Page 9 of Pleasantly Pursued

“Are you her brother?”

Brother? Far from it. But something compelled me to tell this chit that I was. It was clever of Thea to give me such a title so she might avoid any rumors. “Yes, I am her brother.”

“She worried you would come for her after she was gone, so she gave me this to give to you.” The girl pulled a paper from her apron pocket and handed it to me. It was wet, the ink likely running. I unfolded it, grateful to find it written in pencil.

Brumley Livery.

The livery? Gads. She was bound to make me run all over the county. I looked up, catching the child’s hopeful look. I fished a coin from my pocket and placed it in her grubby hand. “Thank you. You’ve done both Mary and me a great service.”

She beamed.

Now to find the dratted waif I’d come here for.

Chapter4

THEA

Sleeping on a bed of straw was not nearly as comfortable as goats and cows made it look. By my second night on the ground in the Brumley livery, I was sore and achy in places I did not realize a body could ache. I was much too dirty to enter the Horse and Crown in search of Benedict, and I did not have enough funds to sleep or eat there.

I had not considered when I went into hiding that I would also be forfeiting my quarterly allowance, but I could not retrieve the money without informing my uncle or his solicitor of my whereabouts. Until Benedict had promised to keep me away from Lord Claverley, I was not willing to risk returning for anything.

Bless little Pippa and her sweet willingness to aid me. The new kitchen maid did not know me, but still she was willing to help. Without her supply of bread and extra vegetables from the Fullers’ garden, I would be half-starved by now.

I passed the day yesterday at the stream in the woods behind the livery, watching for Benedict’s return, but during the nights I crept inside the warm building to sleep in safety, and I was certain I looked a mess. Life as the daughter of an English ambassador had given me a certain toughness one usually acquired in a less luxurious lifestyle, or from the rigors of living and traveling abroad. While sleeping on a bed of straw was not my first choice, it was far better than the hammock I’d been forced to use in the captain’s quarters during my lonely return from Sweden. The captain’s wife had tried to make me comfortable, but there was only so much that could be done on a full ship.

I wasn’t sure how long I could sleep among the horses before being discovered, either. My fitful sleep had hardly been restful, needless to say.

The clopping of hooves drew my attention to the lane, and I jumped to my feet to see if I could discern the identity of the rider through the trees. Benedict’s familiar profile came into view, his posture tall and straight, his command on the horse unmistakable.

I never thought I would be glad to see him, but here we were.

My small valise was not too far away, tucked beneath a half-naked bush on the bank of the small stream. I retrieved it and set forth toward the livery. By the time I reached the door, I reminded myself to stand tall. I was not sneaking this time.

Benedict swung his leg over his horse outside the door and jumped to the ground. I called to him, and he looked up. Relief fell over his face when he spotted me, and my stomach did an odd flip.

He led his horse in my direction. “I wondered if I would find you again.”

I stepped back around the side of the building and waited in the shade, Benedict following. “Pippa gave you the note?” I asked.

“The kitchen maid? Yes. I paid her for the trouble.”

My chest gave a warm squeeze, and I scolded it.Not now, please. It would not do to humanize the flirt. “Are you prepared to leave?” I asked.

“Nearly. I need to retrieve the carriage and inform our driver that we are ready, which will take a little time.” He ran a hand over his jaw, the day’s stubble likely bristling against his palm. “I can come for you in the morning.”

In themorning? I faced another night on the straw-covered, mucky floor?

My nose wrinkled of its own volition. “I will not be able to . . . that is . . .” He watched me expectantly, but it was difficult for me to admit any vulnerabilities to the man. Depending on others did not come easily to me, and neither did asking for help. But in this case, I could not bear to sleep in the stables again. I squared my shoulders. “I do not have a place to sleep tonight.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Where did you sleep last night?”

“That is certainly none of your concern.” I would rather lay in the ice-cold stream and let it freeze me slowly than admit to Benedict that I slept among the horses and was forced to hide from the man who worked in the livery—twice. The rodents squeaking through the night had never made a visual appearance, but it was only a matter of time.

Benedict clenched his jaw. Voices within the livery drew our attention, and I moved further behind the building, Benedict following me with his horse in tow. He stopped far closer to me than he had been a moment before and his familiar spicy scent wafted on the breeze. For such a difficult man, he smelled divine. I knew I looked a mess. I only hoped I didn’t smell like horses, too.

He lowered his voice. “Where did you plan to sleep tonight?”

“In the carriage set for Chelton, to be honest.”

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