Passionately Yours (Hellions of High Street 3)

“I shall do my best to keep your attention.”

A thrilling little shiver slid down her spine. “Always,” she said. And knew it was true.

A short while later, with Caro wrapped in the blankets and settled safely in his arms, Alec guided the big bay down through the mist-shrouded hills and back to the inn.

The proprietor and his wife, desperate to avoid any trouble with the authorities, scurried to minister to their needs—a generous breakfast, steaming baths, a change of clothing while their own muddied garments were being laundered.

With Caro tucked away out of sight upstairs, Alec arranged to meet with the local magistrate. It took more than a little embroidering on the truth, but he managed to stitch together a story explaining the dead body on the moor and the miscreant held captive in the cellar. It was, thought Alec wryly, a tale worthy of a Sir Sharpe Quill novel, involving a stolen antiquity, quarreling thieves, his own fortuitous arrival at the out-of-the-way inn, where he had immediately recognized the suspects. In trying to apprehend them, a wild chase through the storm-lashed hills had ensued, which resulted in Thayer coming to his demise while trying to evade capture.

The magistrate had raised a skeptical eyebrow at several points during the long-winded narrative. But he had heard of the theft in Bath, and that combined with Alec’s rank had apparently convinced him to accept the story without further question.

And Dudley, when dragged up from the depths of the inn, had corroborated the account. Alec had met with him earlier and convinced him that confessing to theft would lead to a far lesser sentence than if he were charged with kidnapping a lady.

As for the part that Dudley had played in the traitorous betrayals…

Alec was quite certain that his fellow members of the Scottish independence movement would eventually mete out their own form of justice for the crime.

With that onerous task taken care of, he turned his attention to the most important task at hand. Calling for pen and paper, he retreated into a private parlor.

“This,” he murmured to himself, “will be the true test of my creative skills.”

Caro retied the sash of the oversized wrapper and edged in a little closer to peer over Alec’s shoulder. She blinked—and then let out a chortle.

“As you see, I can plot convolutedly complex intrigue as well as Anna,” he announced with a grin, after a last little flourish of his pen.

“I confess, I’m impressed.”

“With a bit of luck and a little fancy footwork, we should be able to keep the tattlemongers quiet,” he added.

Caro nodded. “So far, so good. Though from now on, things do turn a trifle complicated.”

“I’m sure my aunt and Isobel will hasten to do as I request.”

The letter he had just penned would be sent off with the next mail coach. By morning, the plan should begin to start falling in place. “Thank God that Aunt Adelaide was offered the use of Lady Webster’s country house for the coming fortnight. If she and my sister move quickly to take up residence by tomorrow, we can avoid scandal by going there directly. Once we’re all together, with every propriety in place, no one will think to parse over the exact timing, especially as the country interlude will be used to announce our engagement. Even the snippiest of the tabbies will have trouble stirring up gossip when there’s no real scandal to come from it.”

“Very clever,” conceded Caro.

“I have my moments.”

“More than a few.”

Alec slipped his arm around her waist. “It’s a very long journey back to the outskirts of Bath. I don’t dare speculate on exactly how many moments that comes to. But I am sure it is quite a lot.”

Caro took up the pen and teased the feathered tip against his chin. “Plenty of time to compose a sonnet to your silvery tongue.”

“Among other activities.” He curled a wicked smile—a new expression that invited all sorts of interesting ideas to take shape in her head. “I’ve ordered Thayer’s carriage to be brought around in an hour.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

The trip south proved a good deal more enjoyable than the trip north. Still, Caro cou

ldn’t wait to step out of the dark, dreary carriage for the last time. The creaking woodwork, the threadbare seats—the ghost of Thayer’s presence seemed to taint everything, even the air, despite the shared laughter with Alec.

As if sensing her mood, he reached over to brush a caress to her cheek.

“We are almost there,” he murmured, as the hired driver guided the horses past a stone gatehouse and began the climb up a long, winding drive lined with stately oaks. He shifted and slanted a look out the window as the vehicle rounded the first turn.

“Hmmph.” A frown furrowed between his brows.