and they headed down the smaller lane.
They pulled into the inn yard shortly before dawn sent her delicate fingers of color across the sky. Stiff from inactivity and sore from yesterday’s tussle with the kidnappers, Diana all but fell out of the coach into Vincent’s arms. He caught her and righted her, still holding her close and gazing into her face with disconcerting intensity.
“Can you stand?” He kept a cautious hand on her elbow as she backed away from him, flustered by his scrutiny.
Diana took a brace of steps, first one way and then the other. “Yes, I believe so. I was just made a bit awkward by the inactivity.”
“And fatigue, I don’t doubt. But you can rest soon.”
From inside the coach, the children grumbled irritably at being disturbed. Diana smiled. “Alas, my lord, your inexperience with small children is evident. They tend to be early risers, and these two have been asleep all night.”
“That is why inns keep maids. We will make use of them.” Vincent lifted a groggy Selena out and set her on her feet, then reached back for Bytham.
“But—”
He cut off Diana’s protest at the outset. “Either Throckmorton or I will keep watch. We intend to take turns sleeping.” He gave her another appraising stare. “You cannot watch them day in, day out, Diana.”
“I know.” Suddenly the black well of exhaustion and fear threatened to swallow her. “I… I…” She gave it up. “Thank you, my lord.”
They entered the inn to find its inhabitants already astir. The short, portly landlord and his tall, sturdy wife came bustling to meet them, only to stop short when they saw Vincent. The wife turned in her tracks and, signaling to a wide-eyed maid who had emerged from the kitchen, disappeared with the girl into the rear of the inn. The landlord held his ground, but eyed Vincent and Throckmorton warily.
“Good morning, Biggleswade. I trust I find you well?” Vincent nodded politely.
“Ah…” The landlord made his bow, one eye on Vincent and one on Diana. “Yes, m’lord. I enjoy tolerable health. And your lordship?”
“Very well, thank you. I believe it has been several years since I stayed here.”
Biggleswade’s expression indicated that it might suit him better for it to be a bit longer yet, but he answered courteously enough. “How may I serve your lordship today?”
“As you can see, we have been traveling all night. We require a parlor and adjoining rooms for the lady and the children and another room for me close by. Can you oblige me?”
“I… Yes, m’lord. We have the rooms.” He cast a suspicious stare at Throckmorton’s battered face. “And your…uh…?”
“He and I will make use of the same room.” Vincent turned to Diana. “Would you like a tray brought to your room?” Without waiting for her nod he went on, “And we will need a maid to care for the children while the lady sleeps.”
“Aye, m’lord.” The landlord glanced around for his wife. Finding that she had decamped, he bowed and started to follow.
“And, Biggleswade…” Vincent spoke softly, but the man spun around with a start. “I would prefer that no questions be answered about our sojourn here, should anyone ask.”
“Oh! Oh…aye, sir. Of course.”
A few moments later Mrs. Biggleswade reappeared and, with a surly look at Vincent, invited Diana up the stairs. Now what was this all about? Diana glanced at Vincent but his somber countenance revealed nothing. She followed the woman up to an adequately furnished parlor and collapsed into a chintz-covered sofa.
By now the children were wide awake and wanting to explore their new surroundings. As she considered the futility of sending them back to bed, a light tap sounded at the door and a girl appeared bearing a tray with tea, hot bread and butter and milk. It smelled heavenly. Diana had not realized how hungry she had become. Anxiety had left her hardly able to eat a bite the evening before.
The children quickly converged on the table as the young woman set down the tray, and the maid and the innkeeper’s wife helped them into chairs. Diana took her own place gratefully and, in a very short time, served by the ladies of the inn, they emptied the plates.
As she finished her second cup of tea, another tap sounded on the door and Vincent strolled into the parlor. His rumpled black locks lacked their usual neatness and a dark shadow covered his cheeks and chin. He had discarded his neckcloth and coat, but in spite of his disheveled appearance, Diana’s breath caught in her throat.
Or perhaps because of it. The loosened collar showed the sculptured lines of his throat, and his rolled sleeves revealed his forearms lined with veins across the ridges of muscle. How had she never noticed in months past that he was an attractive man? Had she been that caught up in her own problems?
Apparently so.
The innkeeper’s wife scowled, folded her arms across her ample bosom and stepped in front of the young maid, who eyed Vincent warily. He ignored her and addressed Diana. “Are you ready to rest? If this young lady—” he nodded at the maid “—will take the children for a walk, I will accompany them.”
The landlady bristled. “Abby has plenty of work to do and don’t need to be traipsing off with you. If you need help, I’ll watch the little ones.”
Vincent bowed gravely. “Thank you, Mrs. Biggleswade. I would appreciate your time.”
Mrs. Biggleswade nodded, the suspicion in her eyes increasing as she glared at Diana’s injured cheek. Selena and Bytham jumped down from their chairs and—as soon as Diana had reminded them—expressed thanks for the breakfast. They followed Vincent and Mrs. Biggleswade out of the room, Diana’s anxious gaze trailing after them.
Surely they would be safe with Vincent. Hadn’t he, himself, stopped the kidnapping? Surely that meant… But Diana knew she didn’t
