She nodded.
“After you.”
They rode in silence, plodding through grassy farmland single-file until they reached a rutted gravel road, and the heart of the rural village.
Once there, Lord Randall rode beside her.
A pervasive sense of gloom descended on her, the closer they came to the inn. She imagined him abandoning her immediately, leaving her to return the mare and make her way to the inn alone. He might, however, see her safely inside. With Lord Randall, she could not reliably predict.
The man was surly to the point of rude one minute, and the next, displayed a gentle, even gallant nature she found almost more disturbing. Certainly more unsettling.
And then there had been that timeless moment, last night, under the stars, when he’d held her as if he couldn’t bear any distance between them.
Now, to look at him, one would think their life-altering kiss had never happened.
Awash with too many feelings, she drew a shuddering breath and cast him a sidelong glance.
His gaze snapped to hers, dark eyes flaring, a ruddy stain darkening his cheeks as if he looked into her mind and knew precisely about what she thought.
She jerked to face forward. He didn’t. He couldn’t.
“Where is the stable?” he asked, voice low. “I’ll see to your mare and pay any extra fees you might have incurred.”
She hadn’t thought of that. The inn had likely wondered if and when she intended to return their property. She started to tell him she had money of her own stored in her valise to cover her expenses, then decided against it. Let him pay. After all, it was his fault she’d come all this way, and his fault she would leave empty-handed.
Minutes later, she entered the inn, back stiff, turning to catch one last glimpse of him after he’d ridden away, her horse in tow. Her throat went tight. In all likelihood, she would never see the man again.
Or maybe she would, at asoireesome London Season. He’d have to return at some point. He had responsibilities to his title, didn’t he? So it stood to reason their paths would cross again.
By then, one or both of them would be married. At the mere thought of seeing another woman on his arm, her stomach threatened to upend the breakfast she’d ingested. Better never to see him again, she decided, and swept toward the reception desk where, as before, the innkeeper’s wife presided to greet the guests.
The unexceptional woman sent Annabelle a jovial smile. “Lady Woodville. Very pleasant to see you again. Will you be booking another room?”
Annabelle frowned at her. “No, of course not. One is more than enough. Kindly provide my key. Additionally, I wish a bath delivered, at once.” She held out her gloved hand.
The lady blinked at her palm. “I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding.”
Annabelle was not in the mood for any further inconveniences. Her boots had gotten wet boarding the small craft, and thanks to her mare’s unease—all right,herunease—she smelled like a musty animal. And she absolutely had to get out of this dress.
“What sort of misunderstanding? You can’t have given someone else my guest chamber. Unless you tossed my…Miss Dunn out on her ear.”
With a sinking stomach, it occurred to her that Lucy had a sharp tongue on her when dealing with other servants, and it would be just like the girl to cause mayhem in Annabelle’s absence.
The innkeeper’s wife’s smile showed signs of strain. “No, my lady. In fact, the opposite occurred. Your companion informed my husband and myself that you had made alternate plans and would not return.”
Annabelle was speechless. Lucy had far overreached.
“Oh, now that I think of it, she left a message for you, just in case. Very specific, she was, and asked that I take it down, though why she couldn’t write it out for herself I have no idea,” she finished on a mutter, then bent to search the shelving below the countertop.
Papers rustled, then the woman straightened, unfolding a sheet of parchment. She read silently, brows knitting together, and glanced up at Annabelle. “I’m afraid the note doesn’t make much sense.”
“Oh, just give it to me. Please,” Annabelle snapped as an afterthought, and took the note.
Dear Lady Woodville, if you come back following the incident, please know I followed your instructions to the letter and mum’s the word. I am returning home and await further instruction.
Goodness gracious. Lucy had returned to London—without her.
At least she had not spilled the beans regarding her identity. That was something.
