keep up the pretense that he still thought Lydia was guilty. “She may be a conniving creature, but I believe her when she says she is a virgin. I won’t take a virgin in a coach or some inn. She will have a first time in a fine bed in a fine house.”
“Nice to see you do have some gentleness about you, old boy,” Rafe said.
Brodie snorted. “I have a little, but my temper often covers that up.” He left Rafe and his man to finish packing and headed downstairs to wait with Lydia.
The stable yard was full of coaches, some finely painted, some adorned with family crests or shields of heraldry, while others were red-and-gold Royal Mail coaches. The rest were public or private stagecoaches but far less fancy.
Rafe’s coach was blue and silver, with the Lennox crest emblazoned on the side. They were lucky to ride in such a fine conveyance. It had plenty of room on top for luggage and for servants to sit facing each other in pairs on the perched seats. Alan and Fanny climbed up to their seats, and Lydia stood beside the coach talking to them. The morning sun created a halo of gold light around her flaxen hair and a slight breeze played with her skirts which displayed hints of her curves. She was a bonnie lass. A bloody innocent lass, he reminded himself. Rafe and his valet joined Brodie in the yard a minute later.
Brodie came over to her by the coach. “Ready to leave?”
“Yes.” Lydia peeped up at him before looking away.
The coach driver lowered the step for her, and Brodie offered her his hand rather than shoving her inside as he had been doing. She placed her hand in his, that small sign of trust making him proud. She took a seat opposite him, and Rafe joined them inside, chuckling as he did so.
“So, you hired a maid for our guest?”
“I did,” Brodie replied warningly as he saw Rafe smile.
“Excellent choice,” Rafe said. “Very nice girl, Fanny.” He winked at Lydia, who blushed. Brodie was no fool—he assumed that Rafe must have bedded the maid.
The coach driver closed the door, sealing the three of them in, and a moment later they were off. It was another six hours to Edinburgh, but Brodie would find some way to amuse himself, since he couldn’t very well toss Rafe out of his own coach, though right now Brodie was tempted. He pulled out the stack of books and saw Lydia’s eyes brighten with interest.
Brodie studied the books he had recently purchased in Bath and passed her one.
Lydia looked at the title. “The Spy?”
“Aye, ’tis a new book by an American, James Fenimore Cooper. It is about a good man who is wrongly accused, and even the men closest to him doubt his innocence.”
Lydia’s eyes grew frosty. “My, how could I ever relate to such a story? It’s so beyond my limited experience in the world.”
Brodie realized what he’d just said, and he felt the weight of his guilt grow. “Well, things work out for him. In the end, he shows through his actions that he is innocent. It is a lesson that one should be judged by one’s actions, not by one’s class or reputation.”
Lydia returned her gaze to the book and turned to the first page. He liked the fact that she was a reader. Some men scorned reading when they could afford other entertainments, and women were expected to read only if they were unmarried and had no children. Both views seemed ridiculous to him. Brodie’s mother had raised him to love books, to see the value in every printed page, and the words of wisdom each held.
He spent the next three hours watching every small movement she made as she read. Her blonde hair, artfully styled by Fanny that morning, had a few loose curls framing her face. They weren’t the tight, perfect kind of curls most ladies wore. These held a gentle but wild look about them. The way they caressed her cheeks made him envious. He wanted to touch her. He wanted his lips to kiss that creamy skin while she blissfully sighed his name.
At one point, Lydia noticed his attention and tried to distract him by asking questions about Scotland now that they were over the border. Her interest in his country was a surprising and pleasant thing, so he told her as much about his homeland as he could.