“Move aside, sir! What are you about?”
A muffled reply came, but the voice was familiar enough to make Lavinia suck in a breath. She glanced around the carriage to see if the others had realized just what was going on.
They hadn’t. Lady Brennon was now wailing about being murdered and nobody ever finding their bodies – a change from her earlier fears, where their half-naked bodies would be deposited in a ditch besides the road – and she was clutching Gillian to her as if trying to protect her. Lavinia noticed with a wry smile that her mother did not seem to be particularly worried abouther.
Lord Brennon looked a little less apprehensive. Apparently, he thought that footpads on a main road in Bath, in the middle of the day, was somewhat unlikely. He was shouting up to the coachman, and between the three of them, nobody was listening to Lavinia.
Biting back a curse of annoyance, she tried to peer out of the carriage, trying to get a glimpse of the horseman on the road, to confirm what she already knew.
It was no good. With a sigh of resignation, Lavinia unlatched the door and flung it open wide. Lady Brennon gave a shriek, and even Lord Brennon loudly demanded to know what Lavinia thought she was about to do.
She ignored them all.
The steps had not been put down, of course, leaving Lavinia to jump down the three feet to the ground. She landed nimbly, and turned back to close the door behind her, shutting off her view of her family’s horrified and confused faces.
It was much quieter out here, away from the panicked chatter. She heard the coachman speak again.
“Get out of the way, sir. I won’t tell you again.”
“I can’t,” came the cool, clear, familiar voice. “I must speak to her.”
Lavinia walked around to the front of the carriage.
“And here I am,” she said, meeting his eye. “What do you want to say to me?”
Chapter Twenty-Five
William felt vaguely sick. He was sure that if he had anything for breakfast, he would likely have brought it up by now.
Riding the stallion was not at all like riding the mild-mannered Cinnamon. He had watched one of the grooms saddle up the horse, who watched him closely but made no move to bite or kick.
Perhaps it was just my father he wanted to bite and kick. I cannot say I blame him.
He hauled himself up into the saddle before he could think twice.
Pretend it is only Cinnamon. Just sweet, mild Cinnamon. Just Cin…
At that moment, the stallion lurched forward. He did not bother with a walk, or even a trot. He broke out into a gallop, leaving William with no time to cry out or do anything at all besides clutch onto the reins and lean forward.
He could hear various shouts coming from behind him. There was panicked yelling from the butler, and slightly more encouraging noises from the grooms. He wanted to turn around and look, but that seemed like a poor idea.
The stallion had galloped without slowing, heading down the correct road at just the tiniest touch of the reins. William forced himself to breathe, careful not to grip too hard with his legs in case the horse should imagine that he wanted it to go faster.
The scenery flew by, the road blurring underneath, and William gritted his teeth and held on.
It felt only minutes later that he saw the carriage. They had already almost passed it by the time he managed to tug on the reins, willing the stallion to slow down.
The horse skidded to a halt, its rump going down, and William managed to turn it around and face it towards the carriage.
The coachman hauled on the reins, face red, and the carriage lurched to a halt.
“What are you about?” the man yelled, waving his whip. “Get out of the way!”
“I can’t,” William responded, his voice shaking. “I need to speak to somebody inside the carriage.”
“Certainly not. Move!”
Anger flared. “I cannot move. I need to speak to her!”
