Page 26 of The Hired Hero
He would merely be the mercenary, decided the earl. He would get her to her family, collect his blunt—if there truly was any to collect—and be gone, as quickly as possible. That was all she had hired him to do.
And that was all she would bloody well get.
* * *
It was damnedunfair of him, fumed Caroline as she coaxed her tired horse into a gallop. Why should he be so angry with her? She could hardly be accused of forcing him to agree to the deal. And he would be well paid for his effort. So what was causing him to act in such an unpleasant manner? Really, he was the most ill-tempered, ill-mannered gentleman she had ever encountered…
But maybe that was because he was, according to all rumors, no gentleman at all.
However, he did seem to have a streak of kindness, which he endeavored to keep buried, as if he were…embarrassed by it.
Her horse’s stumble drew her attention back to the present. The tired gelding could no longer keep up. Caroline, too, was so weary and aching that she could barely sit up in the saddle. She let the animal slow to a shuffling walk. If he wanted his money, he would damn well have to come back and get them. Otherwise… Her brows knitted together. He had what little funds they possessed. But she had a horse, a disguise and a head start on whoever was…
It must have been the bright midday sun that suddenly sapped away the rest of her strength, for under normal conditions, she would never, ever, have slipped from the saddle.
When Caroline’s eyes fluttered open, she was lying by the side of the dirt cart path, her head resting on one of her saddlebags, the earl’s coat covering her from knee to chin. She turned her head slightly to avoid the glare and saw that Davenport was sitting beside her and staring off into the distance, a pensive look on his features.
By the set of his jaw and the tiny lines of strain etched at the corners of his eyes and mouth, it seemed to her that he was waging some sort of internal battle.
She studied his face carefully. It was a complex one, the emotions not easily readable as they were on someone less guarded, like her cousin Lucien.
Lud, she always knew whathewas thinking!
But what truly puzzled her was that even in catching Davenport off guard, she still saw no hint of the hardness, the cruelty so graphically depicted in the portrait that was hanging above his mantel. That was not something so easily hidden. The artist had seen it as the essence of the man, yet where was it in the flesh?
How could she miss such an obvious thing?
Davenport turned to her. “Awake, are you?”
She struggled to sit up. “I’m ready to…”
His hand caught her shoulder and kept her from rising. “Rest a little longer. We needn’t push on any harder today.”
“I won’t go back!”
He smiled briefly. “No, I don’t imagine you would. You are a very determined young lady.” He reached for the bottle of cider beside him and offered it to her.
“Groom,” corrected Caroline. She sat up and took a long swallow. It was tepid and flat, but it tasted wonderful. “Thank you.”
He nodded, suppressing another twitch of his lips.
Caroline turned her face to the sun and impulsively took off her cap and shook out her hair. It cascaded over her shoulders, glinting pale amber in the bright light.
“Mmmm,” she said softly, taking in the warmth. For a few minutes, she just lay there. When she looked back up at him, he was regarding her with brows drawn together, mouth compressed in a tight line.
“Why are you so angry with me?” she asked.
His features quickly composed themselves into an impassive mask. “What makes you think I’m angry with you?” As he spoke, his hand came up to rub at the thin white line on his cheek.
“You do that quite often, you know. How did you get that scar?” she added impulsively.
He stiffened.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I don’t mean to upset you any further. It’s just that if we are to be in each other’s company until London, I thought it might be possible to have a conversation. But if you would rather not…”
His breath came out in a sigh. “If you imagine it’s an interesting story, you are quite mistaken. I was merely engaged in a fencing match with my brother. The button on his foil must have come off. The point caught my cheek before either of us noticed what had happened.”
“Oh, he must have felt dreadful for cutting you so!”
