Theo sat across from the two women and noted that the younger was quite pretty. Lovely even. Near a beauty. She might be considered a real gem if she weren’t looking at him with wide eyes and pursed lips.

Her dark hair was pulled into a neat coif, though curls framed her face. Her pale skin was creamy with lightly pinked cheeks, likely from the cold, and she had red lips that looked as though they’d been kissed by summer strawberries.

Her nose was straight and her chin and jawline formed a lovely frame to her high cheekbones. He’d forgotten how beautiful English misses could be.

He gave her a nod of acknowledgement and her eyes widened further, rather like a frightened deer. Would she run if he chased her? He gave his head a subtle shake to clear the thought. What was wrong with him? Perhaps he’d spent too much time in the sun after all. These women had helped him, though not out of the kindness of their hearts. He’d paid a handsome price.

“Forgive me.” The older lady delicately cleared her throat. “I am Lady Bradford and this is my daughter, Lady Violette Chase.”

Ladies? Picking up strangers and charging for carriage rides?

His gaze left Lady Violette’s face. Her cloak was of a fine quality and meticulous in its maintenance but now that he looked, he could see they’d been worn a great deal. They’d been repaired more than once, the stitching overlapped in several places. “Charmed,” he drawled.

He leaned his head back. Now that he was in a dry carriage, he may as well get some rest. At least close his eyes. The little doe across from him would never allow him to sleep. Behind his eyelids he was picturing all sorts of interesting scenarios that involved just the two of them in this carriage.

“And you are, sir?” Violette asked with a charm and tact that was perfectly fitting to a lady. Dream as he might, he seriously doubted she was available for anything other than marriage. Pity.

He opened his eyes to assess her as he answered. “Mr. Theodore Riley,” He used the family surname rather than his title. Considering the state of their clothing, if these ladies knew they had a duke in their carriage, who knew what they might try and extort from him?

She gave him a polite smile as she sat perfectly straight. “A pleasure, Mr. Riley.” One would have assumed from her voice she was completely at ease but her hands were clasped tightly together, creasing her gloves.

“And you as well.” He sat up a little. He watched her straighten further, which made her pull away from him. Just a touch, but still. He hadn’t thought it possible for her to have any better posture but there it was.

“Why do you travel on such a dismal day?” Her cloak hid most of her body but that didn’t stop his eyes from wandering down her length.

Lady Bradford answered, “We’ll stop for the night in the next town. But we continue on tomorrow. We’ve an appointment. Will you be able to provide your own travel tomorrow? If not, I am sure we could assist you.”

“I will but thank you for the offer,” he answered. It was kind and not required in the situation. Though she’d probably charge him extra. “And please allow me to pay for your room tonight at the inn. A token of my appreciation.”

Lady Bradford gave a terse nod, her head jerking in a tiny movement as the muscles in her face tightened. She didn’t enjoy taking his charity. That much was obvious. Something must have befallen these women that they now needed coin.

Lady Violette dropped her chin, looking down in her lap, clearly trying to hide a blush, though it stained her cheeks still.

They were embarrassed. His chest constricted as he trained his face into a bland look. It wouldn’t do to show that he’d seen their discomfort.

The English were exceptionally polite. He’d forgotten that.

The carriage rumbled on and he leaned his head back again, this time only pretending to close his eyes, but really, he watched Lady Violette through slits.

Her hands continued to clasp and unclasp and while she held herself perfectly still, her gaze darted to him every few seconds.

He wondered if she were curious about him or frightened. He scratched again at the growth on his face and he caught sight of the back of his tanned hand. He must look like a vagabond. It gave him a slight pang that he didn’t appear more polished. While he’d enjoy his mother’s disapproval, he hadn’t meant to frighten women who clearly had few options.

Biting back a growl of annoyance, he sat up and gave up the pretense of sleeping. Both women jumped, just enough to show their fear, and an actual growl snuck past his lips. Which made them jump again. He should have told them his title. He could stave off a few women, but frightening them was ridiculous.

“How much longer, do you have any idea?” he asked quietly, trying to keep his voice soft.

“I…I am not sure,” Lady Bradford answered. “My apologies.”

“No need to apologize.” He gave them a smile, but it felt forced and Violette winced before returning the gesture. She really was a little doe and likely worried about all the wolves in the woods. As well she should be.

A protectiveness he hadn’t felt in ages rose in his chest. The last time he’d felt like this, some older boys had teased his sister, Tricia, about her red hair. He’d interceded and gotten a black eye for his trouble.

Hell and damnation. What was happening to him?

