‘Are you walking? If you are, might I offer you a ride? My coach is parked on the street.’
It was an impulsive offer. She might be a dangerous criminal, although he doubted it. She didn’t seem the type but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a petty thief. To be honest, all signs did point in that direction. Giving her a ride could make him an accomplice.
Dashiell shrugged off the risk. He was Heathridge’s heir for goodness’ sake. No one was going to accuse him of anything. As for her, he couldn’t say. She might be accused of plenty.
He knew nothing about her. But wasn’t that the point? If he knew, he wouldn’t be offering.
His little thief stretched up and struggled to reach the latch. Dashiell reached over her and slipped the latch with ease, catching the scent of lavender on her skin. His little thief was clean and somewhat unpracticed. Not being able to reach the latch could have been potentially dangerous if she’d been chased. Surely a thief who premeditated leaving satchels in yards would have given more thought to her escape route.
‘You don’t know where I am going.’ She countered with another saucy toss of her head when he followed her through the gate. He’d wager those glossy tresses would be the shade of butter-cream in full-light. He felt his groin tighten at the prospect of those golden waves spread across a pillow.
‘Destination doesn’t matter. It’s either go with you or go back in there.’ It was a quickly derived conclusion based on the acquaintance of moments but it was the truth. She was clever, daring and she held the distinction of being the first woman he’d met in months that had no inkling of who he was. Of course, she was entirely unsuitable for anything more than a short adventure. This would be it, Dashiell decided in a flash of insight. She would be his last adventure before he settled down and did his uncle’s bidding.
Decision made, Dashiell felt a wide smile spread across his face. He’d committed. The game was thoroughly engaged. Now, he just had to convince her. He jerked his head back towards the house. ‘Frankly, given my choices, you seem like a lot more fun.’ He gave her a smouldering look that had yet to meet with any successful resistance.
The blond haired temptress eyed him with a touch of cynical contemplation but she was smiling. She was going to give in. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls.’
‘Only the pretty ones.’ Dashiell winked and held open the gate with a gallant gesture.
‘After you, miss. My carriage awaits.’
Elisabeth settled across from her unlooked for companion, her satchel on the seat beside her, It’s either go with you or go back in there. Those words had resolved her internal debate; those words and the fact that a very handsome man—even in the dim light she could tell he had looks aplenty-had said them to her, to Elisabeth Becket the social anomaly who’d managed to avoid a successful match in four Seasons despite her father’s dowry and her own good looks.
Such an occurrence was nearly as rare as her comet. Of course, he didn’t know who she was. That might have changed everything. But more than the words, he’d seemed genuine beneath his flirtatious flattery and impulsive offer. Lord knew he’d certainly been genuine beneath his clothes. The body she’d landed on had been lean muscle and sculpted planes beneath those evening clothes.
The import of what she was doing settled her: She was getting into a carriage and driving off with one of her mother’s dinner guests. There was a special peril in that. It relieved her to know she wasn’t riding off into the night with a complete stranger. He had made the Graybourne guest list, after all. But she was riding off with someone she might encounter in polite circles later and that brought a whole new danger to this escapade.
She should be more appalled at what she was doing, but the truth was, she wanted to go with him.
‘Was the party that bad?’ Elisabeth asked once they were under way. ‘Or are you accustomed to doing this often?’
It was hard to decide who was crazier: she for accepting a ride or him for offering one.
Maybe they both were. For all he knew, she was going to Scotland. For all she knew, he might be a ravager of women, her mother’s guest list notwithstanding.
The man across from her stretched out his long legs and crossed them at the ankles. ‘It wasn’t bad so much as it was boring.’ He gave a sigh that spoke volumes and in that moment Elisabeth felt she’d found a kindred soul. Then he gave voice to the very thoughts that had filled her own mind. ‘Every night, it’s always the same. I was in the mood for something different.’ He favoured her with a thoughtful smile that said he found her delightfully different. Plenty of men had found her different in the past, but not delightfully so.