Page 36 of Silence of Deceit
Hugh tore himself away and stepped back just as the door opened. Audrey spun away from her maid. Her whole face was scorching, and blood surged through her veins at lightning speed. How could she have allowed herself to forget about Greer? Hugh cleared his throat and tipped the brim of his hat.
“Now that you’ve found your room safely, I’ll bid you goodnight. Your Grace.” His voice was husky and abrupt, and his eyes swiftly met hers before he disappeared into the dim hallway.
ChapterEleven
At the first blush of dawn, Hugh gave up on sleep. The posting inn was a flurry of activity as the sun brimmed the treetops of the small village of Southby Green, and after his morning ablutions, he entered the stable yard. Carrigan was up and preparing the duchess’s coach. The driver looked like he’d bedded down in a pile of hay for the night, his clothing rumpled and hat askew. He tugged the brim and straightened a bit when he caught sight of Hugh.
“I suspect you’ll arrive in Cheltham by nightfall,” Hugh said. The village was one of the southernmost in Northumberland, and where Shadewell would be found.
“That is the plan,” Carrigan replied.
Hugh had a plan of his own. He’d thought it over during the long hours spent lying on his back, staring at the water-stained plaster ceiling, the taste of the duchess still on his tongue.
Since departing the alcove outside room three, his body had fluctuated between cringing with remorse and tightening in lust. He’d never intended for it to happen, but when Audrey poked her finger into his chest to chastise him, the barrier he’d erected around himself whenever she was near had pierced as easily as a soap bubble. Like an unpolished green buck, his lips had crashed against hers, his tongue practically invading her mouth, seeking out the promise of pleasure cut off at the knees in August. And had they not been intruded upon by the maid, Hugh was certain he would have dragged Audrey to his room like some single-minded brute. What’s worse, from her startled but yielding response, she would have gone willingly. He’d spent the night half grateful for the maid’s timing, and half incensed by it.
The near kiss in Hertfordshire should have never happened. It had been a mistake, a misstep. This realized kiss had been pure idiocy. A self-inflicted wound. Hugh ground his molars, swallowed his frustration, and focused on Audrey’s devoted driver. He’d barely explained his proposal to Carrigan when the duchess and her maid rounded the corner of the building and entered the stable yard, dressed and ready for travel.
Audrey slowed when she saw Hugh and her driver standing together. A fine blush stained the apples of her cheeks, but she firmed her jaw and increased her speed toward the carriage.
“As we have the same destination, and neither of us will concede to returning to London, I suggest we travel together. There is no reason we should try to outrun each other,” Hugh said by way of greeting.
The duchess, while always beautiful, looked especially alluring as she quizzed him with a skeptical look. Her dark blue eyes were still sleepy, as if she had not rested well during the night either.
“In my carriage?” she asked with barely concealed alarm.
He stiffened his shoulders, guessing the direction of her concern. Surely, she had spent the last many hours poring over his graceless kiss and how she regretted being subjected to it.
“I will ride with Carrigan,” he said, “and will leave my phaeton here to be retrieved on our way back through.”
Contrition pulled the corners of her lips. “That’s not necessary. You should ride in the carriage with Greer and me.”
He could not think of anything he wanted to do less. Should he ride with her, he’d spend the next dozen hours with the primal wish for Greer to be up in the box with Carrigan so Hugh could be free to plunder the duchess’s mouth again. Either that or squirming in awkward discomfort while he and the duchess fought for a topic of conversation.
“The point is to guard against highwaymen, Your Grace. I wouldn’t be much use closeted up in the carriage with a pair of females.”
It was a touch harsh. The spark of insult in her eyes confirmed it. Still, it was the first brick in rebuilding a sturdier wall around himself.
“And when we arrive at Shadewell?” she asked tartly.
Hugh grimaced. To this, he had not given as much thought. However, there seemed only one course of action available to them. “We work together.”
