Page 6 of Duke of Sapphire

“Up,” he said sharply.

No movement.

He reached in and seized the boy’s shoulder, shaking it hard. The figure came alive all at once, scrambling upright, arms up in defense. The hat tumbled off. A tangle of brown hair spilled out of the cap, and the face that looked back at him was not a boy’s at all.

This was a young woman, eyes wild and bright, jaw set for a fight.

She stared at him unwaveringly.

Henry felt an odd stillness. Then he was consumed a white-hot anger, cut sharp by confusion.

He held her gaze for a beat, then said, in the voice he reserved for the worst of his staff, “Who are you and what are you doing in my carriage?”

CHAPTER 3

The stowaway did not shrink. “I am—no one. I mean—I am no one important. But I will leave at once if you let me.”

Henry placed one hand on the carriage frame. “I am not in the habit of offering charity to trespassers. You will answer, and you will do so now. Name, origin, and reason for occupying my carriage.”

The girl’s mouth compressed into a thin, stubborn line. She wore boy’s clothing, but it did not become her. Judging by the way she held her chin high, she had been born into privilege. And when she spoke, Henry thought she sounded educated—her vowels clipped and southern.

She blinked rapidly, looking everywhere but his face. “If you turn me in, my father will be furious. He will. I do not wish to go back.”

“You should have considered that before you absconded.”

She opened her hands, showing her empty palms. “I had no choice.”

“There is always a choice.”

“Not for me.” Her tone was tart.

“How did you get in here?”

“The door was unlocked, and it was raining.”

“You could have taken shelter at the Swan.”

“For a man who appears intelligent, that is a rather poor suggestion,” she countered. “A youth in ill-fitting clothes with empty pockets walking into a bustling inn parlor attracts immediate scrutiny. An empty coach in a dark yard does not.”

Henry ignored her jab. “And you did not think to check whose coach it was?”

She lifted her chin. “In the dark and the rain, inspecting coat-of-arms on door panels was rather difficult. My primary concern was my survival.”

Her jaw was set and her eyes were entirely awake. She held herself very still as if she were pretending not to be afraid. “I am not sending you back,” Henry said, “until I know who you are.”

“There is no need to know who I am for am I never going back.”

“That is not how this works.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Henry said with great patience, “I cannot hide an unknown woman in my carriage. Not without consequences. Not without—” He stopped and heaved an annoyed sigh. “Who are you?”

“Someone who would like very much not to go home.”

“That is not a name.”

“No,” she said, “it isn’t.”