Page 27 of A Lady Most Wayward
Nonsense. Fear is the only emotion I should hope to inspire in this woman.
But that was a lie.
This is going to be a long ride.
That was the truth.
8
Olivia’s legs ached. Her body was sore in places she didn’t wish to acknowledge. She longed to lean back against Philippa, close her eyes, and slip into unconsciousness, but then she would fall off the damn horse.
They had been riding over rough terrain for hours. The rolling hills shifted to rugged coastline as Philippa veered from the main road the carriage was following to take a quicker and far less travelled route southwest. When Olivia had questioned her about it, Philippa only urged the horse to move faster.
‘The map was clear. This is the fastest path to Cornwall and your daughter. If the Crow sent those three after us, there’s no reason why he hasn’t already sent others in search of Hyacinth. The faster we find her, the better her chances are of escape.’
Olivia had pressed her lips together after that and focused on staying upright. Fear, fatigue, and the initial shock of their encounter with the highwaymen faded into a numb kind of trance as they traversed the many miles separating Olivia from her daughter.
Hyacinth. Hyacinth. Hyacinth.
She repeated her name silently. A mantra keeping Olivia focused on what was most important. She used the same trick when she was imprisoned in the asylum. Keeping Hyacinth in the forefront of her mind had been the only way to stay sane in a house designed for madness. Knowing she needed to survive, if only to hold her sweet girl one more time, empowered her to endure.
Of course, when Olivia had finally returned to England to be reunited with her daughter, the girl had stood with her father, their servants lined up on either side of the drive to receive the lady of the house, and each unfamiliar line of Hyacinth’s face was hardened in hatred. She’d stiffened when Olivia tried to embrace her. Olivia barely recognised the angry young woman her child had become. It had been far more painful than any ice bath Olivia suffered at the asylum. More shocking than the brutal treatment of the orderlies. More devastating than the years of separation.
But no matter. If I can’t earn her affection, I can at least ensure her safety.
Sending Hyacinth away would be the hardest thing Olivia had ever done, including riding pell-mell over the countryside with a dominating duchess at her back, but she would do it regardless. The girl already hated her. She would probably rejoice at a chance to be rid of her mother forever. And at least Olivia could face her fate knowing her daughter was safe. Because she wasn’t lying when she told Philippa she would turn herself in if the duchess could ensure Hyacinth’s escape from England. And more, she would make sure Philippa set Hyacinth up with all the contacts a young woman might wish from a duchess as powerful as Lady Winterbourne. Sacrificing her own life would be well worth knowing her daughter’s future was bright. And part of her would finally be at peace. Knowing she would be punished for her crimes might actually help Olivia regain a modicum of respect for herself.
At some point during their journey, Philippa’s left hand slid from the harness to rest around Olivia’s waist. She felt the flex of Philippa’s fingers and fought the urge to lean back against her. She would not allow the duchess to support her no matter how desperately her body wanted to sink into Philippa’s warmth.
‘Look. Just there.’ Philippa let go of Olivia’s waist and pointed in the distance. There was a dim grey shape in the waning light. A small cottage perched on the edge of the narrow path they were following.
‘Do you think they’ll let us stay for the night?’ Olivia half-turned. Her nose nearly grazed Philippa’s cheek. The woman’s skin stretched tight over high cheekbones. For a wild moment, she was tempted to press her lips against the silky texture and watch Philippa’s eyes widen in shock. Or perhaps darken with desire.
I really am going mad.
‘We’re going to find out.’ Philippa turned her own head to look at Olivia. Their lips were only a breath apart. Philippa’s dark hair caught in the wind, tangling with Olivia’s pale curls. If she leaned even a fraction forward, she could run her tongue over Philippa’s full bottom lip. Nip her just there and swallow her gasp of need. She could take Philippa’s longing and amalgamate it with her own. She could forget her desperation, just for a moment, and become lost in desire. Pretend she was just a normal woman in love.
No. Not in love. You can’t love someone you also hate. Lust, certainly. But not love.
The duchess turned back to the cabin. Olivia felt Philippa’s thighs tighten as the horse responded, moving into a rocking canter that forced Olivia to grip his mane tighter and focus once more on not falling. They had traded back and forth between the horses three times, and she imagined the animals were just as desperate to end their journey as the women who rode them. The larger bay certainly wasted no time in covering the short distance to the cottage. The smaller horse followed close behind, tethered to them by a strap from her harness.
The cabin was deserted. After dismounting – awkwardly for Olivia, and infuriatingly gracefully for the duchess – they carefully inspected the outside of the dwelling, peering through dusty windows, and knocking loudly on the front door. Olivia turned to Philippa and shrugged. ‘Empty. At least for now. Do you think anyone will return?’
Philippa smudged a circle of clean glass on the windowpane and peered inside once more. ‘Based on the dust covering the furniture, and the mouse I see sitting next to the hearth, my guess is, no.’
‘Should we break a window?’ Olivia looked around for a rock large enough to toss through the window. ‘You’re ever so good at it.’ She turned to smirk at Philippa, who returned the expression with a far less amused twisting of her lips.
Philippa reached up into her half-assembled hair and removed a pin. Another jet-black lock fell free, brushing over her cheek. She held the small piece of metal up and raised her eyebrow. ‘No need for such violence when we can just as easily pick the lock.’
‘Too bad that doesn’t work for carriage windows.’ Olivia couldn’t resist poking at her. She stepped aside and watched as Philippa bent the pin, inserted it into the lock, and twitched her wrist one way, then the other. She bit her lip in concentration. Olivia tried not to imagine her own teeth sinking into Philippa’s plush crimson flesh.
Control yourself. You don’t like her.
A click and Philippa’s triumphant smile alerted Olivia to her enemy’s success. Philippa twisted the handle and pushed open the door.
‘Your luxurious accommodation awaits, my lady.’ The glint of mischief flashing in Philippa’s cobalt eyes warmed something tight and frozen in Olivia’s chest.
Lifting her skirt, Olivia deliberately brushed past Philippa as she crossed the threshold. She didn’t imagine the spark ofsomethingcrackling between them, but she did back away from it. For her own protection. Philippa was not for her, and she had no desire to become like one of the drooling fools who followed Olivia around. She was the wanted, not the wanting. That position was far too powerless, and Olivia was already acutely aware of her limited autonomy.
