4
Richard sat astride his horse as the rain poured from the heavens with relentless fury. What had begun as a light drizzle had swiftly transformed into a soaking downpour, and now, rivulets of water streamed from the brim of his riding hat and down the back of his greatcoat. His gloves were sodden, his boots squelched with every shift of weight, and he was quite certain he had not felt dry in hours. The chill crept beneath his collar and settled in his bones, but he remained stoic, his gaze fixed ahead.
He had been following the coach since shortly after breakfast, and though he’d never admit it aloud, he was weary of the saddle and aching in places he’d rather not name. Still, he found a measure of satisfaction in the fact that everything had gone according to plan, thus far. Miss Theodosia had agreed to accompany him to London, albeit reluctantly, and Mr. Crosby had remained behind to deliver word to the elusive Mr. Smith. Now all that remained was to keep Miss Theodosia occupied—and under watch—until Mr. Smith came to collect her.
The rain showed no sign of letting up. He estimated theyhad at least another hour’s ride before reaching the coaching inn, and the thought of a roaring fire and a strong glass of brandy had become something of an obsession.
Just then, the coach lurched to a halt. The door creaked open, and Miss Theodosia leaned out, her bonnet askew and her cheeks flushed pink from the chill. “It would ease my conscience if you would ride in the coach with me, my lord.”
Richard hesitated, blinking rain from his lashes. He had promised her he would not share the coach, a courtesy to preserve appearances. But as the wind howled past his ears and thunder growled in the distance, he found himself reconsidering.
Before he could speak, Theodosia added, “Do come in before you catch a cold and die.” And with that, she disappeared inside, the door closing behind her.
He didn’t need to be asked again. Swinging down from the saddle, Richard secured his dripping horse to the back of the coach, then climbed aboard. The warmth of the interior hit him immediately, though the scent of damp wool and wet leather quickly followed.
He settled into the seat across from her and shrugged off his saturated greatcoat, folding it with care and placing it beside him. His hair dripped into his eyes, and he ran a hand through it, attempting in vain to tame it.
Miss Theodosia regarded him with a softness that surprised him. “I’m sorry you had to endure that.”
“Don’t be,” he replied. “Thank you for offering me shelter.”
She gave a modest nod. “It’s the least I could do. I wouldn’t want to be held responsible for the untimely death of a marquess.”
That coaxed a reluctant smile from him. “How considerate.” He noticed the small, green-bound book resting in her lap. “Were you reading?”
“I attempted to,” she said, her expression wry. “But the jostling of the coach disagreed with my stomach.”
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s about farming implements and crop rotation,” she replied, holding it up as though it were a prized possession. “It’s quite informative.”
“You must be jesting.”
“Not at all,” she said. “I find it fascinating.”
“It sounds abysmally dull.”
“To you, perhaps. But I enjoy learning new methods to improve estate efficiency.”
He shifted uncomfortably, suddenly aware of how close they were seated. “I hope I’m not getting you wet.”
“Would you care for a blanket?”
“No, thank you,” he said. “Though I appreciate the offer.”
An awkward silence fell between them. She turned her face towards the rain-spattered window, her features cast in profile against the gloom. It gave Richard the opportunity to study her more closely. Her features were refined and delicate, her eyes intelligent, though guarded. She was, objectively, quite beautiful.
Not that it mattered. She was here for a purpose, and any personal intrigue was a distraction he could ill afford.
Still, he needed to keep her engaged.
Clearing his throat, he attempted a conversational gambit. “Do you like to… ride?”
She glanced at him briefly. “I do, my lord.”
And then, maddeningly, she returned her attention to the window.
He blinked. That was it?
