There was a price for flirting with a gentleman, and if they had been in London, she would be paying it. The whole of society would be gossiping about her inappropriate behavior, and if she wasn’t the sister-in-law to a duke, she would receive the Cut.

  But this wasn’t London. All the norms of society were elsewhere, and she was here, riding a horse with a man’s arms around her. A man who had already told her that he liked her. A man who had kissed her. A man who, only yesterday, had said he would do anything for her.

  Beth swallowed. “Well, do you?”

  “Do what?”

  “Hugh Shardlow!”

  Her inelegant elbow to his stomach made Hugh’s response a little breathless.

  “Good God, do you think I would have kissed you if I had another woman stashed about the place in England?”

  Beth glanced over her shoulder, hating how glad his answer made her. “Truly?”

  Hugh held her gaze. There was no teasing merriment in his expression now. “Truly.”

  She could have kissed him. Beth was in half a mind to do just that, if not for the fact she was almost certain she would fall off Zeus immediately.

  Turning back to the horse’s head, she patted the beast. “Right. Well.”

  “You know, nice young ladies don’t typically ask that sort of question.”

  “But you said—”

  “I didn’t say you shouldn’t, I was just pointing out how different you are from all the dull, yawning ladies who all look the same and speak the same. Those I have had the misfortune in meeting before you,” Hugh said quietly.

  Beth grinned. “I have always found that acting like a nice young lady is far less fun.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hugh narrowed his eyes as he looked along the horizon.

  “Do you see anything?” asked the quiet, weary voice of the woman resting in his arms.

  He swallowed. It had been difficult enough to concentrate when she was silent. Never before had he ridden like this, with a woman leaning in his arms, warm and welcoming. There had been moments that day when he had regretted purchasing Zeus.

  Not long moments. Most of the time was spent trying not to think about how intimate they were being, how scandalous it would be if they had ridden this way in Hyde Park.

  But here, in the middle of nowhere, France?

  “Hugh?”

  “No, I can’t see anywhere that would be suitable,” said Hugh hastily, remembering Beth was waiting for an answer.

  “Blow,” came her gentle reply.

  Worry prickled up Hugh’s spine. Night was falling fast around them but he had evidently taken a wrong turn somewhere. Though he’d thought his memory of this part of France was relatively good, he had expected a small town by now. Even a village, where a family may have taken pity on Beth and given her shelter for the night.

  As it was, a slow drizzle was pouring down his neck, he was tired, and his bones ached. He couldn’t help but presume that Beth was in a similar state. Yet no inn, or any building, could be seen in any direction.

  “We’ll lose the light soon,” said Beth softly.

  Hugh nodded. “I know. We’ll find somewhere.”

  He spoke as confidently as he could manage, though he could not see what he was supposed to do about the lack of accommodation.

  That was the thing with adventures, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered. They were all well and good in novels, or on the stage. But when living in one, it was astonishing how quickly one became disheartened when unable to find a place to sleep.

  “We could always go back—”

  “No,” said Hugh firmly. Zeus continued to trot along the lane, head lowered. “We’ve come a long way, but there are still many places we need to look for your brother. Going back would only waste time.”

  Even if it would bring them to an inn, he thought. It was tempting. Perhaps, when the light completely went…

  But what was he thinking? This wasn’t London, where gas lamps had been recently fitted and in places the evening air was brilliantly lit, allowing revelers to easily find their way home.

  They were in the middle of nowhere. Once they lost the light, they would lose all sense of direction. He was no spy; he could not navigate by the stars, even if Beth assumed he could.

  “What’s that?”

  Hugh’s head jerked up. “What?”

  “Over there.” Beth pointed to something on their right. “I thought I saw…yes, there!”

  As Zeus trotted forward, a break in the trees brought a building into view.

  And not just a building. Even from this distance, Hugh could see it was an impressive manor, at least three floors high with mock crenellations along the roof. The windows glowed, reflecting the dying sun, and there appeared to be a stable or some outbuildings to the side.

  “Hmmm,” said Hugh.

  It certainly looked striking. If he had been traveling in France under his real name, he would likely as not be able to march up there, reveal himself, and demand entrance. As it was…

  “Do you think they would offer us shelter?” asked Beth, tilting her head.

  Hugh smiled, his heart lurching as rain dripped off her nose. “Right now, I would say it’s worth a try.”

  He had to admit, in the privacy of his mind, he was not convinced. They were dressed…well, Beth’s gown had seen better days, even if it was elegant and stylish. His clothes were French, true, but had attracted much mud over the last few days, and he had a horrible feeling the owners of such a place would not necessarily welcome strangers.

  But there were few other options. Within a few minutes, they found themselves trotting up a long gravel drive, the house growing larger and larger.

  Beth shifted in the saddle. Hugh did not have to see her face to know her mood. That was the thing with Beth. She rarely hid her emotions, and after their time together—was it really only a week?—he could read her like a book.

  “You don’t have to worry,” he said softly.

  Beth turned with fear in her eyes. “They’ll send us on our way, you know they will.”

