She handed the bottles to Stratford, who looked at them, and then stowed them in the coach with the wicker basket. The horses pawed the ground, and Duncan wondered if Nash was priming his pistol right then. The ladies and Stratford conversed with the coachman a bit longer and then finally Ines and Miss Wellesley climbed into the coach, followed by the dog. Stratford walked back to Duncan.
“Ye lost that battle, I see,” Duncan said, inclining his head toward the coach. Stratford offered his hand and pulled Duncan up.
“I lost the battle but not the war. I need a new strategy.”
“Aye, well perhaps ye can devise one while the dog breathes in yer face all the way tae Scotland.”
Stratford gave him a disgruntled look. “No wonder Nash shot you.”
Ten
INES
An hour into the trip, Murray had fallen asleep. Ines watched him struggle to keep his eyes open, but he was clearly still fighting to regain his strength after the loss of blood and the injury he’d sustained. Ines and Emmeline sat on one side of the coach and the gentlemen sat on the other. The dog lay on the floor between them.
Mr. Fortescue tried several times to shift Murray’s weight back toward the door, but the big Scot continued to slide toward Fortescue until his head rested on the other man’s shoulder. Ines could imagine that head on her shoulder, or better yet, in her lap.
“Shall we trade places, senhor?” she asked Mr. Fortescue.
“I’m fine,” he said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Very well,” she said, trying not to show her disappointment. Then to her surprise, Emmeline spoke up.
“There’s barely enough room there for the two of you, Stratford. Miss Neves is small and will not be troubled by Mr. Murray. You will be more comfortable next to me.”
Fortescue looked like he would argue, but then the Scot snuffled and burrowed closer, and he pushed the man over and rapped on the coach roof. He called for the driver to stop for a moment as they would need to step out of the conveyance in order to change places. The dog made it difficult to maneuver inside the vehicle.
A few moments later, Ines settled beside Murray, who had not even opened his eyes when the coach stopped. He slid closer to her until his head lolled onto her shoulder. At which point, she lowered his head into her lap and stroked the hair off his face.
He was not a traditionally handsome man. His features were too stark, his expressions too fierce. He usually needed a shave and a haircut. She was almost sorry he had shaved this morning, as she liked to imagine shaving him and running her hands through his hair. She didn’t know what it was about him that had made her knees weak even the very first time she saw him. He always had a wild look about him, except his eyes. Those amber eyes were calm and full of humor. And when he looked at her with those beautiful eyes, her legs began to tremble every time.
Of course, he would never look at her the way she looked at him. To him, she was Benedict Draven’s responsibility. But before she had to go back to her predictable life in London and the tedious men her sister introduced her to, Ines would have her PED. She would kiss one man who truly excited her. She could survive years on the exhilaration of that kiss. She could wait until she was one and twenty or so, and then her sister would have to allow her more freedom and to relocate above the lace shop.
Ines could almost feel the liberty of such a relocation now. She could come and go as she pleased and would not have to answer to anyone. She could stay up all night, eat nothing but sweets, take a secret lover. And perhaps when she had tired of that life, at the ripe old age of thirty, she would marry. She’d have a huge romantic wedding in one of the old churches. She’d wear a beautiful dress, and her wedding breakfast would be a lavish event. Her husband would adore her, would do anything for her.
Ines had watched her mother suffer through life with a man who found any reason to beat her. She’d lived fourteen years in a home where if she said the wrong word or looked the wrong way, she too might be beaten. She did not need to wonder why her sisters had not argued when their father had married them to old, ugly men. They were happy to escape one hell, although in some cases their husbands were no better than their father. Ines had once asked Catarina why their mother had not left their father.
“Where would she go?” Catarina had asked. “With seven little girls and no money? Anyone she asked for help would return her to her husband. Once a woman marries, she becomes the property of the man. She cannot escape.”
Far from making Ines wary of marriage, the conversation had made her all the more determined to marry the right man, a man who loved her and would do anything for her.
“I’m surprised Colonel Draven has not caught up to us yet,” Mr. Fortescue said after a long silence.
Speaking of men who would do anything for their wife. Ines sighed, thinking of her brother-in-law. “It is not for lack of trying, I am certain,” Ines answered. “But when Benedict does find me, I will simply tell him to go home.”
“And you think he will listen, Miss Neves?” Fortescue asked.
She shrugged. “No, he will protest and argue, but I shall ignore him. I am determined to see Scotland now. I am determined to see more of England.” Passion, excitement, and danger. “I have seen only London. That seems criminal, does it not, senhor?”
He made a non-committal sound, and Emmeline put a hand on his arm. “No one will try to force you to take a side, Stratford. Ines, I find that I would like to see Scotland as well. I have never been further north than Cumbria.”
“God help me,” Fortescue mumbled and closed his eyes.
Emmeline leaned forward conspiratorially. “He has not yet found a strategy he can use on me. I outwit him every time.” Looking pleased with herself, Emmeline closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushion. Ines stared out of the window at the passing green fields and wondered at the lives of the laborers they passed.
It was full dark by the time the coachman stopped for the night. Ines appreciated his determination to put as much distance between them and Mr. Pope as possible. She knew it would still be days before they reached Murray’s home, but at least they were making progress. Murray had been awake the last several hours. He’d seemed surprised to wake with his head on her lap, and then horrified. He moved away from her as quickly as if she were a viper.
He’d said very little to her that last leg of the trip. He and Fortescue had reminisced about the war, and Ines had been shocked that the men had seemed to be in so much danger. Catarina had said that Draven’s troop was a select group of men chosen for their skills to conduct dangerous missions that would ultimately bring down Napoleon Bonaparte. But she had not realized that so many of the troop had died or that both Fortescue and Murray had narrowly avoided death themselves. This revelation made it all the stranger that Murray had not been able to find a bride in London. He was a war hero. Many women should want to marry a hero.
But then she did not always understand the English.
Fortescue went inside the inn where they stopped to secure two rooms for the night, while Ines, Emmeline, Murray, and the dog waited in the coach. Finally, the arrangements were made, and Fortescue helped the women down from the coach. After a full day of riding and only brief stops to change horses, Ines’s legs were wobbly. She walked stiffly then stumbled when she stepped on a horseshoe in the yard. But before she could fall on her face, Murray caught her about the waist and hauled her back up against his chest.