The Heiress Effect (Brothers Sinister #2)(83)

“Is there an inn nearby?” she asked. “Are we stopping for the night?”

“Eventually,” Dorling snapped.

She yawned again and peered out the window. Silhouettes of big, knotty oaks flew past. She tried counting trees. At forty-seven, the carriage stopped—which surprised her, as there was no evidence of civilization nearby.

“What are we doing?” Jane asked.

But Dorling looked just as confused as she felt. He shook his head and gestured her back.

A few moments later, the carriage door opened. The driver was a dark, cloaked silhouette in the doorway.

“Is there a problem?” Dorling asked.

“Aye,” he responded. “One of the horses has gone lame.” The man had a broad farm accent. Jane wondered, idly, if he was bribable. There was still that roll of bills strapped to her thigh.

“God damn it.” Dorling’s nostrils flared. “Of all the times… What is wrong with you, man, that your horses go lame? This shouldn’t be happening. Now what are we going to do?”

The driver shrugged. “Come take a look.”

Dorling glanced over at Jane. “I’m not sure.”

The driver shrugged again. “Give it to me, then. I’ll watch her. You go see.” Dorling handed over the pistol and stepped out of the carriage. But the driver didn’t follow him immediately. He turned in the doorway, and then, very carefully, raised a finger to his lips.

Jane let out a breath. “Oliver,” she whispered.

“Shh. A moment longer.”

“God damn it,” Dorling’s voice came again. “One of the beasts has a stone in its hoof. I don’t think it can walk at the moment. Now what are we going to do? Do you have any idea how bloody inconvenient this is?”

Oliver turned to the man. “Yes,” he said in his normal voice, “I do. Because I hadn’t planned on riding double back to town.”

There was a long pause. “What?’ Dorling asked.

“Riding double,” Oliver said. “You would not believe how fortuitous your appearance was. I was looking for transportation, and there, just outside the hall, was a man who had transportation—transportation that I knew he wouldn’t be needing. Imagine my delight.” He shook his head. “It was a good thing I managed to make another arrangement with the driver.”

“I don’t understand,” Dorling said. “Who are you?”

“I had planned to jettison you a little farther from civilization, but this will have to do. Stay with the cart, and the driver will come pick you up mid-afternoon tomorrow. You’ll be back in Nottingham by night, which I presume will give us enough time.” Oliver walked to the back and began to rummage in the boot. “There are blankets and wine and some spare food back here, so you won’t be too uncomfortable.”

“You can’t make me! I have a—” He started to brandish his empty hand and then stared at it.

“Yes.” Oliver’s voice came from behind the carriage. “A little advice: Next time you try an abduction, don’t give your weapon to someone you don’t know.”

Jane smirked.

“This is outrageous!” Dorling said. “Who are you, and what have you done with my cart driver?”

Oliver came back from the boot carrying a saddle. “Jane, I’m sorry to say that we’re going to have to ride double. Are you game?”

Jane found herself smiling. “How did you know? How did you do this?”

“Simple,” he said. “I told you you weren’t alone. Did you really think I would leave you?”

She didn’t know what to say. She just shook her head and watched him saddle the horse. It was the first time she’d ever seen him do anything physical, and he did it so swiftly and so smoothly that she was reminded that he’d grown up on a farm. He could argue politics and rescue impossible girls and saddle a horse with equal ease.

She’d spent months thinking about him. Thinking about what she might have said to him if only she’d been brave enough.

She wouldn’t let it go unsaid much longer.

“We don’t have much time,” he said, “but it will be enough.” He mounted the horse, and then held out his hand to Jane. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Wait,” she said. “The weapon, if you please.”

He held it out to her without asking. Jane turned, and Dorling’s face went white. “Please,” he said. “Don’t… You don’t need to…”

Jane rolled her eyes. “Oh, stop blubbering. I want my five hundred pounds back.”

“But it means nothing to you! To me, it would be…”

“Yes,” Jane said. “I know what it would mean to you.” She pointed the pistol directly at his forehead. “That’s why I want it back.”

Two people, both in evening dress, could not ride comfortably on one horse. Oliver cinched his arm around Jane for the fifteenth time in four minutes and shifted in the saddle behind her.

Jane’s skirts flapped voluminously in the breeze. Something sharp and protuberant in her skirts jabbed his thigh. And the beads sewn into her gown were itchy and uncomfortable.

Still, it wasn’t wholly awful. After all, Jane was warm and soft, and it was all too easy to breath in the scent of her. She smelled of familiar soap.