He turned his gaze to Eleanor. She had fallen asleep hours ago. It was actually quite nice to have her nearby. He could get used to it. She wasn’t loud and obnoxious like some ladies. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, but she wasn’t prone to idle chatter. All she wanted was a quiet corner of the world carved out just for her where she could be with people she cared for, who, in turn, cared for her.

  The only problem was that he couldn’t give her the life a lady like her deserved. While he managed to get by, he couldn’t afford the things she was used to. He could work for a hundred years and not earn the kind of money her father earned in one year. When she realized what she had gotten herself into, she was going to regret running to his residence without a chaperone. The marriage might bode well for him, but it wouldn’t bode well for her.

  Eleanor turned over in the bed and opened her eyes. She blinked when she saw that he was watching her. She sat up in the bed. She shouldn’t have done that. The moonlight might be dim tonight, but it wasn’t so dim that he didn’t notice the curve of her breasts under her chemise.

  “Is something wrong?” she asked.

  Face warm, he forced his gaze higher. She couldn’t tell he’d been staring at her breasts, could she? He cleared his throat. “No. I’m just…” Just what? Thinking of how he couldn’t give her the future she deserved while also thinking of how much he was looking forward to their marriage? After a moment, he decided on a better response. “I’m bored. Night watches are often boring.” Yes, that was good. And it was the truth, which made it even better.

  “Do you do these night watches a lot?”

  “I do. Most criminals act at night. It’s easier to hide in the dark.”

  She gave a nod then asked, “What time is it?”

  He retrieved the pocket watch from the small table by the window. “It’s only 1:43. You might as well get back to sleep. There’s a lot more night left.”

  He set the pocket watch back on the table and gave another look out the window. Not that it did any good. He could barely tell if anyone was out there. It was unfortunate the events that led to him and Eleanor going to Gretna Green didn’t occur when the moon was fuller.

  “I don’t think I can sleep,” Eleanor said as she pushed the blanket off of her. “All we did was sit in a carriage all day.”

  His eyebrows furrowed as she stood up. “We can’t leave now. The coachman needs his rest.”

  “I realize that.” She grunted under her breath. “Why do gentlemen think ladies lack any good sense?”

  His gaze went to her figure as she went to her valise. “I don’t think that about ladies. Plenty of ladies are smart. I’d trust my sister’s intellect over quite a few gentlemen’s.”

  “And me? Do I compare in intellect to your sister?”

  He was about to say yes when she lit the candle next to the valise. He jumped to his feet and hurried to snuff out the wick. What did she think she was doing?

  “I can’t keep watch if it’s light in here,” he said. “I need to be able to see what’s going on out there.” He gestured to the window. “Now isn’t the time to brush your hair.”

  She gasped in a manner that indicated she found his comment insulting. “I wasn’t going to brush my hair. I was going to grab my book and read.”

  “Well, you can’t.”

  “Nothing happened last night, and nothing is going to happen tonight.”

  “You can’t be sure of that.”

  “I can be mostly sure. You’re in the room with me. You’re a skilled Runner. We’re on the second floor of the inn. You blocked the doorway with a heavy dresser. Just what do you think the Duke of Winnett can do to me?”

  “It’s not just what he can do in here. It’s what he can do out there.”

  “What do you think he’ll do out there?”

  He paused. “I’m not sure what to expect from someone as meticulous as he is. I’ve never come across someone like him before.” He returned to the window and took a good look around the town. Even if he couldn’t see anyone in the shadows, it didn’t mean the duke might not slip and go into an exposed area. Granted, it was highly unlikely, but it was possible. “We have to be careful. Most of the time, waiting for someone to act can take days. Sometimes it can take weeks.”

  She groaned but went back to the bed.

  He breathed a sigh of relief. For a moment there, he was sure she was going to fight him about the book. She had a fire in her. It was a fire that intrigued him, but it wasn’t one he wanted when he was trying to make sure nothing bad happened to her.

  He sat back in the chair. Everything was quiet and calm out there. He would have to assume that the Duke of Winnett hadn’t made any moves while he had been away from the window.

  About ten minutes passed before Eleanor said, “I can’t sleep.”

  He glanced over at her and realized she was staring at the ceiling. “Close your eyes and remember that book you were reading in the carriage today.”

  “Why would I do that? I already know what happened up to the point where I stopped reading it.”

  “Then come up with a suitable ending for it.”

  “If I wanted to come up with an ending for the book, I would have written it.”

  “Think up an ending and then compare it to the ending that’s actually there. Maybe yours will be better.”

  She turned her gaze to him. “But if my ending is better, then it’ll ruin the ending in the book.”

  “What if your ending is worse? Maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised.”

  “Yes, I suppose that would be true.” She tapped her fingers on the mattress.

  He sensed she was getting ready to present a counterargument, so he asked, “What is it?”

  “Well, if my ending is terrible compared the book’s ending, then that will mean I’m a poor storyteller.”

