“And yet you are immensely likeable,” he teased her.
“According to Mr. Landish, I am odd.”
“Why does Mr. Landish think you’re odd?”
“He said I was one of those devilishly tricky well-read females no man would ever want as a wife.”
“I may have to seek him out on your behalf when we get back to London and explain that his views are wrong,” Rory said. “In fact, many men like well-read females.”
“I told him that he was one of those devilishly dimwitted men whose only contribution to a conversation was how short in the hocks a horse is.”
“How did he take that?” Rory could do nothing to stop his smile. There was just something about Ivy that made him happy… even when he was angry with her. Which made no sense to anyone but him, so he’d keep that thought to himself too.
“His face turned red and he looked like he was close to apoplexy, so I walked away.”
He tried to muffle the laugh, but it came out as a snort.
“So you see, I am not an easy female to manage.” Her eyes were solemn.
“How do you know I am an easy man to manage? Plus, I have no wish to manage you, Ivy.”
“Oh.” She turned away, completely misunderstanding what he’d said.
“I like you as you are, Ivy.”
“Really?” She turned back, smiling.
“Really.”
Her eyes widened as she looked over his shoulder.
“Rory, men!”
From behind them, five men were approaching. Rory could not outrun them, and if he tried, they could be shot. He thought furiously as he pulled his pistol from his boot. What to do? Had they followed them from London, sent by Madam Layla? He looked down at the woman in his arms. They would not get her; he’d do whatever it took to keep her safe. Because she may not know yet that this was love, but he did.
“Mr. Haddon!”
“That’s a relief, it’s Lord Trockler,” Ivy said.
“Gentlemen.” Rory turned his horse and waited for them to draw near. Wrapping an arm around Ivy’s waist, he held her close.
“It’s just Lord Trockler, Rory.” Her hand patted his.
There was no “just” about it, Rory thought, looking at the nobleman. He remembered Jackson saying the man had offered his country house to them for Christmas. Could Trockler be under Madam Layla’s control also? He couldn’t discount it.
“You’re squeezing me tight, Rory—”
“Be still,” he whispered in her ear. “I can’t be certain, but it is possible Lord Trockler is close with Madam Layla.”
“Surely not?”
“We need to play along, Ivy, until we are sure. Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
“Do what they say for now, but stay alert.”
“I will.”
“Lord Trockler, how lovely to see you,” Rory said. If they were to play this part well, they needed to act as if nothing was out of the ordinary. “What has you out here in this weather?”
“My estate is not far from here, Mr. Haddon. We have been checking on the tenants. My grooms are keeping me company. What about you, Miss Redfern? Why are you with Mr. Haddon, alone?”
The man was scared. It was there in his face, all the signs that he was nervous. Rory had no idea where Trockler’s estate was but doubted it was nearby. Things were not adding up, and that confirmed to him that Trockler was in league with Madam Layla.
“Our carriage wheel broke, so we have sent my aunt and Jackson on, and we are attempting to find someone to fix it.” Ivy’s voice sounded normal, but her body was tense. Her fingers were clutching the ones he held the reins with. “We are to spend time at Greystone with Mr. Haddon and his family over Christmastide. He took me up before him as it was too cold to stay and wait.”
“Oh, well, I can help you there.” Lord Trockler’s smile was tight. “Come along, we’ll head back to the estate, and I will have one of my men fix it.”
“That would be wonderful, as my driver will be cold, as will the horses,” Ivy said.
“Follow us, then.”
There was little he could do for now, so Rory urged his horse in behind the men. Two of them then dropped back behind his horse, hemming them in.
“Stay alert,” he whispered in Ivy’s ear again. Her only answer was to squeeze his fingers.
They wouldn’t harm her. He’d do everything in his power to ensure that they had a long, happy future together, no matter what it took.
Chapter Sixteen
Ivy hoped Rory was wrong. Hoped that in fact Lord Trockler was a good man, and he was not under Madam Layla’s control.
“Not much farther now!” the nobleman called from up ahead.
“Do you think if Lord Trockler is in league with Madam Layla, he had something to do with the carriage wheel breaking?” Ivy whispered.
“I’m not sure something like that could be planned. But I would say they have followed us from London, if indeed Trockler is the enemy.”
Ivy didn’t want anything to happen to her, but the thought of Rory being harmed in any way made panic claw at her insides.
Rory would do what it took to keep her safe, she knew that, and yet he was one man, as she was one woman. They were outnumbered.
“I don’t want anything to happen to you, Rory.”
He leaned closer, his cheek now pressed to hers. “I don’t want anything to happen to you either, Ivy.”
“We have to get out of this.”
“We don’t know Lord Trockler’s intent yet, Ivy.”
“And yet you believe it is bad, don’t you, Rory?”
“I do.” He whispered the words in her ear.
They turned into a driveway and rode along that for a while. At the end was a large stone house.
“I had no idea you kept a place here, Lord Trockler,” Rory said.
“It’s one of a few I have. I come here when I want to be alone,” Trockler said, dismounting. He wasn’t looking at Rory or Ivy, but the house. “I will have someone sent to fix your carriage at once and bring it here to collect you. Come along, we shall go inside and warm up while we wait.”
Rory dismounted, then held up his hands to Ivy. She slid into his arms, and he held her briefly, allowing her to gain courage from his strength.
“Find a place to freshen up, then escape if you can,” Rory whispered. “Find where the horses are and go for help.”
“I won’t leave you. Besides, we don’t know if Lord Trockler is bad or not.”
“Think, Ivy. He came to ask your family to stay with him for a few days. Has he ever done so before, and while his wife is away?”
He had her there.
“You will escape, because it may be the only way we get out of this.” He gripped her fingers tight.
They were ushered into the house and into a small parlor, and the tension inside her grew. What would happen now? Was Lord Trockler intent on harming them?
“My lord, I wonder if I could freshen up?” Ivy said.
“Of course. Haddon and I will take brandy while we await your return.”
She was shown to a room on the second floor. There was a key in the lock that she turned. Hurrying to the window, Ivy opened it. She was at the back of the house and could see the stables. But how did she get down to the ground from here? What if she was overreacting? What if Rory was wrong and Lord Trockler wasn’t intent on harming them?