Page 6 of The Duke of Ruin
It certainly looked as if she had to go. But really, it would only postpone the inevitable doom.
Unless she was able to disappear entirely. She sat on the bed and lay back against the pillows, indulging her fantasy. She’d live at the edge of a charming village where she’d run a small home for orphaned girls. She’d teach them and help them find their way—independently—in the world.
She dozed off, but not before she decided what she had to do.
Chapter 2
Another cold breezewhipped past Simon, making him burrow deeper into the wool of his cloak. Perhaps saying he would stand outside all night in December hadn’t been his best plan. It had only been fifteen minutes, and he was ready to find a fire.
He’d expected her to come, but with each minute that passed, he feared he was wrong.
It was a huge decision, and it would change her whole life. Probably. Did she want that?
Her father sounded like an ass. For her sake, Simon hoped she came.
He began to walk—the length of two town houses and then back again—hoping the movement would warm him a bit. When he turned for another circuit, he squinted down the street, as if he could conjure her appearance. Her house was at the other end of Curzon Street, near Chesterfield House.
Four more circuits. He wasn’t much warmer, but it kept his mind off the cold. He was glad there was a warming block in the coach. He checked his watch. Half past. Damn. He’d really thought she would come.
He turned at the corner and started back along the street, then froze. Was that a figure coming his way? He increased his pace, taking long strides. It was her.
“You came.”
She carried a small valise, and he promptly took it from her. “Is this all you have?” he asked.
“It’s all I could carry.”
He nodded. “It’s enough. We can obtain anything else you might need along the way.” He curved his arm along her lower back and guided her quickly back the way he’d come. “My coach is up here around the corner.”
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. It’s nearly freezing.”
He appreciated her concern. “It wasn’t long. I’m fine.”
They turned the corner, and his coachman jumped down from the box to open the door.
“Thank you, Tinley.” Simon handed the valise to the coachman to stow behind his seat.
Simon paused before helping her into the coach. “Where are we headed?”
“Lancashire.”
“Excellent.” Simon assisted her into the vehicle before turning to the coachman. “You have our direction.”
“Just so, Your Grace.” He bowed, then waited for Simon to climb inside before closing the door behind him.
Simon sat beside Miss Kingman on the forward-facing seat.
“Aren’t you going to sit over there?” she asked.
“I’d prefer if we share the seat and the foot warmer.” He reached for the woolen blanket sitting atop the opposite bench and drew it over their lower halves so that the heat from the foot warmer was trapped against them.
Her brow furrowed slightly, and her body seemed a bit rigid, but she didn’t say anything. She’d get used to it, Simon thought. She’d better, because they were going to be together for quite some time. It would take them a week to get to Lancashire. He hoped they’d be able to make thirty miles a day, but it would depend entirely on the weather and road conditions, both of which were bound to be trouble in December. Suddenly he wondered at the wisdom of undertaking this journey—heading north at this time of year.
“What’s in Lancashire?” he asked as they started moving.
“My cousin.” She was still quite tense, both vocally and physically. Perhaps she was cold. Or just nervous. Of course she was nervous. This wasn’t at all what she’d planned to do when she’d awakened that morning.
“And why did you choose to go there?”
