“It’s exactly the place for me.”
The coachman had drawn the vehicle to a stop. Sir Richard stepped out, dressed for making social calls in Mayfair. “Miss Trim, you decided to join us?”
“Only briefly,” James bit out. “She’s returning to Fentonwyck.”
“No, she’s not,” Nell responded coolly.
Lady Harmsworth’s head appeared from the window and she waved. “Miss Trim!”
James cast Nell a disgusted look. “I could take you.”
She smiled with false sweetness that he should read as a warning. “Tied to your saddle?”
His jaw became harder than granite. “If necessary.”
“And once you get me there, how will you make me stay? Leash me in the stable like a dog?”
He grumbled low in his throat. She glanced at Lord Hillbrook, who stared fixedly across the wild country rising on either side of the lonely road. She suspected that he was trying not to laugh. She returned her attention to the man she loved—and right now wanted to push onto his well-bred backside.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he muttered.
“It’s a long way back, Leath,” Sir Richard pointed out. He didn’t hide his amusement nearly as well as Hillbrook did.
“I can catch you up,” he said.
“And I can follow again,” Nell said. “I don’t even need to follow. I read the blackmail letter. I know you’re going to Berkshire.”
“It will be dangerous.” He nudged his horse closer, his words for her ears alone. “I can’t bear to think of anything happening to you.”
She recognized this tactic. He appealed to her feelings for him. Because of course he knew that she cared, even if he didn’t know that she loved him beyond all measure. “I can look after myself.”
“Brave and foolish words, my love,” he whispered. “For my sake, go back to Fentonwyck. I promise we’ll bring everything to a satisfactory conclusion.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He looked marginally easier. “So you’ll listen to reason?”
“So I’ll see you in action.” Her tone turned flinty. “You’re wasting time, my lord.”
“Devil take obstinate women.” His horse shifted as he shortened the reins.
She smiled. “I hope you’ll take note of this moment.”
He narrowed his eyes. He knew that she referred to her unsuitability as a bride. “You can stay in London with Lady Harmsworth,” he snapped. “If she won’t have you—and who can blame her?—you’ll stay at Leath House. Locked in the cellars, if need be.”
Nell shot him an unimpressed glance. “We’ll see.”
“Come into the carriage with me, Miss Trim,” Lady Harmsworth called. “We never finished our discussion on Mansfield Park.”
“With pleasure, your ladyship.” Nell’s smile held a mere hint of triumph, whatever victorious fanfares rang out in her heart.
James dismounted and stalked across to lift her from Ginger’s back. “If you think I’m not angry that such an inexperienced rider as you galloped hell for leather across this wilderness, you’re much mistaken.”
She regarded him under lowered eyebrows as he set her on her feet with a decided bump. “You’re not my keeper, my lord.”
“If you sign the contract in my luggage, I will indeed be your keeper.”
She refused to blush, despite his attempt to discomfit her with a reminder of her surrender—something the long day in the saddle had made painfully apparent. “A mistress has more freedom than a wife, my lord. A mistress may leave as she pleases.”