Now, her brother had abandoned her and she would be trapped in here with the duke for at least two days. Possibly longer if the roads were bad or post horses were unavailable. If they’d taken Bonham’s coach, they might have travelled faster. He had the best springs, the best horses and the best drivers.
But he’d insisted, for the sake of the ruse, that they do nothing out of the ordinary to call attention to them. They must travel as they always did, more slowly, less luxuriously, making the usual stops and arriving on the afternoon of the third day.
She spent the first few minutes pretending to be fascinated by the London traffic beyond the window until they’d left the city behind. But as people and houses gave way to countryside, there was little change in the scenery and her avoidance of conversation became more obvious. When she looked across at the duke, he was smiling back at her in understanding.
‘It is a long journey, is it not?’ he said.
She nodded.
He reached into his coat and removed a book. ‘You don’t mind if I read, do you?’
It had not occurred to her that he might be just as concerned as she was about the best way to pass the time. She glanced at the title of the book in surprise. ‘The Royal Exile. One of my favourites.’
‘You mentioned once that you liked Sarah Green,’ he replied. ‘Do you wish me to read aloud? It will make the time pass easier.’
‘Could you?’ she said.
He smiled, opened the volume and began.
When they stopped for the first night, at an inn outside of Reading, they were nearing the end of the first volume. His voice had never faltered. He was just as relaxed and cheerful as he had been that morning.
‘Will we eat in the main dining room?’ he said, staring at the inn.
‘We usually take a private sitting room,’ she replied, surprised he would even consider mixing with the strangers jostling for a quick drink and a bowl of stew.
‘I suppose Tom Smith would want privacy. For your sake, at least.’
‘You needn’t bother about me,’ she replied, though she had no desire to push in on a bench full of strangers.
‘No,’ he insisted, holding up a hand. ‘If I was an ordinary fellow, freshly betrothed, I would want nothing but the best for my beloved.’
She supposed, if he was traveling as a peer, such privacy was a given. ‘I suppose you have never ridden in a mail coach,’ she said.
He shook his head. ‘I wonder if Tom Smith would. Perhaps I shall explore the experience at another time. Or Tom Smith can, at least.’
She glanced at him, then quickly away. She had not given much thought as to who her pretend suitor was. But it appeared that the duke was quite enamoured with him.
He smiled at her. ‘He certainly would not waste your time as he gawked at the locals. You must be tired from the journey. Let us find our rooms so we can refresh ourselves.’ He offered his arm.
She let him lead her to the sitting room where Percy was already waiting. Dinner was uneventful and punctuated with the sort of conversation she was used to, when the two friends were together, with Percy rambling on about things that did not concern her.
Best keep your mouth shut, girl. No one wants to hear your nonsense.
For a moment, the voice in her head was so clear she expected to see her grandfather standing in a corner of the room. She imagined his sphere of influence, stretching out like a fog from the house they journeyed towards. Once the duke had spoken to him, he might realise what a dull creature she was and regret involving himself in her life.
The thought was so depressing that she remained quiet for the rest of the meal.
But when Percy left them alone for a few minutes to call for more wine, the duke gave her a knowing smile and a wink. ‘We are unchaperoned once more.’
They had been alone like this many times before, for he often dined at Percy’s home. While she was aware of each moment they’d been together, he’d never seen fit to mention it before when they were the only two in a room. He was just teasing her, to improve her mood. Or perhaps, this was how Tom Smith might banter with the woman he loved before stealing a kiss.
‘You are blushing,’ he said, still smiling.
‘Am I?’ she murmured, and felt herself blushing harder.
‘I suppose such a reaction might be in keeping with a normal engagement. I suspect it is more challenging for a woman to marry. You would be going from girl to woman and wife. And I…’ He shrugged and said, ‘A boy usually becomes a man long before he settles down to wed.’
She wondered if he was talking about the responsibilities of being an adult, or if this was some oblique reference towhat happened on the wedding night. When she’d occasionally worked him into her fantasies, the stories had been quite tame and ended long before any intimacy occurred. If he kept speaking of this engagement as if it was real, there was no telling where her mind might wander tonight when she was alone in bed.
