Sixteen

SIXTEEN

Outside London

Three hours later – 21 December

Jack glanced down at Aubriella, fast asleep in his arms. The snow had stopped half an hour after they departed the inn. Though teeth-cracking cold outside, the journey hadn’t been as arduous as he’d expected. That was due, in part, to the Flemish horses Templeton had provided. Larger and stronger than typical horses, their endurance matched their big, gentle hearts.

Unnaturally subdued, Aubriella had eaten, and after he’d arranged for the mail coach drivers to deliver her and Miss Danforth’s luggage, she’d meekly allowed Jack to lift her onto his mount. His gun at his waist, he climbed into the saddle, then wrapped them both in the extra blankets Templeton had sent.

Across the circular courtyard, Tellinger did the same with Miss Danforth.

Both women had fallen asleep within minutes, and more than once on the trek to London, he’d caught Tellinger watching Miss Danforth just as Jack observed Aubriella.

Were his feelings as transparent as Tellinger’s?

Apparently not to the women they loved, who disdained them at every turn.

In a few minutes, Jack would awaken Aubriella. He had things he needed to say and would have her word that she wouldn’t pelt off again without telling him. Skimming his gaze over her winged eyebrows, the delicate flare of her sweet lips, and the slope of her cheeks, his heart swelled with love.

How could he not have known he loved her?

God above, when he’d entered the Boot and Crow and seen that behemoth looming over her, her face waxen and fraught with fright, Jack had wanted to kill the bloody cur. He’d also wanted to spank her for terrifying him by leaving without telling anyone and then kiss her tears away while begging her forgiveness for hurting her.

Instinct told him to tread cautiously when declaring himself to Aubriella. She probably wouldn’t believe him. His heart ached for her. She’d erected such a wall of protection around herself that he’d have to use all his wit and skill to tear down the ramparts.

Truth be told, Jack wasn’t certain he of his success, but by thunder, he would try.

She stirred as if sensing he gazed at her, and her eyelids fluttered open. It was impossible to read her expression in the dark, but he thought a smile might’ve bent her mouth.

“How long have I slept?” She yawned delicately behind her hand.

“About two hours, I think.” The fresh snow had made progress slow. He adjusted her on his lap so she sat more upright and gritted his teeth against the sensual onslaught the movement caused. “We are near London. You can see the lights in the distance. You should be home, tucked into your bed within the hour.”

An owl hooted, breaking the night’s stillness interrupted only by the plodding horses’ footsteps.

“Thank you, Jack.” Huskiness tinged her voice. “I don’t know what…”

“ Shh .” My darling . “You are safe now.” And I intend that you always shall be . Somehow, he must convince her of his love, and she must marry him.

“Why did you come after me?” She cupped his jaw with her gloved hand, and his heart swelled to bursting.

He barely resisted the urge to turn his head and press his lips into her palm. On the verge of declaring himself, he swallowed his vows of adoration and love. When he told Aubriella of his affection, it wouldn’t be while freezing atop a horse in the middle of the night when he couldn’t see her reaction.

Instead, he murmured, “With Emmet injured, I was the most logical person. Besides, I had to return to London. No sense disrupting the other house guests’ revelries.”

“Yes, I suppose you are right.” She angled her face away, but Jack would’ve sworn disappointment leached into her voice. “I’m sorry to be an inconvenience and to have detained you from your business.”

Stupid, senseless tears stung behind Aubriella’s eyes.

For a few timeless seconds, she’d thought Jack meant to say something entirely different. Lord, she’d wanted him to say something to convince her not to move to Aunt Astrid’s house. To persuade her that what Aubriella felt for him wasn’t one-sided—that she wouldn’t live out her days alone and misunderstood. An oddity who people whispered about behind hands and fans.

More fool her.

She craned her neck to see how Roxina fared.

Her friend still slept, slumped against Shelby’s chest.

Aubriella narrowed her eyes.

“How did Shelby know who the Cowen brothers were?” She didn’t bother facing Jack, since it was impossible to see his face. His heat warmed her back, beckoning her to lean against his solid strength, and his ironlike arm across her waist comforted her.

Jack stiffened for an instant, but after exhaling, he relaxed against her. “If I don’t tell you, you’ll simply ask him, won’t you?”

A reluctant grin tipped the corners of her mouth upward.

Jack knew her so well.

Better than anyone else, other than Roxina. “I shall.”

If only he could love her.

“There are many facets about Tellinger that he keeps private.” Jack’s thighs flexed beneath her bottom as the arm around her waist tightened minutely. “One of which is that he is a bounty hunter on occasion. A very good bounty hunter, and that is why the Cowens tucked their tails and fled. He’d likely seen their wanted posters. I’ve little doubt that he would have attempted to bring them in if you and Roxina hadn’t been present.”

