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His heart quickened at that solution, then slowed and he frowned. But if Max thought there was no way to clear his name but for Elodie to appear before a tribunal in London, he might press Will to take her there. And Elodie, in her current state, would agree to go.
Perhaps it would be better to sail around the south coast to Falmouth and catch a ship to the Americas … except he didn’t have sufficient funds with him for such a trip; he’d need to visit his bankers in London first.
Maybe he should just go to Max, explain to him privately why he was breaking his solemn vow. Max had never been vindictive; even if Will’s betrayal meant Max would lose for ever the life that should have been his, he knew Max wouldn’t force him to risk the life of the woman Will now realised he loved.
But at the thought of facing the man to whom he owed more than anyone else on earth and admitting he was reneging on his pledge, his gut churned. The earl would say that Will had no honour to lose. But Max had always believed in him.
So, if he was prepared to betray Max, and it seemed that he was, he might as well make a clean break. Travel through Kent without stopping to see Max, go to London, obtain funds and head at once to Cornwall to take ship. He could write to Max later, when Elodie was safe in America, beyond the reach of French or English law.
His heart torn with anguish at the thought of leaving behind the only family he’d known—and losing the respect of the one man whose good opinion he valued more than any other—Will sprang up and paced the small room. After several circuits, as he gazed down again at Elodie’s sleeping form, he knew if he must choose between Max and Elodie—between cousins, friendship, family, honour and Elodie—he would choose her.
They would go straight to London, obtain funds and leave for the Americas.
Then, the thought of betrayal bitter in his mouth, it struck him that leaving England immediately would only compound the dishonour. Max had believed in him, counselled him and championed him since they were boys. He couldn’t just disappear without facing him. If he was going to break his pledge and for ever doom his cousin’s government aspirations, he owed it to Max to tell him face to face.
He’d not add the white feather of cowardice to his disgrace.
Max might try to change his mind, but Will knew, on the bond they shared, that Max would never try to prevent him from leaving, or put Elodie in danger by sending the authorities after them.
So tomorrow they would sail in the smuggler’s cutter to the Kentish coast and make their way to Max’s farm. He’d confess his intentions to Max, receive his curses or farewells, then take Elodie to the safety of the Americas.
In her present despairing and listless state, Elodie might not agree to go with him. Well, he’d figure out a way to persuade her. She’d probably end up liking it, with new adventures to share and a whole continent to explore, not a town or river or meadow in it tarnished by anguished memories of the past. Maybe they could end up at the French-speaking colony at Nouvelle Orléans. He could contact his friend Hal Waterman, investigate the possibilities of investing in this new land.
Some of the terrible burden lifted from his chest, leaving lightness and a peace that testified to the rightness of the decision. Though the agony of abandoning Max still hollowed his gut, Will returned to the bed, took Elodie in his arms and slept at last.
Chapter Eighteen
On a drizzly grey afternoon three days later, mud-spattered and weary, Will and Elodie pulled up their tired mounts before a set of elaborate wrought-iron gates with the image of a running horse in the centre. ‘This must be it—Denby Lodge,’ Will said, dismounting to knock on the gatehouse door. ‘I have to say, I’ll be glad of a bath and a good dinner.’
‘I still think we should have engaged a room for me at the inn in the last village,’ Elodie said. Now that the moment to confront Max Ransleigh had almost arrived, anxiety was filtering through the fog of lethargy that had cocooned her through their Channel crossing—Will having managed to order up fair seas and a swift passage—and the two days of hard riding since. ‘I’m sure Monsieur Max will be happy to offer you hospitality. I’m not so sure he’ll be willing to offer it to me.’
‘You needn’t worry,’ Will told her as an elderly man trotted from the brick house to unlock the tall gates. ‘Max is a diplomat, remember; he’ll receive you with such perfect courtesy, you’ll never be able to tell what he’s really feeling.’
Turning to the gatekeeper, Will asked, ‘Is the Lodge straight on?’
‘Aye, sir,’ the man replied, bowing. ‘Follow the drive past the barns and paddocks. The manor will be to your right once the drive rounds the parkland.’