  Hugh cleared his throat. If two such looking miscreants had turned up at his house in the growing dark, he would have sent them on their way. But he couldn’t say that.

  “We don’t have to apply at the house,” he said. “We could try an outbuilding—”

  “Hugh, look!”

  Once again, Beth was pointing, but this time, Hugh did not need any explanation.

  Zeus came to a gentle stop outside the front door and Hugh looked up in wonder.

  The place was abandoned. Nothing gave a building that sort of desolate look other than emptiness. A few windows were boarded up and there was a large chain on the front door. Dust could be seen hanging from the curtains, and undisturbed cobwebs covered the stoop.

  “Well, it looks like our luck is in,” said Beth with a laugh. “Help me, will you?”

  Hugh obeyed, though he couldn’t see how they could benefit from such a discovery. If the place was abandoned, there was no one within to request shelter. Although he supposed the outbuildings were—

  For an instant, after he had dismounted and as he helped Beth, she slid down his body and stood, breathless, in his arms.

  Hugh looked at her. Never before had she presented such a tempting offer. Why, he doubted she would resist him if he—

  “Now, where shall we break in?” Beth said firmly, stepping back and looking up at the manor.

  Hugh knew he had misheard her. There was no possibility she could have said—

  “Hugh? I said, where shall we break in?” said Beth, turning to him with surprise that he had not suggested a particular route.

  His mouth was dry. “You cannot be serious!”

  “No one else is using the place, and we need it,” Beth said decidedly. The weather proved her point as the drizzle started to become heavier. “Come on, I don’t want to get soaked, and it’s not as though we’re going to damage the place, are we?”

  Still, Hugh hesitated. There was something different between tricking French soldiers to letting English prisoners go and breaking into the manor of a Frenchman who, though French, was probably more like him than he would care to admit.

  A marquess, perhaps. Or a duc. Someone of his status.

  And then he looked at Beth. At her damp curls starting to stick to her forehead. At the way she was not quite shivering, but evidently attempting not to shiver. At the way her arms had come about her, desperate to keep warm.

  Hugh nodded. “Back door. But first, Zeus.”

  The barn he found was dry and still had hay within it. After wiping and brushing down the horse, ensuring he had access to water, and noting that if they couldn’t get into the house, the barn would do just as well, Hugh strode out of the barn and around the house.

  “You really think the back door will be unlocked?” said Beth, her teeth chattering.

  Hugh tried not to smile. It was the one criticism he had of his servants—and, from the conversation he had shared with other nobles and titled gentlemen in the Dulverton Club, it was a failing of all servants everywhere.

  “Most servants don’t bother to lock the back door,” he said aloud, stepping through a side gate and wandering along a wall covered in wisteria. “They use it as a way to get in and out easily—”

  “How on earth would you know that?” asked Beth curiously at his shoulder.

  Hugh hesitated. That was an excellent question. “I just know things.”

  Pathetic an excuse as it was, it appeared Beth was too cold and tired to question him further. “And is it unlocked?”

  Stopping before the large oak door with an ornate handle, Hugh took a deep breath and prayed as he reached for the handle. It turned. The door shifted.

  “Yes,” he breathed with a grin. “Come on in.”

  It was eerie, stepping into a house that was not your own when you had not been invited. But at least it would mean they could be confident of being undisturbed.

  “Goodness,” breathed Beth, as though frightened the true owners of the place may startle them at any moment. “And this is just for their servants?”

  An odd prickling discomfort spread through Hugh’s chest. He had just been about to say how small and pokey the servants’ quarters were. He certainly would never have given them such a small, dark, dank place to relax after their hard work.

  “I…suppose so,” he said awkwardly. “Come on, let’s go into the house proper.”

  “You know, I have never been in a place like this,” said Beth in awe, looking around with wide eyes as they stepped along a servants’ corridor. “I mean, my brother-in-law’s house is large, but I’ve never been in the servants’ quarters. Obviously I’ve been invited to Lady Romeril’s parties”—Hugh’s heart skipped a beat—“but Nancy forbade me from exploring.”

  Hugh suppressed a smile as they stepped through a door and went into the hallway.

  He could well imagine Beth being told precisely what she could and could not do at Lady Romeril’s—and the irritation she would feel at her curiosity being curtailed.

  “It’s like they just stepped outside, isn’t it?” said Beth in a whisper as she gazed about.

  She was right. Though the front door had been coated in cobwebs, it must be merely a sign of the season rather than the duration that the place had been abandoned. It was as though the owners had just stepped out into the night, taking their servants with them.

  “Well, I think we can take it that we’ll be here for the night,” said Hugh softly.

  Beth grinned. “Goodness, what luxury! If I had known I’d be sleeping here, I would have come to France sooner.”

  He chuckled as he moved to return to the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s see if any food has been left in the pantry.”

  There wasn’t.

  “Oh, damn,” he sighed heavily. Then, “My apologies, I meant—”

  “I know precisely what you meant,” Beth said, peering over his shoulder. “When you meet Matthew, you’ll see why I am not offended by a man cursing—and what are you talking about? There’s plenty here!”