“You don’t say?” Aubriella stretched her neck again to catch a glimpse of Shelby speaking in low tones to Roxina. “He doesn’t look like what I imagine a bounty hunter would look like. Not rough and burly and threatening.”

Jack chuckled, the warm resonance causing an answering peal in her heart. “It’s cliché, but appearances can be deceiving.”

“My da Vinci drawings are of human dissections.” Aubriella wasn’t sure why she blurted that secret to Jack. Perhaps to see his reaction. Mayhap because she wanted to share something so important with another person, and he was the only one who might understand her fascination with the human form.

Another chuckle vibrated his chest before he pulled her closer, and this time, she distinctly felt him nuzzle the back of her head through her bonnet.

A tiny seed of hope took root.

“You are the most fascinating, intriguing, remarkable, daring woman.”

She wrinkled her nose. Not the romantic declarations she yearned for. “I’m sure you meant those as compliments, Jack, but they make me sound like an eccentric old tabby.” She grinned at the image of herself, a wrinkled, bespeckled old prune hunched over naughty drawings. “Which I suppose I am.”

“An utterly delightful eccentric.” Amusement accented each syllable. “And assuredly not an old tabby.”

Jack had never disdained or disparaged her unusual interests.

The owl hooted again, or perchance it was another answering the first.

A cow, disturbed from her rest by their passing, mooed a low protest in the nearby meadow. The snow blanketing the fields and covering the houses like icing on pastries gave the landscape a fairytale-like appearance.

“You’ll need to pen a letter to your family to let them know you are all right,” Jack murmured in her ear, his warm breath causing a delicious little shiver to scuttle across her shoulders. “They were quite frantic.”

“That I find hard to believe.” Her sarcasm grated harshly in her ears. “That’s why I’m moving to the house my Aunt Astrid left me before they return. I’m tired of being an outsider—a misunderstood peculiarity—in my own home.”

That plan had not changed, despite the unexpected delay.

After resting for a few hours, Aubriella would pack her most cherished and necessary belongings. If Roxina still wanted to accompany her, they would depart before the sun dipped low on the horizon tomorrow.

“Promise me you won’t do anything until I call upon you.” Jack squeezed her ribs when she didn’t respond. “Please, Aubrie. I must check on the fire damage in one of my restaurants, but as soon as I have done so, I would like to speak with you about an important matter.”

Gasping, she gripped his forearm and twisted to look at him.

“Fire? Oh, Jack, that’s awful. Was anyone hurt?”

He hadn’t been trying to renege on their wager, as she’d believed. Nevertheless, the tragedy gave him an excuse to do just that.

“No one was injured, thank God. But I have to evaluate the extent of the damage.” A yawn escaped him. He must be exhausted.

“I don’t think there is any reason for me to delay my plans to move, Jack.” Neck bent, Aubriella stared at the shadowy landscape. “I’ve known for a while that I needed to do something different. Get on with my life. Forge a path for myself.”

It didn’t matter that she didn’t know precisely what her future looked like. But that was fine. She could anticipate the journey.

“We can talk about that when I call.” Jack nudged her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes in the darkness. “Please promise me, Aubrie.”

She hunched a shoulder. “I’ll give you until tomorrow afternoon, though I doubt anything you have to say shall change my mind.”

Unless it includes a vow of undying love and a marriage proposal.

If only such a marvelous thing were possible.

However, that was as likely as Mitchel Danforth becoming a monk or Francine Willoughby becoming a nun. And Aubriella was too pragmatic to indulge in fanciful dreams that would only lead to a broken heart.

They’d entered the outskirts of London, and a scraggly cat darted across the street. The city’s familiar stench surrounded them like heavy fog. Traffic had rid most of the street of thick snow, though the pavement was slick in places, and dirty snow mounds paralleled the lane’s sides.

“You have my word, Aubrie. Before the sun sets tomorrow, I shall knock upon your door.”

The horse snorted and swished its long tail—poor beast. It was probably just as weary as they were.

She sighed and fiddled with the horse’s mane. “I release you from your obligation to pose for me, Jack. I never should’ve asked that of you.”

Why did it feel as if Aubriella were saying goodbye to him, even though she’d vowed to wait a day before leaving? The pain impaling her heart hitched her breath, and she blinked away a fresh wave of stinging tears.

Unrequited love did indeed cleave one’s heart in two.

“I still want to know how you came by the information about Francine Willoughby.” No humor colored Jack’s words now. “I suspect I’ll not like the answer.”

“That’s why I shan’t tell you,” she quipped with far more light-heartedness than she felt.

He sighed, his breath tickling her neck.

“You still don’t trust me, Aubrie?”

How Aubriella wanted to, but she couldn’t.

Not with the Ladies of Opportunity . That must remain a secret.

Too much was at stake.