The horse that had escaped during the storm had been discovered with its reins caught in a bramble bush a few miles down the road and had been brought to the inn, apparently none the worse for its adventure. Alex had managed to procure a shabby but serviceable closed carriage from a Reverend Blythe, a local clergyman.
It was a decrepit old thing, with moth-eaten curtains, metal springs, and horsehair stuffing poking out of the seats. It smelled of mildew and wet dog, but its wheels were sound, and Emmy didn’t care how awful it was, provided it got them back to London in time to save Luc.
At Stamford, Alex collected his original mount, a handsome stallion named Bey, and their original coachman. As before, he rode alongside the carriage, leaving Emmy alone with her tumultuous thoughts.
There had been no one else in the taproom when they’d taken breakfast, save the obsequious landlord, and they’d endured an excruciatingly polite meal. Alex would reach for his silverware, or lift his coffee mug, and her attention would be drawn to his wrist, or his lips. A brief image of last night’s lovemaking would flash into her brain. She’d spent the entire meal trying to will the embarrassed heat from her cheeks.
Harland’s amused, knowing looks, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking, hadn’t helped matters at all.
Emmy sneaked a glance at him beyond the carriage window. His jaw this morning was faintly darkened with beard shadow. He looked more disreputable, like a highwayman or a pirate—a fitting mate for a jewel thief.
The carriage bounced through a rut, and the box of jewels slid across the floor and bumped painfully into her ankle. Alex had placed it next to her with a significant look, as if she were being honored by his trust. Emmy snorted. Where did he think she was going to go with it? She couldn’t very well leap out of a moving carriage and start running across the fields. He’d ride her down in no time.
Alex had told her not to worry about the meeting with Danton, but it was impossible. He and Mowbray might well have set similar traps during their army days, but had any of them involved hostages? She doubted it. If anything happened to Luc, she would never forgive herself. And what if Danton didn’t contact them, as he said he would? What if he’d already killed Luc? Her head began to pound. Ignoring the lumpy, uncomfortable seats, she lay down and tugged Alex’s heavy greatcoat over her, awash in misery. The scent of him provided a little comfort and eventually she slept, worn out by worry and exhaustion.
It was midafternoon when they clattered into the mews behind the Tricorn. Sebastien, Lord Mowbray, must have been listening out for them, because the back door opened, and he bounded down the steps.
He gave a lordly grimace when he caught sight of the shabby conveyance. “What the hell did you do to our carriage?”
Alex dismounted. “It’s somewhere in deepest, darkest Lincolnshire with a broken axle. I’ve arranged to have it taken to a wheelwright in Stamford, then delivered back here when it’s mended.”
Mowbray raised his eyebrows. He opened the door to the carriage and extended his hand to help Emmy down, but Alex pushed him out of the way with his shoulder and took his place. Emmy sent them both a smile of thanks.
Mowbray’s eyes were sparkling with interest. He was clearly dying to know what had happened. “Sounds like you had an eventful trip,” he prodded.
Alex sent her a smile that made her innards liquefy. “You could say that,” he murmured.
“Did you retrieve the jewels?”
“Yes.” He reached into the carriage and withdrew the box. “Come inside and I’ll show you.”
Mickey was waiting in the hall to relieve them of their cloaks. Alex started toward the drawing room, then turned to Emmy.
“Why don’t you go upstairs and freshen up? I need to have a little talk with Lord Mowbray.”
Emmy refused to be so summarily dismissed. She turned and addressed Mowbray. “I assume you’ve been in contact with my grandmother? Has Danton sent instructions about exchanging the jewels for Luc?”
Mowbray grinned at the way she ignored Alex’s suggestion. “Yes. He sent a note to Waverton Street this morning. He wants to meet at Kew, in the grounds of the palace that’s being constructed there, at ten o’clock this evening.”
Emmy nodded. “Very well. I will be ready.” She turned back to Alex. “I would like