“I’ll deal with Mr. Pope. I’ll hit him over the head if that’s what it takes, but we won’t be here long even if I persuade Pope.”
“The colonel will find us.”
“Exactly.”
She shifted. “I don’t see how he has any say over what I do. I am not his wife’s sister.”
Stratford had to admire her tenacity. “He is no more likely to let an unescorted lady go traipsing about the countryside than I am.”
“I will not be unescorted. I will have Loftus with me.”
The dog raised his head and looked at her. She smiled, reached over, and petted him. “That’s right. You know your name, don’t you?”
“Emmeline,” he began.
She held up a hand. “I do not want a lecture. My mind is made up.”
“Then you must tell your mother as much. You can’t run away from your problems. Believe me, I tried.” He didn’t know why he’d said that. He hadn’t meant to say it. And of course, now she was looking at him with those bluer than blue eyes.
“When you went into the army.”
“Most younger sons join the army or navy. That wasn’t running away. Joining a troop with a slate of suicide missions? That was running away.”
She blinked at him. “I always wondered if what I’d heard about Draven’s troop was an exaggeration. People say you were the best and the brightest.”
“And the most expendable. No heirs, only a few spares, and very few men with any family. We weren’t expected to live, and we were prepared to die.”
“I think you probably had something to do with bringing twelve of those men back.”
“We all played our parts. The point is my problems did not disappear while I was away. I came home and very little had changed.”
She shook her head. “You changed. I could see it the first time I saw you again. You were not as angry. You were more at peace—or perhaps you were looking for peace.”
How strange that she saw him so clearly. The war had driven the anger he’d always felt at the baron’s dismissal of him away. He’d stopped being defensive and looking for reasons to argue and began to appreciate solitude, peace, and simplicity. He’d always known anger hadn’t been logical, but now he could act on those beliefs and put the anger away.
She placed her hand on his arm, and he swore his skin burned through the layers of clothing. “Do you think you’ve found it?”
He looked into her eyes, and he couldn’t help but think that every time he’d ever looked at her, he’d found peace. And then he was moving without thinking. He was reaching for what he wanted, without a plan or a strategy or even the benefit of reason. His hand cupped the back of her neck. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t resist. And when he lowered his mouth to hers, what happened next was completely unexpected.
INES
“Miss Neves.”
Ines came awake suddenly and looked up. The room was shadowed, but there was enough of the fading early evening light left for her to see Mrs. Brown. Ines jumped to her feet. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, miss. I came to tell you Mr. Langford has finished. You can go in and see Mr. Murray, if you like.”
Ines gripped Mrs. Brown’s arms. “He’s alive?”
“Yes, of course. He’s awake too and asking for food.”
Ines felt her knees buckle, and she had to sit back down. She hadn’t killed him. She wouldn’t spend the rest of her life punishing herself for his death. She began to rise again and then realized that it was still early. He might still develop a fever and die. But she couldn’t allow that to happen. She would do everything she could to keep him from taking a fever. She stood. “I need to see him, Mrs. Brown.”
“That’s why I came to fetch you, Miss Neves.”
Ines followed Mrs. Brown to the parlor, taking a deep breath before stepping inside. Then she squared her shoulders, opened her eyes, and put on a smile. She walked into the parlor and smiled in earnest. Duncan Murray really did look better. He was sitting up, the blanket pulled mid-chest, with a clean bandage around his arm. His color was better, and he was arguing with the surgeon.
“My father and my grandfather both drank whisky for everra ailment. Everra Scotsman kens whisky can cure anything.”
“I am not a Scotsman, Mr. Murray,” Mr. Langford said, “but I maintain you have had enough to drink and would be better sticking to tea or broth.”
“Christ and all the saints! The man is trying tae kill me.” He noticed Ines and pointed to her. “That makes two of ye.”
Ines ignored the reference to her brother-in-law. “How is he, Mr. Langford?”
“See for yourself, miss. We revived him a bit with a tonic, but he will need plenty of rest the next few days.”
“I am not certain that is possible, senhor. Mr. Pope has said we must be out of his house in the morning.”
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Brown said.
“Should I speak with the man? Mr. Murray should not be traveling, if it can be avoided.”
“It will do no good,” Mrs. Brown said.
“I, for one, dinnae want tae be shot again. He’ll aim for the heid this time,” Murray said. “If we had a coach, I’d leave tonight.”
Ines rubbed the throbbing spot between her brows. “But we do not have a coach, senhor.”
“We’ll leave it tae Stratford. We’ll need two coaches. One tae take ye and Miss Wellesley back tae London, and one tae take me tae Scotland.”
Langford, who had lifted his surgeon’s bag, set it back on the table. “You cannot possibly be proposing that you travel alone to Scotland, sir. You shouldn’t be traveling at all, much less halfway across the country.”
“I will go with him,” Ines said.
“No,” Murray said even before the words were out of her mouth. “I’ll order Stratford tae take ye home.”
Ines put her hands on her hips. “You may give all the orders you like, senhor, but I will see you home safely. It is my fault you are injured, and it will be my fault if you die on the way to Scotland.”
Murray furrowed his brow as though she were speaking in Portuguese again. Langford lifted his bag. “Well, I see that is settled then. Miss Neves, if I might have a moment of your time, I will instruct you on how best to change the bandages and clean the wound.”
She went with the surgeon, listened to his instructions, and gave him her assurances she would do exactly as he’d specified.
“I am trusting you with him, Miss Neves. He feels much improved now, but he will need your help for the next day or so. The wound is fairly minor, but even a small wound can become infected and fever may set in. If that happens—”
“I am to take him to a doctor immediately. I understand, senhor.”
The surgeon looked about, his kind eyes sharpening on the dilapidated entryway. “I always wondered what it looked like inside the great house,” he said, almost to himself. “It’s a shame, isn’t it?” He cleared his throat. “I am aware it is vulgar to speak of payment, but I do not suppose I will receive any response if I send my bill to Mr. Pope. Could you direct me to someone who might be able to pay for my services?”