her. She clung to that hope and forged on. Going east. Keeping the wind on her right, as best as she could tell, because it constantly changed direction.
And she had to be correct, because the sound of the sea had faded away. She was heading into the countryside. Towards Halstead. Soon she should come across a road, with signposts and milestones and then she would be able to take her bearings.
She stopped to catch her breath, to look behind her for signs of pursuit. Nothing. Just the wind and the blowing snow. Hopefully his lordship was still sleeping outside her chamber door. He was going to be very angry when he awoke and found her gone. Hopefully that would not occur until later in the morning. She’d asked Betsy not to wake her too early, complaining of being tired.
It was all she could do.
She struggled on. The snow was drifting now. Getting deeper in some places and leaving the ground bare in others. And it also seemed to be lessening. She looked up at the sky and saw the glimmer of the moon through scudding clouds. Then a patch of stars.
The storm was over.
Her heart picked up speed. Even more reason to hurry. But now, with the moon casting light and shadow over the landscape at irregular intervals, she could see her way. See the line of a hedge that marked the edge of a field. See the moors rising in their white blanket off to her left. If she could just see the road. She looked around for a landmark. Something to tell her where she was. How far from the Abbey she had come.
Not far enough yet. She knew that. Not if his lordship was determined to find her. She would have to find a place to hide, somewhere he wouldn’t look for her.
Again she glanced back over her shoulder. And gazed in horror. Oh, dear lord, what had she been thinking? That the snow would hide her? There, tracking across the field, was the dark imprint of where she had walked. She’d left the easiest trail for him to follow.
Wildly she glanced around her. She needed to find the road. Somewhere where other people walked and drove. Somewhere where her footsteps could not be identified.
She took careful stock of her surroundings and headed for the hedge where the snow was piling up on one side and clinging to the top and leaving the ground bare on her side.
Once in the lea of the hedge, with her footsteps no longer clearly visible to the most casual observer, she retraced her steps, going back on herself, hoping that he would not realise she would dare take such a risk.
She pulled her cloak around her, tried to ignore that her hands were freezing and her feet turning to blocks of ice and hurried on, taking the hedgerows, zigzagging in different directions, until she was dizzy, with no clue where she was. And still she did not find a single lane or road.
Yet there had to be one.
Had to be. She sank down to the ground to catch her breath, to think. She was exhausted. Tired. It would be just so easy to sleep for a while. To gain her strength.
Not a good idea, to sleep out here in the open. People froze to death under such circumstances. She had to find a place out of the wind. An inn. A barn. Any kind of structure. A flurry of snow stung her face. She frowned. Why was she panicking? The snow had been falling when she left the Abbey. It would have covered all traces of her footprints, and if these flurries kept up, then by morning there would be no sign for Bane to follow. Bane. She must not think of him as Bane. He was the Earl of Beresford. And a man who wished her at Jericho. Or worse.
She pushed herself to rise and took stock of her surroundings again. There. A barn. She could spend the rest of the night there and travel on in the morning. In daylight. She must have travelled five miles at least. Hopefully it was far enough for dawn would soon be upon her. Then she would get her bearings and move on. It would not be long before she was questioning Sally Ladbrook.
Filled with new purpose, she skirted the field, keeping to the hedges since they offered protection from the wind, and she was still concerned about leaving too easy a trail