A look akin to pride flashed in Mr Trent’s eyes. “A plausible theory, Miss Vale. A crossroads cuts through the lane, giving them ample opportunity to choose an alternative route.”
Mr Cavanagh sighed. “We should focus our attention on discovering more about Layton and Wincote.”
“Not we. Tomorrow, I intend to visit Wincote and knock his teeth down his throat.” While Mr Trent sounded most excited about the prospect of confronting the man directly, his tone was dark enough to frighten the devil. “After I’ve throttled the truth from his lying lips, I shall call on Layton and do the same.”
Panic flared in Verity’s chest. “These men are unpredictable. Look what happened tonight. You mustn’t go alone.”
“Tonight, I made a foolish mistake. Tomorrow, I intend to follow your lead and bear arms.”
Verity shuffled around to face him. “Perhaps we should discuss this in the morning. Once you’ve slept and thought on the matter.”
“I’ll not spend another day wasting time traipsing around town. When it comes to discovering the truth, Miss Vale, I lack patience.” He bent his head so that she could feel his breath breeze across her cheek. “And when I discover which rogue attacked you in your bedchamber, I guarantee the man will lack the necessary implements to abuse any other woman.”
The vehemence behind the comment should have frightened her, but it only strengthened her connection to him. Lawrence Trent would give his life to protect her. Of that, she was in no doubt. The warm feeling filled her chest again. The yearning in her heart pulsed with a need to love this man.
“Once he’s made up his mind, nothing will sway Trent’s decision,” Mr Cavanagh informed. “You’ve more chance of luring a bull from a gate.”
“Perhaps” was her only reply. She would reason with him, find a way to make him see sense.
They spent the next few minutes in silence. A few fat raindrops hit the window, and she watched them trickle down the pane. The heavens opened, and the downpour pelted the roof in a rhythmical patter, the sound like a pleasurable song when one had the benefit of shelter.
When they arrived at Jaunay’s Hotel, they had to pull the bell cord to gain entrance. Only the dissolute returned to a h
otel during the early hours. When she hurried into the lobby and shook off the rain, she glanced at the longcase clock and noted the time.
“It’s three o’clock in the morning,” she whispered in disbelief. “I doubt any of us shall rise before midday. Come, Mr Trent. We must get you to bed so you can rest. Take my arm, and I shall help you upstairs.”
A grin formed on Mr Trent’s lips. “It’s a minor injury, mild concussion. Trust me, Miss Vale, I’m fit enough to sweep you into my arms and take us both upstairs to bed.”
A delightful shiver of anticipation ran from her head to her toes. “Is that a statement of fact, sir, or an offer one shouldn’t miss?”
“Were we alone, Miss Vale, it would be an indication of my intention.” He gestured for her to follow the liveried porter carrying a lamp. “I believe I have already made my position clear on the matter. The decision is yours as to how we proceed.”
Mr Cavanagh put paid to any decisions when he informed the porter of his need to play nursemaid to his injured friend. Upon reaching their rooms on the first floor, the porter held his lamp aloft. He cast a faint light on the keyhole and unlocked her door with the tasselled key.
While Verity hovered on the threshold, a host of chaotic thoughts flooding her mind, Miss Trimble yanked open the door of room ten and came out into the corridor in her nightgown and wrapper. The candle flame flickered in the brass holder she carried. With her sharp gaze, she stared down her elegant nose at the men dressed in their masquerade costumes. One look at Verity’s frilly pantaloons and the woman arched a disdainful brow.
“You may leave us, Barker. I shall see Miss Vale into her room.”
Mr Trent straightened to his full height. “I do not appreciate being accosted in the corridor in the dead of night. May I suggest you return to your bed and leave the other guests to attend to their business?”
“When an unmarried woman travels alone, her welfare is my business. Ladies must look out for one another when there are rogues aplenty roaming our streets, which is why I have taken the room next door.”
Mr Trent inhaled deeply. “An admirable attitude, though I can assure you, no one shall harm Miss Vale while she keeps my company.”
Miss Trimble raised the candle to examine his features. “I know enough of rogues, sir, to know they often hide their appetites beneath noble protestations.”
Mr Trent stepped back. “And I know enough about devious women to know an immoral harpy often resides behind the facade of a prim busybody.” When Miss Trimble gasped, the gentleman inclined his head. “You may escort Miss Vale into her room, though I shall not enter mine until you’re safely behind the door of room ten.”
“Miss Trimble, you have nothing to fear. I would trust Mr Trent with my life.” Verity was quick to defend the gentleman. “But I appreciate your concern.” She bid them all good night, entered her room and closed the door. Minutes passed before she heard the deep rumble of masculine voices in the room next door.
His voice.
Lawrence Trent.
Her heart sighed as his name swept through her mind.
She had fallen in love with him.