  Hugh blinked. The pantry did not change in any way. “What are you—”

  “Now there goes a man who has never been hungry,” said Beth with a dry laugh. “Go on, find some plates and cutlery, and I shall bring you enough food to provide a feast!”

  Hugh walked back in the kitchen, bemused. Beth could not have seen more than he did. Those shelves were almost bare, with naught but scraps and abandoned food surely inedible.

  Though her comment stung, even if she could not have known it. As he dug in drawers looking for forks, Hugh could not deny, even to himself, that she was right. He had never gone hungry. At least, not until he had come to France.

  It had been impossible to imagine when living his life as a duke. Food was something provided; it appeared on one’s plate, carefully cooked and lovingly styled. Sometimes, the problem was not a dearth of food, but rather a surplus.

  Well, how the mighty have fallen, he thought ruefully as he looked at the mismatched cutlery he had been able to find now lying on the smooth wooden table.

  “Can you light a candle?” came Beth’s voice from the pantry.

  Hugh’s fingers closed on the tinderbox in his pocket. Well, he supposed it would be useful after all. Perhaps it was a good thing he hadn’t left it in England.

  “Oh, what a fine tinderbox.”

  Hugh whirled around. “It’s not—”

  “Where did you find it?” asked Beth as she poked her head around the door.

  He swallowed. He had not expected to be questioned about it, and so did not have a lie prepared, which was most unfortunate.

  “Looks like it’s got a fine crest on it too,” she continued with a grin. “You didn’t cheat someone out of it at cards, did you?”

  Hugh smiled weakly at the excuse offered to him ready made. “Yes. Yes, something like that.”

  “Here we go!” said Beth cheerfully. “Righty, let’s see what we have.”

  It did not look any more impressive now that it was laid on the table, Hugh could not help but think. It had looked paltry in the pantry, and now looked even smaller on the large expanse of the servants’ hall.

  “Dig in,” said Beth with a grin, pulling at some bread that looked moldy to him.

  “We can’t eat this,” Hugh said softly as he sat on the bench opposite her.

  Beth looked up in surprise. “Can’t eat—have you never seen three-day old bread before? Or cured meats, dried out to last a while? And this butter has been left in what I think was an ice bucket, it’s cold to the touch and perfectly fine. And these apples!”

  She lifted one up and displayed it as though it were a huge diamond.

  “It’s an apple,” said Hugh flatly.

  Beth grinned. “It’s a feast, is what it is!”

  And though Hugh had absolutely no reason to believe her, he was rather astonished to find that she was right.

  Oh, the bread was a little dryer than he was accustomed to—but when slathered with the butter, which was remarkably fresh, Hugh found he could stomach it quite easily. The meat was delicious, tangy and rich, though he wasn’t sure what it was. And though he’d had his doubts, ending his meal with two apples was perfect. Hugh could not recall a dessert he had enjoyed so thoroughly, even when dining with other dukes.

  “Well,” said Beth quietly. “Was that a meal to remember?”

  Hugh’s stomach lurched. Not because the food had indeed been bad, but because it had been a meal to remember. Not that it had anything to do with the food itself.

  No, it was the company which had breathed such life into the festivities. Their conversation, the way she laughed at his terrible jokes, the lightness she brought to his soul…

  Hugh could not recall ever being so at ease.

  True, he had rarely dined out, and even more rarely entertained. Few people would accept an invitation from a Martock, after all. Few people extended them.

  So he discovered that, over the years, he had grown accustomed to his own miserable company. Dwelling on the past, on the father he had hated and the family line he despised. Thinking of the future had felt a fool’s errand, something only those with hope could enjoy.

  But now…

  “You are thinking of something momentous,” said Beth with a grin. “And I demand to know what it is.”

  Hugh snorted. “Of course you do.”

  “Well, why wouldn’t you tell me?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “There are so few secrets between us, after all. I’m rather honored a spy would trust me with so much.”

  And the discomforting feeling in Hugh’s stomach reared its head.

  He had never lied to her, he told himself firmly. She had guessed, he had denied it—truthfully—and she had chosen to completely ignore everything he had said to the contrary.

  It was maddening.

  It was a good thing, Hugh thought, Beth would never find out the truth.

  “Hugh Shardlow!”

  “Fine, fine,” he said hastily, lifting his hands in mock surrender, though privately deciding he would not tell her what had actually been going through his mind at that moment. “I was just…I was thinking how proud I am of you.”

  The words had slipped out, avoiding his better judgment and entirely rushing past his nature before he could stop them. Heat tingled up his chest, but there was nothing he could do now. The words were spoken.

  Beth looked self-conscious, her cheeks pinking. “Y-You are?”

  “Few sisters would have done half of what you have already achieved in search of your brother,” he said earnestly, hating how artless he was being. “You truly are impressive.”

  Beth looked at her hands for a moment, and suddenly, all the warmth had left the room. He didn’t know how, but somehow, Hugh had said something wrong.

  “I-I didn’t mean to offend—”

  “And you didn’t,” Beth said hastily, looking up with a wry smile. “It’s more that…well. I was actually thinking, as we searched for somewhere to stay tonight…that perhaps it would be best if we…if I went home.”