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“That will not work.”
“What do you propose we do? It was you who dragged me from my warm bed in the Fullers’ house. I had food and a blanket there, though I do not think one could reasonably call the lumpy thing they provided a mattress.”
He glanced away, then back to me. “I have an idea, but you will not like it.”
“Naturally.”
Benedict’s mouth bent down in a frown. “Remember that it is me doing you a favor.”
“Remember that you begged me to come with you.”
We were at odds, and I wasn’t sure how we were going to come to an accord on this. I clenched my hands into fists behind me to release some of my pent-up frustration and turned a bland smile on him. “What idea did you have, Benedict?”
“I have been able to find a carriage and a man to drive it for us, but no chaperone has made herself available. I admit that my questioning has been vague, but it is a delicate matter and I’m not sure how women typically go about this, so I am not in a position to easily find one.”
“Mrs. Fuller would not do?”
He looked away before settling his deep blue gaze back on me. “No. She would not have been a good option.”
“Then what do you propose? We cannot ride alone in a carriage together, not if we plan to keep our reputations intact. We’ll need to stop at inns to eat and change the horses, and I do not wish to be taken as a hussy.”
The silence sat between us for a few beats, broken only by the clopping of hooves on High Street and the birds calling to each other in the trees behind us.
Benedict’s blue gaze pierced me, and he drew in a breath before speaking. “You trust me, do you not?”
“That would depend on your definition of the wordtrust.”
He sighed. “That I will not hurt you. That you are safe in my company.”
“Of course you will not hurt me.” That had never been in question. Though Benedict and I never got along well, I knew he was not a bad man—not where it counted. He and Lord Claverley were different sorts entirely.
“Then consider my plan before you dash it away, yes?” he asked.
“I will.”
Benedict paused, then spoke carefully. “You can dress as a servant for the duration of our trip home . . . asmyservant. No one will question my traveling alone with a servant. In fact, no one would look twice at you.”
“Even a servant would wear a dress. What reason do you have to travel alone with a maid?”
“None, of course.” He smiled sheepishly. “But I hadn’t meant for you to act in the capacity of my maid.”
I looked at him in confusion. If he was about to imply that I would play the role of his mistress, he would be sorely disappointed.
“I meant for you”—he swallowed hard—“to act as my servant boy.”
It took a moment for the words to form and develop meaning in my head. Benedict wished to cross nearly half of England in a carriage alone with me dressed as a servant boy. It was true that no one would look twice at me then, particularly not when Benedict was so tall and easily commanded the attention of anyone in the room. I would be his shadow, slipping slowly across the countryside in anonymity.
It was utterly ridiculous, but it could work. And it would mean not involving anyone else in our scheme, which would further protect our reputations. We only needed to fool strangers in inns and the man driving our carriage. If no one discovered our ruse, we would never be forced to face the consequences of ruined reputations from being alone together for such a length of time.
I hated to admit that he had come up with a good idea, but it was the truth.
“Fine, I’ll do it.”
His eyebrows rose. “That was easier than I thought.”
“Anything that removes me from this place and deposits me at Chelton without anyone else the wiser about my whereabouts is an acceptable plan to me.”
Benedict nodded. “I will take two rooms at the Horse and Crown tonight, and we will set off in the morning. I’ve taken the liberty of obtaining a set of clothes for you in case you agreed to my plan.”
