He had seemingly spent the past few months helping both of his brothers cope with their angst as they had sought to keep their prospective brides safe from harm. He had seen the devastated husk Dominic had turned into when Izzy had been shot, and still had nightmares about Amelia disappearing into the black void of the rushing river not so long back.
Although he had no intention of marrying the woman before him, he had some sympathy and understanding for the depths of fear his brothers had been plunged into – and he didn’t love the woman seated before him. With not even a full day’s acquaintance, it was impossible to fall in love with anyone with any degree of certainty. His emotions were engaged purely to the point of needing to know she was safe because he liked her. She had been dealt a rough hand she didn’t deserve – how rough a hand he had yet to learn, but she was in a dire situation and needed his help, even if she didn’t want to acknowledge it.
“You and whose army?” Eliza returned, flicking her hair back in abrupt defiance. “You can stand and glower all night but I’m hungry. She motioned to the other chair and offered him a plate with a large pie on it, watching as he studied it for several moments. She was fully aware he contemplated refusing it before hunger got the better of his need to vent his anger and he abruptly relieved her of the plate and sat down opposite her.
“Don’t tempt me.” He glowered at her as he dug in, willing to put his temper to one side in order to appease his gnawing hunger, but unwilling to let the matter drop entirely.
“Enter!” He ordered, blithely ignoring Eliza’s glare of disgust and turning to smile at the maids who arrived with a bottle of brandy, more steaming hot water and even more food.
Casually tossing them several coins, he turned back to his food apparently oblivious that he had given them both the equivalent of a week’s pay.
Eliza shook her head completely at a loss to fathom how the aristocracy really worked. To him it was mere pittance, undoubtedly he had untold wealth somewhere that afforded him the luxury of being able to spend days away from home without needing to supervise something, or someone, or make business decisions.
Was he a fop? A dandy? Eliza scoffed at that one and eyed the dark clothing he wore. The colour suited him to perfection. The jet black of his hair, added to the blackness of his clothing, even his boots were black, giving him an air of menace that made everyone he came into contact with suck in a deep breath and take a respectful step backwards. Eliza wondered if his clothing had been chosen for that reason entirely. After all, why wasn’t he dressed in a white shirt, silk waistcoat and breeches like everyone else of his ilk? What had he been doing that required him being dressed like he was going to mug somebody?
As she tucked into her own food she realised there was a lot she had to learn about the man opposite. She still couldn’t be certain whether he was one of Scraggan’s men or not.
She froze in the act of putting some potato into her mouth and stared at him.
“What?” Edward’s eyes met and held hers and he flicked a brief assessing glance around the room, looking for the cause of the alarm that had entered her eyes.
“How did you find me?” Eliza eyed him warily, glancing out of the window for any signs of their pursuers or Scraggan.
“I wasn’t trying to believe me. I sat and waited in the barn as we had planned.”
Inwardly she winced at his pronunciation of the last four words. It took every ounce of self control she possessed to steadily meet his gaze and nonchalantly ignore his pointed reminder.
“When it became apparent you weren’t going to show up as you promised, then I decided to head back to Havistock. Whether you know it or not, Murray is only a few miles away from my brother’s residence, Havistock Hall. It is just outside Melton.”
Eliza felt her stomach dip. She hadn’t stopped to consider exactly where she was headed last night, or was that early this morning? She had failed to consider that she could be making it easy for Edward to simply follow her. Cursing herself for being every type of fool, she watched him eat for several moments before turning her attention to her own meal.
The silence stretched between them for several long moments until Eliza was certain he was trying to unnerve her with his reticence. Determined not to buckle under his intimidating glowering, she gazed back at him defiantly and sat back to wait.
Edward smiled to himself, pleased that despite everything she stood up to him. Although he was loathed to admit it out loud, he was damned pleased to see she was safe and unharmed, if exhausted. He eyed the dark smudge of shadows beneath her eyes that he was certain hadn’t been there the night before. Luckily he had given the innkeeper several coins to ensure that their presence in the inn remained confidential. They had the night to themselves.
He poured them both a brandy, pushed one across the table towards her and settled back in the chair. Knowing she was safe and secure, and they were both away from prying eyes ensured he was able to relax for the first time in a long time. Exhaustion began to pull at him but he refused to give in to it until he had the answers he needed.
“Do you want to tell me what the bloody hell is going on?” His soft murmur was betrayed by the cold glint of steel in his eyes. Although his legs were crossed casually at the ankle, Eliza could see the hard muscles of his shoulders twitch and knew he was anything but relaxed.
“I am nothing to you. Why are you bothering with me?” She murmured, struggling to understand why someone of apparent wealth and independence would take up someone else’s problems so readily. Was he a thrill seeker? Someone who had so little to do in his own life, he sought out anything that would challenge him? She was certain that his actions of last night went far beyond friend helping friend.
“I told you, I need to know if you are Jemima or Eliza.” Edward crossed his arms, clearly intended to wait for as long as it took to get the truth out of her.
“How many mor
e times do I have to tell you that I am Eliza? Jemima went missing a few weeks ago.” Eliza’s voice rose with frustration. “Why do you not believe me?”
“I need to be certain.”
“Then be assured that I am Eliza.” She snapped, taking a sip of her brandy without thinking. She immediately broke into a coughing fit as the potent liquid burned her throat.
Although he didn’t show it, Edward was vastly relieved. “Then who are the men chasing you?” He leaned forward in his seat and drew his legs up to prop his elbows on his knees. “Don’t try and tell me that you don’t know. You know exactly who they are, and exactly what they want.” His blue eyes were cold and hard as he stared at her, daring her to tell him a lie.
Eliza struggled not to feel completely overwhelmed by the sheer dominance of the man before her. Even seated, once again menace seemed to shimmer around him and she knew he would be a forbidding adversary if she pushed him too far. The image of herself being draped over his knee while he paddled her backside swam before her gaze and a tiny thrill of feminine anticipation swept through her briefly before it was immediately replaced with embarrassment at the thought of someone like Edward resorting to such endeavours. She had no doubt he was capable if she pushed him far enough and she didn’t really know him well enough to be assured he wouldn’t.
From her experiences of the past day, she knew she couldn’t make the trip to Padstow on her own. Not only was it incredibly risky for a single lady to travel alone unchaperoned, with Scraggan giving chase the odds were decidedly stacked against her. Luckily today she had met an innkeeper who was more than understanding and reliable enough to be helpful. Next time she may not be so lucky. She needed the protection of the man opposite.
Although she hated to draw him into danger, and couldn’t bear the thought of him being hurt, she had spent enough time on her own chasing through the night to know she couldn’t face the prospect of doing it day after day. The curious stares she had encountered as she passed through the village some miles back reminded her of the attention she would attract simply by trying to go about her business. It would be a miracle indeed if she wasn’t accosted by every ne’er do well within a hundred miles. And unfortunately in her circumstance, there would be nobody to report her missing if she didn’t turn up at the other end.