The loosening sensation in his chest surprised him when Audrey’s stringent expression softened. The victorious lift of one corner of her mouth directed his attention toward her lips. Heat pooled low in his stomach. He cut it off with a cold turn of his shoulder and marched off, to arrange with the posting boy for his phaeton to be stored in place for now.
They were well underway by the time the sun had fully lifted over the horizon, casting golden light over the dewy grasses of the farmlands that the Great North Road bisected. His and Carrigan’s breath fogged the chilled air as they rode along, but before long they’d warmed a little. There was no trouble the first many hours, encountering only a few drovers, a horse and rider, and a wagon off the road with a split wheel. Carrigan stopped to offer assistance, though Hugh kept his hand on his flintlock and warned him to stay ready. The horse patrol constables claimed highwaymen often staged a broken conveyance on the side of the road to lure their victims into stopping and offering help. But the farmer thanked them and waved them off, saying he had it handled.
After that, Hugh allowed himself to relax, if only slightly. They stopped to eat lunch at another posting inn and switch out horses but didn’t linger long. They beat a swift path northward, their legs, backs, and skulls all suffering from the grueling pace along the rutted road. The posting inn at Cheltham was their destination for the night, and Hugh and Carrigan wanted to arrive not long after dark. In the wilds of northern England, there were no Bow Street horse patrolmen on duty, and their lone carriage would be an easy target for someone will ill intent.
Hours stretched on, and when he and Carrigan fell silent, Hugh’s mind turned to how Sir might be faring. The boy was far too stubborn to not heal and wake. Who had attacked him and why continued to plague Hugh. He’d kept the pocket knife out of sight the evening before, choosing not to ask the duchess to hold it. She had already accused him of exploiting her ability. He could figure this out on his own. It had to do with Delia and the murders—he just didn’t know how yet. Once Sir woke, Basil would send word. Until then, he could only try to find out the blackmailer’s identity.
Carrigan stopped to light the lamps at dusk, and an hour later, the posting inn appeared like an oasis. Half the size of the place they’d lodged the night before, the inn resembled a barn, but they shuffled inside for supper and rest just the same.
Hugh’s entire body ached from crown to toe, his joints stiff. Audrey silently took a seat in the tavern, her face wan, her eyes avoiding his. She refused to eat more than a few bites of bread and stew, and then retired with Greer to one of the rooms. When he stood to see them upstairs, she’d snapped her head in a tight shake, insisting it wasn’t necessary. Hugh could only imagine she wanted to avoid anything like what occurred the night before and bowed his head before re-taking his seat.
He and Carrigan hired the private room in the back of the inn and spent the night stretched on a pair of couches in front of a lit hearth. The driver’s snores weren’t the only thing to keep Hugh awake. He wondered at Audrey’s quiet, tense demeanor. He had the sense that his presence was not the only reason she’d been out of sorts. Returning to this village, the prospect of stepping inside Shadewell again, must have been troubling her.
Her silence and ashen face when she came downstairs into the tavern’s main room the next morning assured him of it. Greer seemed more attentive to her mistress, which put Hugh somewhat at ease as they followed the innkeeper’s directions toward the asylum.
A stone wall ran alongside a rutted path through desolate moorland and the sun stayed firmly behind an impenetrable banking of steel gray clouds. Riding up in the box with Carrigan again, a cold film of morning mist settled upon their clothing and skin. The low-lying grasses and scrub brush had lost all their color, and they passed a handful of peat bogs, reminding him of the woman whom Audrey had mentioned. The one who had escaped the sanatorium at night, only to be swallowed by the wet land. When the stone edifice of a large, blocky manse appeared from behind a rolling hill, the small hairs on the back of Hugh’s neck prickled. The place looked like an abandoned castle, an austere and unwelcoming fortress enclosed by a high wall that ran the perimeter. Several gables and towers speared the bleak sky. Scores of dark windows appeared lifeless, and leafless vines clung to the limestone exterior like blackened veins.
