He turned then, without a word to the contrary, and lifted his hand to the next hackney as it approached. It drew to the curb, and her dark stranger shot her a look that demanded she appreciate his efforts. He opened the door, appeared to sniff the upholstery, then nodded curtly to her. As she approached, he put down the foot block and held the door for her to mount the box. Elizabeth dipped her head in a scant approximation of a full curtsy and raised her foot, then found that he had caught her hand to help her in.
She met his eye in surprise, but his expression was grave, yielding nothing. She drew a sharp little breath and stepped up, feeling his strong arm assisting her more than she was accustomed to. Even through the gloves they both wore, there was something reassuring about the firmness of his grip as he steadied her. She seated herself and looked back as he put up the step and closed the door. She heard his voice outside, giving the driver the direction, and then there was a creaking just behind her as his weight settled into the rumble seat on the back.
There was a small, darkly soiled window between them; evidence that this particular coach had been rather fine in its youth.Elizabeth turned to peer through it, finding it completely obscured by his broad shoulders as they rocked through the busy streets. He was forced to press his back directly against the thin panel which separated them, and she could hear through the glass the soft scraping of his clothing against the wood.
It was slow going, traversing the busy streets at any time of day. Elizabeth began to wonder if they would not have done better to walk, but the few places where the horse jerked into a faster gait more than made up for any stoppage. She had ridden in her uncle’s carriage often enough, which could boast a clever driver, but this master of the ribbons did not seem to hold with finesse over practicality. Quite often she was forced to grip the seat for balance as the frantic driver dashed his jaded vehicle through holes in the way which were far too small. She gritted her teeth, resettling her bonnet after one particularly rough lurch. The chaise had skidded to a sudden halt, forced to wait on traffic. There was a grunt from behind her, but the shoulders still darkened the window, so he had not fallen off.
Unable to resist, she knocked on the glass. “Is there a horse in your lap?”
“Two,” was the dry retort.
“Perhaps you should step onto one of their backs.”
There was a pause, and Elizabeth tried to imagine what expression would be crossing his face. Alas, she did not know him well enough to predict his response. More was the pity, for the facial reaction was always the most entertaining part of any exchange.
“I doubt the two together could hold me,” came his muffled reply. “The pair of nags can barely pull their own cab.”
Their vehicle jerked again, and the rattling of the wheels made further attempts at conversation impossible. Elizabeth turned to face forward, giggling as she did so. Oh, he was the most haughty, insufferable man, and she would be well rid of him soon, but he was not without his abilities. Few apart from her father could truly banter with her, giving rise to this bounding sense of playfulnessshe felt when speaking to him. Uncomfortable he clearly was, for a variety of reasons, she could imagine, but he was intelligent. Such a shame that more gentlemen were not so well read and spared so little time for serious thought. And such a shame that this particular man’s good looks and fine figure belonged to a personality so brooding and prideful!
In due time, they had reached their destination. Elizabeth settled her bonnet once more, just as the door was opening. He was frowning down at some bit of mud sprayed upon his shoes but straightened as she bent toward the door. Once again, that strong hand took hers. She stared at him curiously as she lowered herself to the pavement, and he gazed back, dark brown eyes unflinching. He remained so, ensuring that she was safely upon her own two feet, for an uncomfortable second longer until the driver coughed.
Elizabeth shook herself. She drew out her reticule to pay the man, but as she extended the coin for her “footman” to pass to the driver, his hand touched hers again, staying it. He turned to pay the driver himself, then came back to her with a slight bow. “At your service, madam.”
She arched a brow. “Miss Bennet, please, or Miss Elizabeth suits me, as well.”
There was a faint softening about his mouth. “Very well, Miss Bennet. I hope you know where to go from here.”
Elizabeth looked up at the buildings. “I have never been here, but I believe it is nearby.”
“Nearby?” his tones rose. “How did you give the direction if you do not know the exact location?”
“I overheard my uncle Philips three years ago when he first formed the association. He told my father and my uncle Gardiner the cross streets, which were Charlotte and Castle Street near Long Acre, so….” She arched on her toes and scanned up and down the street.
“Three years ago!”
“Yes, but I have an excellent memory, sir, for you see my dearest friend from Hertfordshire is named Charlotte, and Long Acre is quite similar in sound to—Oh! I think that is it. Yes, Harrogate and Smith, in the fifth building down on our right. That sounds familiar.”
“You are not certain?”
“Reasonably so.”
She could see his jaw clenching and his fingers working into a tight knot. “Let us proceed, then.”
Elizabeth found she could scarcely keep ahead of him when he lengthened his strides toward an objective. She glanced over her shoulder once, and he drew back, but his impatience could hardly be denied.
They were still two streets away when three men, deep in conversation and appearing in much haste, came out of the building they approached. “Ah!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “You see, there he is, my uncle! You need not have feared, for I was correct after all, and this is the right place. That man in the green is my uncle.”
“Your uncle is leaving!” His strides lengthened again.
“Oh. Indeed, he is. Uncle Gardiner!” she cried, but her companion put out his hand and called in his own deep voice.
“Mr Gardiner, sir! I would speak with you—Mr Gardiner!”
But neither Mr Gardiner nor his companions heard. They mounted a waiting carriage, apparently all in some great hurry, and the horse was moving away.
Elizabeth’s escort was nearly running now, his walk looking more like a sprint as he left her far behind in his pursuit of the departing carriage, but the street here was clear, and the carriage was gone. Still, it took him at least thirty paces to admit defeat. By the time Elizabeth caught him up again, he had slowed to a dejected gait before the very building her uncle had left.
“Bad luck,” she bit her lip, and hesitantly peeked at his face.
