Lily gazed up into his kind eyes and wondered whether she dared tell him the truth. The compassion in his gaze finally won her over, and she shook her head. “My employer…he wasn’tgoing to let me leave without telling him who I was, so I had to run.”
Abeer sucked in a sharp breath. “You took a horse?”
Lily shook her head, grateful that her conscience was clear on that front, at least. “I walked.”
“Are you quite all right? Did anything…Were you injured at all on your journey?”
“No, I’m fine. I’m just so relieved to finally be here.”
“You did very well, my lady. Your brother will be very proud.”
Later, Lily sank into a hot, scented bath in her private room, with Mabel, the maid William had sent for her, in attendance. Lily couldn’t help but wonder whether her brotherwouldbe proud, or if William would be embarrassed that she’d put herself in such an untenable situation in the first place.
Though hindsight certainly offered clarity, there had been no possible way for the Lily of four months ago to know that her brother was soon to return, and with a fortune, to boot. During those years of poverty, Lily had watched her seven sisters fade like portraits left in the sun. She’d waited as long as she could; she’d had to dosomething.
Still, Lily wouldn’t begrudge William some anger that she’d put herself—and her sisters—in such a precarious position. Even if she had managed to extract herself from it.
Very painfully,she thought, lifting her right foot from the water to inspect the ragged shreds of popped blisters along her heel.
From reading the long letters that Claire and her brother William had sent along with Abeer, such pain was soon to be a thing of the past. Apparently, William had rented an entire, palatial house in Paris for her and her sisters to inhabit while he stayed behind and saw to the restoration of their family home in London. The Preston ladies were to be accompanied by a bevy ofchaperones and lady’s maids—enough that the entire entourage would take all the cabins in one of his own ships.
Lily shook her head, her incredulous exhale sending steam wafting across the surface of the water. Her brother owned ships. A whole fleet of them, apparently.
She leaned back in the water, sighing as the warm water relaxed the tension from her back and shoulders.
Paris.
She’d always longed to go, but now the travel plans were doubly attractive—she was keen on putting as much distance between her and Lord Hayes as possible.
CHAPTER 5- BRADFORD
Mr. Belfour’s blooded hounds looked as capable as promised. The dogs had gangly bodies with an excess of russet skin that collected along their neck and haunches in soft wrinkles, long dark noses, and floppy ears that swung and bounced with their movements. Their tails wagged as they pointed their great noses at the air, the ground, and the horses in turn.
The two gentlemen started at daybreak—bleak as it was—in the field where the young lady known as Miss Sarah Hughes had last been spotted. The rising sun barely made a dent against the grey gloaming that promised mist or worse.
Mr. Belfour presented the four energetic beasts with a bundle of bedding from the governess’s quarters like some sort of offering. The lead dog trotted off, a howling bay sounding from his mouth.
“That’ll do.” Mr. Belfour smiled proudly, hefted himself upon his horse, and leaned back in the saddle until it squeaked. “That started the magic, make no mistake.”
Bradford frowned and followed. His expression only accentuated his already grim countenance—he hadn’t slept butan hour or two in snatches the night before. He’d mainly stared up at his bed coverings, trying to remind himself that it was no good for him to ride his horse along the lanes at night—the horse might step into a hole and break its leg, and Bradford would then undoubtedly break his neck.
But he couldn’t sleep, tormented by terrible imaginings of Miss Hughes lying in a cold ditch, her ankle twisted. Or perhaps she’d been waylaid by a footpad? They were very rare in this part of the country, but nothing was unheard of in this day and age.
Such fears alternated with deep swells of anger. How could she have lied to him, to all of them, for the past four months? How had she fooled the investigator who’d done his due diligence on her references? And more pressing than even those large concerns—how could she haveleftthem like that?
It hardly helped that he quite rationally blamed himself for the last.
But all that waiting and wondering was behind him, now that it was dawn. He urged his large black horse to follow Mr. Belfour’s brown mare.
The occasional baying of the dogs belied their canine enthusiasm for the hunt and served to prove that they were still on the right trail as they followed the hedgerow through the field all the way to the road beyond. As they climbed the berm to the top of the lane, Bradford expected the dogs to turn sharply left or right along the road. Instead, they plunged through the underbrush on the other side and headed down the hill towards a small creek, tails wagging.
“It’s too steep and thick for the horses,” Mr. Belfour announced, patting his solid stomach with a frown. “We’ll have to use the bridge up there and go around.”
Lord Hayes nearly grimaced. Instinctively, he didn’t want to let the hounds out of his sight for a moment. If there was asingle sliver of a chance that they might lose the trail, or miss her altogether, he abhorred the risk.
Mr. Belfour must have seen the concern on Bradford’s face, for he said, “Don’t worry, my lord—the dogs will wait for us on the other side. They’re well trained. We won’t lose them. Trust me, you can hear my Sheila from a mile off, even when you don’t want to.”
He chuckled at his own joke. Bradford nodded and spurred his horse toward the bridge a quarter mile down the road.
