Though he scarcely twitched, it hit home, and she shepherded Althea out of the room regretting her sharp words. She was irritated at being excluded from the inside circle, however, and deeply worried about Van.

All had been delightful since their marriage, but it wasn’t that long since he’d tried to blow his brains out. His estates were in no danger, and he had many reasons to live, but some of those reasons were rooted in Hawk in the Vale and the Georges.

What would happen if this caused a deep breach with Hawk?

They climbed into the waiting carriage, and Lord Trevor appeared, leading his horse, ready to escort them.

Such an excellent young man, and thank heavens he’d been spared both physically and mentally by the war.

Unlike Con. Con had left to follow Van, but she suddenly realized that Con could be put in a position of having to choose between two groups of friends.

She almost left the carriage, driven to stay here. But why? There was nothing she could do. Whatever happened would happen far from here, presumably on the road north. Could Hawk really outrace Van? What would happen when Van caught them?

Van said that Con was the steady one, the one who had anchored them to prevent extremes. But the Con Somerford she had known in the past weeks did not strike her as rock solid, even with Susan and his new happiness.

Van said it was Waterloo, and the loss of his fellow Rogue, Dare Debenham, there.

Maria had known Dare. His mother, the Duchess of Yeovil, was a distant cousin. Dare had been a young man put on earth to make others smile, and Sarah Yeovil had not even begun to recover from his loss, especially as there had been no body to bury. It had taken months for her to accept that he was gone.

Con Somerford hadn’t deceived himself that way, but apparently, despite all reason, he blamed himself, as if he could have nursemaided Dare through the battle and kept him safe.

He couldn’t afford to lose another friend.

Chapter Twenty-one

Tollgates, thought Van, were a very useful institution. Not only did they provide the funding for decent roads, they marked the passage of travelers, especially unusual ones such as a man with a lady up behind him.

When he joined the London road, the keeper of the first tollbooth north told him that no such couple had gone that way, on horse, by carriage, or on foot. Of course. Hawk would hardly try to outrace him on the direct route, double-laden.

He had to turn back toward Brighton to check the side roads, but there were dozens of them weaving off into a complex network linking village to village. Damn Hawk. He was going to have to waste hours, and he didn’t have the patient nature for this kind of work.

Con might follow, so he left a quick note with the tollkeeper explaining his actions, and saying that he would leave a clue on the signposts of the roads he went down. It would be one of their old boyhood signs. A twist of wheat. The fields were full of it.

Then he turned back, stopping to ask anyone he passed if they’d seen the couple, and also to cut a handful of wheat from the edge of a field. He turned off onto the first side road after sticking a crude wheat dolly in a crack on the top of the signpost.

Damn Hawk! He’d throttle him when he caught him. And yet a part of him hoped his friend would get away, marry Clarissa, and that it would all somehow work out for the best.

Hawk followed side roads and did some cross-country work, though he couldn’t jump hedges with Clarissa at his back. They didn’t talk and he was glad of it. He didn’t know what to say.

Speed wasn’t important at this point; concealment was. At an out-of-the-way village he stopped at a small inn and asked if anyone in the area would have a gig to hire out. Luck was with him, and Mr. Idler, the squint-eyed innkeeper, admitted to having one available himself. “Mostly used to go to market day, sir.”

Despite the squint, Hawk assessed the man as honest, and the type to hold his own counsel. “May I hire your gig, sir, for a week or more?”

The man pursed his lips. “A week or more, sir? That’d be a bit of an inconvenience.”

“I’d pay very well. And I’d leave my horse as security.”

The man’s eyes sharpened, and he went over to give Centaur an expert scrutiny. “Nice beast,” he said, but he still looked suspicious. “Where you and the lady be going, then, sir?”

Hawk gave him the true answer. “Gretna Green. But I’ll only take the gig as far as London. Perhaps not even so far as that. I won’t be able to return it until we come back, though.”

The man looked between them, then fixed his eyes-more or less—on Clarissa. “You going willingly, miss?”

Hawk watched her response. She smiled brilliantly. “Oh, yes. And I’m not being duped by a worthless rascal, either. My companion is an army officer who served well with the Duke of Wellington.”

