A Week to Be Wicked (Spindle Cove #2)(26)

For once, Colin found himself without words. The best he could do was take her advice and hoist his dropped jaw.

An air of determination settled on her. The curves of her face became decisive angles. “That’s it. I’m going to Edinburgh, with or without you.”

“What? You mean to travel almost five hundred miles alone? No. I can’t let you do that. I . . . I forbid you.”

It was Colin’s first attempt at forbidding anyone to do anything, and it worked about as well as he’d expected it to. Which was to say, not at all.

She sniffed. “Stay here and marry Diana if you must, but I won’t be a party to it. I can’t simply stand by and watch.”

“God, is that all that’s worrying you?” He put his hands on her shoulders to make sure she was paying attention. “I won’t marry Diana. I never had any plan to marry Diana. I’ve been trying to tell you as much for days.”

She stared at him. “Truly?”

“Truly.”

The distant rumble of hoofbeats and carriage wheels shook the ground. As they stared at each other, it gathered strength.

“That’ll be the coach,” she said.

Colin glanced down the road. Yes, here it came. The moment of decision.

“Come now,” he said. “Let me help you take your things back to the rooming house.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Min—”

“No. I can’t go back. I just can’t. I left a note, saying we’ve eloped. By now, they’re probably awake and reading it. I can’t be the girl who cried ‘elopement.’ The pathetic thing who gathered all her hopes and packed three trunks, and went out to stand at the road at dawn only to slink back home defeated and hopeless. My mother would . . .” She drew a deep breath, stood tall, and lifted her chin. “I just can’t be that girl anymore. I won’t.”

As he watched her, Colin was visited by the strangest feeling, unfurling warm and buttery inside him. It was a sense of privilege and mute wonder, as though he’d witnessed one of those small, everyday miracles of spring. Like a licked-clean foal taking its first steps on wobbly legs. Or a new butterfly pushing scrunched, damp wings from a chrysalis.

Before his eyes, she’d transformed into a new creature. Still a bit awkward and uncertain, but undaunted. And well on her way to being beautiful.

Colin scratched his neck. He wished there were someone nearby he could turn to and say, Would you look at that?

“You truly want this,” he said. “It means that much to you.”

“Yes.” Her eyes were clear and unblinking.

“If we embark on this journey, there’s no going back.”

“I know.”

“And you comprehend all the implications. Everything you’ll put at risk. Hell, everything you’ll outright sacrifice, the moment you leave with me?”

She nodded. “I’m exchanging my acceptance in fashionable society for standing within the Royal Geological Society. I understand this perfectly, and I think it a rather good trade. You told me to think of myself, Colin. Well, I’m doing just that.”

Turning from him, she popped up on her toes and waved her arms, signaling the coachman. “Stop! Stop, please!”

He stood by and watched her desperate gesticulations, absurdly enchanted by them. Good for you, pet. Good for you.

As the carriage rolled to a halt, she reached for her smallest trunk. She looked to him, smiling. “Last chance. Are you coming or aren’t you?”

Chapter Seven

The road to London was dusty, rutted, bumpy, and miserable.

And Minerva rejoiced in every passing mile.

That was to say, she rejoiced quietly, and without moving so much as a muscle. She hadn’t any space to move at all.

Inside the coach, they were packed four to a seat. Two more passengers shared space with the driver. Minerva was almost afraid to count how many people rode atop the carriage. From her view through the carriage window, their legs hung down like stalactites. Beyond them, she caught the occasional glimpse of Colin, riding on horseback alongside the coach. She envied him the fresh air and freedom of movement.

But all in all, she was thrilled. The agonized decisions and frantic preparations were behind her, and now she could simply bask in the exhilaration of having done it. After spending all of her girlhood fervently wishing she could run away from home—she’d actually done it. And this wasn’t a childish dash into the forest with a hastily packed picnic basket and petulant note reading simply, “Adieu.” This journey had serious, professional significance. It was practically a business trip.

This morning, she’d taken her life into her own hands.

But she was glad she wasn’t making the journey alone.

When they stopped to rest or change horses, Colin excelled at playing the attentive, would-be bridegroom. He stayed by her side and looked out for her in small ways, such as procuring their refreshments or keeping a watchful eye on her trunks. He made a point of touching her often. Subtly laying a hand to her elbow, handing her into the coach.

She knew the touches weren’t for her pleasure or his, but for the benefit of those around them. Those small physical cues made a point. Every time he touched her, he said without words, This woman is under my protection.

And every time he sent that message, she felt a little thrill.