right now. It won’t make all that much difference. Now, you and I are going to
walk up to your bedchamber. You will say nothing. You won’t try to get away from
me. If you do, I will simply tell everyone you have succumbed to the illness
that destroyed my poor Caroline. Keep your mouth shut. Think of that dog of
yours, think of Flynt picking him up by his neck and wringing it off.”
“Bastard.”
“Yes, now you understand.”
There were no servants in evidence. I had prayed to see Brantley, at least, but
the Old Hall was empty.
As we neared The Blue Room, Lawrence said, “I have dismissed Belinda. She should
be at her mother’s house in the village by now. However, George is in your
bedchamber. You and he will wait for me. I will come to you later, never fear.”
He opened the door, shoved me in, then slammed the door in my face. I heard the
key grate in the lock.
Chapter Twenty-eight
The bitter winter wind burned my face and tore at my woolen cap. I leaned close
to Tempest’s neck to suck in the warmth of his steaming mane. His breathing was
becoming labored, his flanks lathered. I slowed him. I didn’t want him to
collapse. John wouldn’t be happy if I rode his prized stallion into the ground.
John. No, I wouldn’t think about him. I felt George moving about inside my cloak,
his little head right beneath my heart. Every once in a while, he licked me, and
my shirt was wet in that spot. I prayed he wasn’t too cold.
I guided Tempest off the road, into a copse of pine and maple trees, slid from
his back, and pulled the reins over his head. He tossed his head, flecks of foam
whirling from his mouth onto my gloves. The trees provided some protection from
the vicious wind. I had no choice but to put George on the ground, telling him
to stay close. He whimpered and pressed himself against my leg. “It will be all
right,” I told him. “Just give me a minute.” I rubbed down Tempest with his own
saddle blanket, then I spread it over him again to protect him as best I could
from the wind that sliced through the naked tree branches. I petted his neck and
pressed myself against his head. “Thank you, Tempest. John was wrong. You wouldn’t
throw me and George into a ditch. You are going to save our lives. My only
question is, though, why didn’t John take you with him to his damned Christmas
party with Lady Elizabeth? I nearly fell over my feet when I saw you in the
stables.”
He nickered softly, butted his head against my shoulder.
The wind billowed my cloak as I walked slowly back to the main road and peered
intently in the direction we had come. The pale slice of winter moon glittered
down on the empty expanse of road. A lone owl hooted on an oak limb now ten feet
away from me as I sank down to my knees in the bushes near Tempest and pressed
against the naked branches for warmth. A pain shot through my ankle. I sat back
quickly, pulled my legs from beneath me, and began to massage my ankle as best I
could through my boot. If only I had been luckier it wouldn’t have happened. But
I was carrying George belted against my middle and couldn’t very well use my dog
to break my fall.
I looked up at that small bit of a moon, so stark and white overhead. I patted
George’s silky topknot, and I remembered how such a short time before I had
stood in the middle of my bedchamber, staring at the locked door, listening to
Lawrence’s retreating footsteps.
George had bounded to his feet and run toward me. I caught him up and hugged him
tight. “We have a problem, my sweet Georgie. A very big problem, but at least
that madman has left us alone for a while, and that means, George, that you and
I are going to leave this place, somehow.”
Of course I knew what I had to do. I didn’t waste time pulling at the doorknob