Mr. Idler was not impressed. “There’s many a gallant soldier no sane woman would want to husband, miss, but that’s your affair.” He turned to Hawk. “Right, then, sir.”

They settled terms quickly, then Idler added, “Your lady might want a cloak, sir. I could sell you one my daughter left behind for a shilling.”

The deal was struck, and Clarissa climbed into the gig wearing a typical hooded country cloak of bright-red wool over the shambles of her fashionable gown. She smiled down at the innkeeper and said, “Thank you. You’ve been very kind.”

“Aye, well, I hope so.”

Hawk extended his hand to the man, and after a surprised moment, Idler shook it. “I’ll take good care of your horse, sir. But if you’re not back here in a few weeks with my gig, I’ll sell it.”

“Of course. I make no demands on you, but if my lady’s brothers should happen by, we would appreciate it if you didn’t tell them of our business.”

But Idler didn’t make any promises. “Depends on what they say, sir, and what I make of them.”

Hawk laughed. “As is your right. My thanks for your help.”

He climbed up, accepted Clarissa’s bright smile wishing he were worthy of it, and set a rough course east to pick up the Worthing road north of Horsham and work his way to London by that roundabout route.

They went four hours on the Worthing-to-London road, able to make only a steady pace because of the one horse. He wanted to push closer to London, but the sun set and then darkness crept in, with rain threatening. Hawk turned off into a narrow road to a village called Mayfield, which he hoped would have some sort of inn.

He halted the gig partway, however. “We’ll have to stop here for the night. Any regrets?”

She looked at him with a calm, direct gaze. “None, except that you can’t tell me why.”

He was tempted, but he said, “No, I can’t. But we’ll stay here as brother and sister.”

She smiled as if she was hiding laughter. “No one will believe it. We look completely unalike. We might as well stay as husband and wife. It is what we will be, isn’t it?”

His heart began to thump, but she was right. “Yes, it is.” He dug in his pocket and took out the rings he’d brought—a plain gold band, and the one with the smooth ruby between two hearts.

“It’s been the betrothal ring in my family since Elizabethan times,” he said, taking her left hand and sliding the ring onto her finger. “A perfect fit. We do seem to be fated.”

“I think so.” She blinked away tears. “I didn’t know I could be so happy as this. And the other?”

He held it in his fingers. “My mother’s wedding ring. I’m not sure we want to use it. She wore it all her life, but apparently refused to be buried with it.”

She closed his hand around the ring. “You are not your father, Hawk, and neither am I. We are marrying because we love each other. Nothing else matters.” She opened his hand again to look at the ring. “I wish I could wait until we say our vows, but I suppose I should wear it.”

Her complete trust was undermining him, but he’d known how it would be. Rather as a man facing amputation knows how it will be. Knows it has to be.

He slid the ruby ring back off her finger and put the gold band on. “With this ring,” he said to her, “I promise that I will always cherish you, Clarissa, and will do everything in my power to make your life happy.”

He meant every word, but even so they were tainted by what was really going on.

She shone without reservation. He put the ruby ring above the other and clicked the tired horse into motion again. “We’ll wait until the real vows are said before we go any further with this, of course.”

She didn’t say anything, but when he glanced at her she was smiling in a damned mysterious manner.

The Dog and Partridge was small, but the buxom landlady admitted to a room for the night. He didn’t think she believed for a moment that they were married, even with the rings, but she was willing to mind her own business.

He saw Clarissa blush as they were led upstairs and into a clean, surprisingly spacious bedroom, but she showed no sign of doubt or hesitation. What would he do if she did begin to get cold feet? Compel her to go through with it?

Impossible.

The woman lit a lamp and went to arrange their washing water and their dinner. Then they were alone.

As well as the bed, the room contained a table and chairs, and two good-sized armchairs with cushions on the seats. A washstand occupied one corner and a chamber pot another, both with screens, thank heavens, though he would use the outside convenience.

Clarissa hung up her cloak, then sat in a chair. “I’m astonishingly happy. But, then, you know I have an impatient nature. Waiting weeks for a church wedding would have been torture. I only wish it were possible to fly to Gretna Green.”

Hawk laughed, wondering if it sounded like a groan. “I wish that too.”