meats, cheeses, breads, and fruit, before taking a seat and relieving him of his ignorance.
“I discovered from my maid that before we spoke last evening, you’d already given orders we were to leave at six o’clock.” Caro’s hand shook, apparently with anger, as she took the tea-pot, then set it back down. “What would you have done had I disagreed?”
So that was it. He should have realized she’d find out. He picked up the pot and poured her a cup. “I would have tried to talk you around to my way of thinking, and if that didn’t work, I’d have tried to come to an agreement with you.”
Caro glanced down at the cup and added milk and sugar; when she looked up again, the lines around her mouth had softened. “Thank you for not lying to me.”
His brows shot up. Lie? “What reason would I have to lie to you?”
She took so much time spreading cheese on a piece of bread, he was uncertain if she would answer him.
Still attending to her bread, she replied, “In my experience, men lie.”
For at least the tenth time since they’d started on this journey, Huntley wished he knew what had happened to her. The only thing he was sure of was that a man was involved. She was two and twenty, and she’d been with his aunt for five years. She must have been just out when it happened.
“You’re welcome. I should’ve told you last night. But when you agreed with me, I didn’t think it necessary.” He peeled a boiled egg. “If you wish to leave later, I am happy to accommodate you. Though I would like to be as far away from Venice as possible when di Venier discovers we’ve gone.”
She nodded tightly. “No, we shall leave as soon as we may.”
Willing himself to remain in his seat and not go to her, he pretended not to notice how pale she’d become when he mentioned the marchese, and went back to the egg. “As soon as I finish this, I’ll ensure the coach is ready.”
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, he walked out to the inn’s yard to see the bags being strapped on to the coach. “Is that all of it?”
Caro’s groom, Dalle, an older, wiry man, pulled a strap. “That’s everythin’ going on the outside. Miss Nugent has her ladyship’s jewel box and another bag.”
“Very well, as soon as Lady Caro is ready, we’ll leave.”
Dalle closed one eye and stared at him. “Suits me jus’ fine. Sooner we get her away from here the better.”
Huntley nodded and turned back to the inn, then stopped. “What was your mistress like before she left England?”
The groom rubbed his chin, clearly thinking over how much about Caro he should tell Huntley. “Full of fun and gig she was.” The groom gave him a hard stare. “Wouldn’t like to see her hurt again. If you know what I mean.”
Huntley felt like grinding his teeth. He wished to hell he did know. “Then let’s get her out of here before anyone catches up with us.”
He’d not long to wait before Caro and her maid came down the stairs.
Nugent curtseyed. “My lord. We’re ready to go.”
Dalle came around to help Nugent into the coach and put the two bags she carried under the seat. Huntley handed Caro in. He climbed up after she’d settled her skirts. As soon as the door was closed, the coach lurched to a start, and the coachman kept the team well up to their bits.
Huntley lounged on the seat, with his back to the front, and watched Caro while she slept. She seemed so peaceful in repose, like an angel. His heart ached for her and maybe for himself as well. What a fix to be in, having to leave her home in the company of a man she could barely tolerate. Never mind the marchese, Huntley didn’t want to consider what would happen if they ran in to anyone they knew.
Nugent sat upright, holding what he assumed to be the jewel box. Occasionally her eyes closed and she jerked awake again. She’d have made a decent picket.
Two days later, Caro peeped out from beneath her lashes and found the source of the warmth that had awoken
“I discovered from my maid that before we spoke last evening, you’d already given orders we were to leave at six o’clock.” Caro’s hand shook, apparently with anger, as she took the tea-pot, then set it back down. “What would you have done had I disagreed?”
So that was it. He should have realized she’d find out. He picked up the pot and poured her a cup. “I would have tried to talk you around to my way of thinking, and if that didn’t work, I’d have tried to come to an agreement with you.”
Caro glanced down at the cup and added milk and sugar; when she looked up again, the lines around her mouth had softened. “Thank you for not lying to me.”
His brows shot up. Lie? “What reason would I have to lie to you?”
She took so much time spreading cheese on a piece of bread, he was uncertain if she would answer him.
Still attending to her bread, she replied, “In my experience, men lie.”
For at least the tenth time since they’d started on this journey, Huntley wished he knew what had happened to her. The only thing he was sure of was that a man was involved. She was two and twenty, and she’d been with his aunt for five years. She must have been just out when it happened.
“You’re welcome. I should’ve told you last night. But when you agreed with me, I didn’t think it necessary.” He peeled a boiled egg. “If you wish to leave later, I am happy to accommodate you. Though I would like to be as far away from Venice as possible when di Venier discovers we’ve gone.”
She nodded tightly. “No, we shall leave as soon as we may.”
Willing himself to remain in his seat and not go to her, he pretended not to notice how pale she’d become when he mentioned the marchese, and went back to the egg. “As soon as I finish this, I’ll ensure the coach is ready.”
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, he walked out to the inn’s yard to see the bags being strapped on to the coach. “Is that all of it?”
Caro’s groom, Dalle, an older, wiry man, pulled a strap. “That’s everythin’ going on the outside. Miss Nugent has her ladyship’s jewel box and another bag.”
“Very well, as soon as Lady Caro is ready, we’ll leave.”
Dalle closed one eye and stared at him. “Suits me jus’ fine. Sooner we get her away from here the better.”
Huntley nodded and turned back to the inn, then stopped. “What was your mistress like before she left England?”
The groom rubbed his chin, clearly thinking over how much about Caro he should tell Huntley. “Full of fun and gig she was.” The groom gave him a hard stare. “Wouldn’t like to see her hurt again. If you know what I mean.”
Huntley felt like grinding his teeth. He wished to hell he did know. “Then let’s get her out of here before anyone catches up with us.”
He’d not long to wait before Caro and her maid came down the stairs.
Nugent curtseyed. “My lord. We’re ready to go.”
Dalle came around to help Nugent into the coach and put the two bags she carried under the seat. Huntley handed Caro in. He climbed up after she’d settled her skirts. As soon as the door was closed, the coach lurched to a start, and the coachman kept the team well up to their bits.
Huntley lounged on the seat, with his back to the front, and watched Caro while she slept. She seemed so peaceful in repose, like an angel. His heart ached for her and maybe for himself as well. What a fix to be in, having to leave her home in the company of a man she could barely tolerate. Never mind the marchese, Huntley didn’t want to consider what would happen if they ran in to anyone they knew.
Nugent sat upright, holding what he assumed to be the jewel box. Occasionally her eyes closed and she jerked awake again. She’d have made a decent picket.
Two days later, Caro peeped out from beneath her lashes and found the source of the warmth that had awoken
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