After long seconds in which Victoria knew better than to ask questions, he proceeded across the shallow water. They dismounted next to a lean-to that had been erected against a hillock to block the wind.
Thomas nodded toward the hut. “Go on while I get him settled with water and oats.”
Victoria wasn’t going to argue. Her legs shook, and her feet were numb. She fumbled with the latch, the kid of her gloves damp from the snow, her fingers clumsy from cold. It wasn’t much warmer inside the hut than outside, but she was thankful to be out of the wind.
Using her teeth, she pulled off her gloves and rubbed her hands together while her eyes adjusted. The outline of a lantern caught her eye. It had been left next to the door within arm’s reach. She was surprised to find it full of oil. A flint lay next to it.
Welcome light burst from the wick. It was amazing what comfort such a mundane convenience as light could be. She held up the lantern and took stock of her surroundings. It was a small but neat little hut. Wood was stacked next to the hearth, a sturdy table and two chairs were against the far wall, and a bed piled with quilts was in the corner.
One bed.
Her mouth was suddenly bereft of moisture. No doubt Thomas would offer to sleep in the chair or on the floor like a gentleman. But… what if she didn’t want him to be a gentleman?
She shoved the thought out of her head. They were on the run from men who had wanted to abduct her or worse. Her parents might be the next target, and she had no idea whether Garrick’s note had found her father in time to take precautions.
The existence of one bed in the cottage should not be her primary focus. Yet she was still staring at the bed when the door opened and knocked her in the back, startling her out of her daze. Clearing her throat, she shuffled farther into the cottage with the lantern.
Thomas stamped his feet and shivered. “Once I start a fire, we’ll warm up quickly.”
“I should have done that.” She refused to admit what had distracted her.
Thomas slid his great coat off, hung it on a peg next to the door, and squatted in front of the hearth, deftly laying wood and kindling. The crackle drew her closer, and she stood behind him, watching his big, capable hands limned in firelight as he tended the flame until it was a healthy blaze. Thomas rose and bumped her with his shoulder. She grabbed his arm to catch herself. The muscle was ropey with strength.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
“My fault. The two us will have to manage the best we can in the small space, I’m afraid.”
She slid her hand up his arm a few inches. While her physical balance was restored, the foundation of her neat, safe world had shifted. She should be safely in her room, her part in Eleanor and Lord Berkwith’s love affair over once and for all. If she hadn’t gone to the Bear and the Crown, the night would have passed like any other. She would have woken and begun packing for the sojourn to the house party, where her mother would expect her to settle on a suitable gentleman to wed.
The path of her life had diverged into a dark wood with a new companion.
“Thomas. My parents. Will they be safe?” She tilted her face to look him in the eyes, sure she would be able to detect truth from lie.
“Sir Hawkins is as wily and shrewd as any man I’ve ever met. Henry and Callum are well trained. I made sure of that. My note should have reached the right people in time. If there is a grander plot afoot, I have every confidence your father was given ample warning to avoid danger.”
“I know Father courts peril every day, but I’ve always felt safe. Until now. Was it all an illusion?”
“You have been safe,” he said vehemently and then sighed. “Until now. The French are growing desperate with each passing day. There are those in England sympathetic to Napoleon’s cause and others who have profited from the war and do not want peace. Sir Hawkins holds the keys to many secrets. He is valuable, and you would be an excellent bargaining chip.”
“Those men wanted me in order to force Father into betraying his country and mission?”
“It seems likely.” His expression turned thoughtful. “If they had wanted to kill you, it would have been a moment’s work to slip a knife between your ribs or slash your throat.”
She touched her neck and swayed. Her shock must have reflected on her face. How close had she come to dying this night?
“That was badly done of me. I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did. Never apologize for telling me the truth. I appreciate not being coddled.” The room was warming, and she slipped off her cloak and hung it on a peg next to Thomas’s. With her back to him, she asked, “What would Father have done if those men had succeeded in taking me? Would he have bowed to their demands?”
Thomas’s hesitation was answer enough. “Sir Hawkins is your father. The rest of us see him as something different altogether.”
“Even you?” She turned and regarded him with the same fascination and curiosity she’d always felt around him. “He saved you from the orphanage and educated you like the son he never had.”
“A son?” He laughed, but it was full of bitterness. “I had a father. A good one at that. I never wanted another.”
Chapter 5
Garrick had injured Victoria’s feelings. He could tell because he had been attuned to her reactions since she was a child. Her cheeks pinkened from more than the fire, and she bit her lip as her gaze slid away from his.
Victoria had been a complicated, charming girl, equally bold and tenderhearted. The first time he’d found her in his room, he’d assumed she was there to steal his meager belongings. Of course he’d quickly learned how ridiculous the notion was. While not rich in the way of some peers, Sir Hawkins was Midas in Garrick’s youthful eyes.
“I was so happy when Father brought you home.” The firelight emphasized the long curl of her lashes. “I hated being an only child.”
“I was never meant to be your brother. That’s not why your father plucked me from the orphanage.” He imparted the fact he’d accepted years ago as gently as he could.
“Why did he choose you?”
“I was a big, strong lad with a sharp mind. My mother was a vicar’s daughter and made sure I could read and do my sums. Sir Hawkins wanted to mold and train me into an effective weapon. He succeeded.”
She blinked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s no need to apologize. The orphanage was harsh, and I had to fight for every scrap. Still, it was better than being forced out onto the streets to eke out a living by pickpocketing or sweeping chimneys. Your father offered me a future and a purpose. I’m not complaining.”
“But you sounded so bitter before. Why?”
It was his turn to avoid her gaze, afraid she’d see straight into the heart of him. “Let’s see if we can put together a stew.”
He was sure she would forget about his feelings once the reality of their situation had a chance to set in. They would be spending the night in a one-room cottage with a single bed. He glanced to the pile of quilts before focusing on the larder.
“Won’t whoever lives here be upset if we use his firewood and eat his food?”
“This is a safe house.”