  “So what if you are? Not all of us are meant to be writers.”

  She sat up in the bed. Before he had a chance to get a look of the outline of her breasts, she drew her knees up to her chest and clasped her hands around her legs. This might have been a nice view had her gown not been so long it went all the way to her ankles. He shook the thought aside. He had no business in thinking such things until after they married. He forced his gaze back to the window.

  “But I have created stories in my mind,” she said. “I started when I was young. I don’t recall how old I was when I came up with the first story. I might have been six. Maybe seven. All I know is that stories come to me without me even trying for them.”

  “Have you ever written them down?”

  “I wrote a couple when I was ten, but my governess told me it was better to leave writing to the authors.”

  That was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Doesn’t the fact that you wrote a story make you an author?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. She made it sound like writing was something only gentlemen should do.”

  That was further nonsense, but her father wasn’t inclined to take her thoughts or wants into consideration, so he wasn’t surprised. Why would he hire a governess for his daughter if the governess disagreed with him?

  “After we marry, you can write all the stories you want,” he replied. “I might not be able to afford much, but I can supply you with all the parchment and ink you’ll ever need.” He paused then glanced her way. “What kind of stories were you writing when the governess put a stop to your writing?”

  “Well, one had to do with a lonely rabbit who was tired of being stuck in her underground burrow, so she ventured into the forest to find out what other animals were out there.”

  When she didn’t continue, he pressed, “Did she find any animals?”

  “She did, and they invited her to their tea party in a sunny glade. But the other rabbits weren’t happy. They made her leave. The new friends she made rescued her, though, and she was able to escape. She was never lonely again.”

  “Were all of your stories like that?”

  “No. I had other ideas. That was my favorite one. When my governess found them, she made me get rid of them then forbade me from writing anything else.”

  That explained quite a bit. The governess had probably concluded that the lonely rabbit was Eleanor and that she hated being stuck out in the country all by herself. Though Eleanor probably hadn’t intended it, the other rabbits in her story had to be the governess, the servants, and, to a lesser extent, the father who refused to bring Eleanor to London.

  “Tell me something about yourself,” Eleanor spoke up after a minute of silence passed between them. “It seems like you know a lot about me, but I don’t know anything about you.”

  “I’m afraid there’s not much to tell. I’m just the way I seem. This,” he gestured to himself and the window, “is who I am. I’m a Runner. People hire me to figure out who has done them harm.”

  “All right. Then tell me how you decided to become a Runner.”

  “It wasn’t something that came to me right away. It just seemed to develop over the course of my childhood.”

  She let out a frustrated sigh. “Surely, there must be something that started you down this path. If I am to be your wife, I should at least know something personal about you. I already know you’re a Runner, and I figured out what you do as you’re out running around.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up at the way she worded the final part of that sentence. “All right. I’ll share something about myself. It’s not an exciting story, but it’s true. While growing up, my sister and I played hide and seek a lot. She’s older than me, so she was smarter than I was, and she used that to her advantage. She got so good at the game that she’d lead me to believe she had chosen one hiding spot when she had really chosen another. The better she got at hiding, the more enjoyable the game was. It was like piecing a puzzle together. I eventually became good enough at picking up clues that I didn’t fall for her fake hiding spots anymore. I could find her right away.” He chuckled. “Of course, by then, she lost interest in the game.”

  “So what did you do for entertainment after that?”

  “One of the younger children we grew up with lost a toy. My sister encouraged me to look for it. It took me two whole days, but I finally found it under the bed. It had gotten lodged between the leg of the bed and the wall. After that, other children started asking for my help in finding things. Someone said I’d be a good Runner. When I realized he was right, I found an experienced Runner who taught me what he knew, and here I am today.”

  She smiled. “Up to now, I could never envision you as a child. It’s nice to learn this side of you.”

  “What side?”

  “The side that isn’t serious all the time. There’s a part of you that likes to have fun and play. You’re still playing hide and seek. You’re just doing it as an adult.”

  “I won’t deny that I enjoy what I do, but some jobs are more serious than others. In hide and seek, no one’s life is at stake. It’s different with my job. Sometimes the best I can do is prove who murdered someone and see to it that the murderer is brought to justice. Thankfully, murders don’t come up often.” He hesitated to add more, but since she was attentive to everything he was saying and, as she had rightly pointed out, she was going to be his wife, he supposed he owed it to her to be honest with her. “My sister’s first husband was murdered. I didn’t think the situation was that serious, but he turned up dead while I was on another job. With the help of my sister’s second husband, I was able to find out who did it.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Yes, but I wish I had been more diligent in watching out for him. He shouldn’t have died. In the past, I only had to investigate situations where someone was already dead. This was the first time when someone died while I was on the job.” He shook his head. “I’m never going to let that happen again.”