After handing the gatekeeper a coin and acknowledging his thanks, Will ushered Elodie through the entry gates, then remounted and proceeded with her down the gravelled drive.
‘The Denby Stud is quite famous,’ Will told her as they trotted past lush, fenced meadows. ‘Several army comrades purchased their cavalry horses from Sir Martin and swore by their quality. Swift, strong-boned, long on stamina and well mannered.’ He laughed. ‘Though I can’t imagine what Max finds to keep himself busy here, I am curious to meet his wife, Caroline. My cousin Alastair says she’s nothing in his usual style. Max always preferred ladies of stunning beauty and alluring charm. A horse breeder is definitely a departure.’
Surprised by Will’s sudden loquaciousness, when they had travelled mostly in silence the last few days, Elodie was about to question him when she realised that, so attuned had he become to her, he must have sensed her uneasiness. His commentary was meant to inform her about the farm and the owner she was about to meet—but also to distract her from worrying about Max.
Once again, his thoughtfulness warmed the bleakness within her. How she wished they might have met years ago, when she was young and heart-whole, when she believed the future bright with possibilities.
She would just have to appreciate each moment of the very few she had left with him.
And if he was kind enough to try to cheer her, she could rouse herself to reply. ‘It seems a very handsome property.’
‘Yes, the fields and fences are in excellent condition. And look, there on the hill!’ He pointed off to the left, where a herd of several dozen horses roamed. ‘Mares with their foals. Beauties all!’ he pronounced after studying them for a moment. ‘It seems Max’s wife is maintaining her father’s high standards.’
After riding steadily for thirty minutes past pastures and occasional lanes leading to thatched cottages in the distance without encountering barns or paddocks, Elodie said, ‘The farm seems very large.’
‘Larger than I expected,’ Will agreed. ‘I’m glad I asked directions of the gatekeeper, else I would fear we’d taken a wrong turn. Ah, finally—I see a barn over that rise.’
After passing an impressive series of barns surrounded by paddocks used for training the colts, Will told her, at last the lane entered a wood and turned to the right. As the trees thinned, they saw a fine stone manor house crowning the top of a small hill, flanked by oaks and shrubbery.
Trepidation dried her mouth, while the fluttering in her stomach intensified. Would Max Ransleigh receive her—or order her off his property?
Then they were at the entry, a servant trotting out to take their horses, a butler ushering them into the front parlour. Trying to be unobtrusive, Elodie stationed herself behind a wing chair set by the hearth, while Will stood by the mantel, toasting his hands at the welcome warmth of a fire.
With Will poised on the threshold of accomplishing all he’d set out to do, she’d expected he would be excited, impatient to see his cousin again, triumphant to be bringing home the means to redress all Max Ransleigh’s wrongs. Oddly enough, he seemed as tense as she was, almost … uncomfortable, Elodie thought.
Before she had time to wonder further about it, the door opened and Max Ransleigh walked in, as handsome and commanding as she remembered. ‘Will, you rascal!’ he said, striding to the hearth and clasping his cousin in a quick, rough embrace. ‘Though I ought to spot you a good round of fisticuffs for returning to England and then leaving again without even the courtesy of coming to meet my bride.’
Just as Elodie thought she’d escaped his notice, Max turned to her. ‘And Madame Lefevre,’ he said, bowing. ‘My cousin Alastair told me Will intended to bring you back to England and I see he has succeeded. Welcome to my home.’
Elodie sank into a deep curtsy, studying Max warily beneath her lashes as she rose. If he was angry, he hid it well; his smile seemed genuine and his greeting sincere. A diplomat, indeed—or far more forgiving then she deserved.
‘It is of everything most kind of you to receive me, Monsieur Ransleigh. When you would have every right to spit on me and toss me out of your house.’
He surveyed her with that quick, perceptive gaze she remembered so well. ‘To be frank, a year ago, I might have. But everything has changed since then.’
‘I deeply regret the disservice I did you. Let me assure you, I’m fully prepared to do whatever it takes to make amends.’
‘We’ll talk of that later,’ Will interposed.