  “Do you think the Duke of Winnett is going to kill me? Is that why you keep checking the carriage, blocking the doors of the room, and staying up all night at the window?” She paused. “I understand him trying to stop our marriage so he can marry me instead, but it makes no sense that he would kill me. How would that accomplish anything?”

  “Some people murder out of spite, but the most pressing issue is stopping him from kidnapping you.”

  She gave a slight shiver then settled under the blanket. “I can’t imagine being married to him. Every time he’s near me, I feel like snakes are crawling all over me.” She tucked the blanket around her. “I’m glad you’re here. With you keeping watch, I don’t have to worry about it.”

  She closed her eyes, signaling an end to the conversation. She may not have come out and said she was happy he was going to be her husband, but at least he knew she felt safe when she was with him. And that made him feel a lot better about the future he was able to give her.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The next afternoon, Eleanor yawned as she turned the page of the book. She might have been better off coming up with her own ending than reading this one. The story didn’t go at all like she’d wanted. She had spent a whole four hundred pages investing into the lives of the main characters, and now the author was killing all but one of them off. What was the point in reading a book if the ending was so morbid?

  She glanced at Byron who was still asleep. She didn’t know how he could sleep in a swaying carriage that hit the occasional bump in the road. He hadn’t opened his eyes since they left the inn that morning. She had tried to drift off to sleep a couple of times in this carriage since leaving London, but she kept jerking awake.

  She let out a sigh and decided to quit reading the book. She really didn’t feel like reading over the last conversation the two main characters were going to have with each other before one of them died. It had been depressing enough to read about the deaths of the other characters. She shut the book and set it on her lap. She only had one book left, and she wasn’t sure if she should start it today or wait until tomorrow. What if that was as awful as this one?

  The carriage made a turn on the path that allowed her to see if someone had been following them. She didn’t see anyone. For as far as she could tell, she, Byron, and the coachman were the only people out here. Did that mean the Duke of Winnett wasn’t following them? Maybe there was no need for all of the precautions Byron was taking. But even if there was no threat, she couldn’t blame him for being careful. He was used to taking his job seriously.

  She thought back to the conversation they’d had last night. It had been refreshing to see a new side to him. He was always so serious. She wouldn’t have guessed he had enjoyed playing as a child. As he’d spoken about playing hide and seek with his sister, there had been a hint of mischief in his voice. Even now, it made her grin. Perhaps a marriage with him might include some fun. She, for one, wouldn’t mind some more fun in her life. Growing up, everyone was so serious around her. Coming to London hadn’t changed that. Her father was obsessed with his social standing. Most people were also serious about everything. It was difficult to find people who wanted to enjoy the companionship of others without societal expectations getting in the way.

  Byron moved his head, and her attention went back to him. If she was right, he was beginning to wake up. He seemed to start moving around a bit before his eyes finally opened. She placed the book into her valise. Good. She was looking forward to talking with him again.

  He glanced her way before scanning the carriage.

  “Everything is the same as it was when you fell asleep,” she said. “The book, however, was awful. I would have been better off coming up with my own ending. I wasted most of the day hoping it would get better, but it never did.”

  He straightened up in the seat and checked his pocket watch. “Maybe the next one will be better. In the future, you can write your own stories then read them. That way you’ll get the ending you want. Unfortunately, there’s no way you’re going to write anything in this carriage.”

  “A more expensive carriage wouldn’t be much better. It’s impossible to write anything when you’re swaying from side to side.”

  He thought over her comment. “I suppose it is. You’ll have to settle for thinking up stories if you get tired of reading. If any of those ideas are good, you can write them down when we get back to London.”

  She tapped the edge of the seat as she contemplated asking the next question. She didn’t know why she hesitated to ask it. She needed to know what her life was going to be like when she returned to London. How was this marriage going to change things? She cleared her throat. “What can I expect when we return to London?”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “I’m not sure I understand the question.”

  “What will my life be like?”

  “Oh, you’re wondering if things will be like they were with your father.”

  She nodded.

  “I’m afraid not,” he replied. “You saw where I live. You saw the condition of my residence. That isn’t going to change. I might have a job, but it’s just enough to keep a roof over my head and put food on the table. Your father has denied me your dowry, which is to be expected given my status. Unfortunately for you, that means I can’t use your dowry to see to your comfort. All of the fancy dresses, the balls, and elaborate dinner parties are over. I’m not sure I can prepare you for what it’s really going to be like, but your lot in life isn’t going to be as nice as what you’re used to.”

  Yes, she had gathered that much already since she was there when her father said he would give Byron no money after the marriage. “I meant what will my social obligations be after we marry? Who can I talk to? Where can I go?”

  He paused for a long moment before saying, “I would avoid any association with unruly people. You want to be around people who are sincere and kind. Of course, you want to avoid unsavory places where all forms of criminal activity are likely to occur. Regardless of station, a lady is always better off sticking with respectable places doing respectable things. Bad company, after all, corrupts good habits.”