He was staring again. Those blue eyes assessing her as though they could read her very soul. She’d been doing her utmost not to squirm under his gaze but it was difficult. “I can ask the driver if you like?” She would also like to know how much longer they’d be in this carriage. She found their guest…disconcerting.

She was afraid but also rather intrigued. He spoke like a gentleman, he looked like a dangerous highwayman, but there was a certain amount of excitement that surrounded him. She gave herself a mental shake. Excitement was not what she needed to find.

That emotion led to a lady’s ruin. What she needed was stability. A man who was responsible. Who’d care for not only her but her family as well. Highwaymen did not fit into her future or her present.

She wished he’d pretend to sleep again. It was easier to ignore his stare. She tired of looking out a bleary window. But as she stared a small farmhouse came into view and then a barn. Soon, Violette saw another and she realized they’d made it to the small village in Hampshire where they’d stay the night.

“We’re here,” she announced softly, turning with a bright smile. Truth be told, she was both relieved to have this tense journey at an end and, surprisingly, a touch disappointed. It had been one of the most interesting carriage rides of her life.

Mr. Riley sat up, his gaze openly fixed upon her. She looked up to the ceiling and then down at the floor, but still he stared. “You’ve a lovely speaking voice, Lady Violette,” he said in that low rumble that seemed to dance across her skin.

She gave a tight jerk of her head to accept the compliment. It would be rude to ignore it, but his attention knotted her stomach. “Thank you.”

The carriage pulled up to the Drury Inn and the driver stepped down to snap open the door. Mr. Riley exited first and then stepped aside to help her mother and then herself out. She blinked back her surprise at the gesture. As her gloved hand slipped into his, she held her breath to keep from sucking it in.

Those piercing blue eyes watched her with a precision that made her certain he’d seen her reaction as she once again dropped her gaze to the ground. Why did he turn her into such a mouse?

“Ladies, I will meet you in the inn. I first need to make accommodations for my injured horse.” Then he turned and was gone.

Violette and her mother hurried into the inn, looking for respite from the rain. Once safely tucked into the foyer, Violette turned to her mother. “Do you really think that was wise?”

“Hush.” Her mother waved her hand as though shooing a fly. Her fingers dropped abruptly, however, when she gave another cough. How unusual. Recovering, Lady Bradford picked up a bell that sat upon the desk and gave it a ring, its light tinkling filling the foyer. “It’s for me to decide. We’ve enough money to travel to Kent, if our visit with the Duke of Waverly doesn’t go as planned.”

Violette visibly shuddered. The man was a reclusive duke who hadn’t been seen in society since he’d inherited the title of the Earl of Westerly, and was known among society as a man with some unfortunate flaws. He was a heavy man, which didn’t make him unmarriageable, except for the fact gout had twisted his legs so that he walked painfully and with a definite limp.

Violette had enough of a dowry to make a match but only with the leftovers of society.

Not that a duke was regarded as ineligible. It was simply a case of him not being in attendance for any family to ever assess the match. Her mother, of course, was willing to make the journey sight unseen.

They stood waiting for the innkeeper. Her legs were sore and stiff from being in the carriage, it felt good to stand.

An older woman finally approached, rushing toward them as she balanced several plates in her hands. “I’ll be with you momentarily.”

Lady Bradford gave a nod as the woman disappeared again.

Violette heard the door to the inn open and she turned to see Mr. Riley step in behind them. That same tension that had filled the carriage infused the foyer of the inn and her spine snapped to attention.

“Have you not been waited on?” he rumbled as he joined them.

“Not yet.” Her mother gave a small huff. “They seem quite busy. I hope we are able to secure rooms.”

“We’ll secure them,” he replied. He neither sounded angry, nor overly confident. He only stated it as though it were a fact. Then he picked up the bell and gave it a quick ring. Its sound, rather than tinkling, was insistent as the noise echoed through the foyer.

The woman appeared again, her grey hair flying from its tight bun. As she approached, Mr. Riley narrowed his gaze once again. “We’ll take three rooms.”

Then he pulled another coin purse from his belt and sat it on the desk. “Of course,” the woman replied. She quickly snatched the purse, and started toward the stairway. “Right this way.”

Violette pressed her lips together to keep them from falling open while her mother gave an audible sigh. Her mother rarely engaged in such open displays of emotion. She understood her mother’s reaction, however. Mr. Riley’s efficiency, while appreciated, was rather demoralizing. The world was much more difficult for women alone.

As they reached the second floor, the lady began opening doors. Violette’s room was first and, as she stepped in, Mr. Riley turned back to all of them. “We’ll also need a table for dinner in an hour’s time.”

“Yes, me lord,” the woman replied.

If her mother thought to protest, she didn’t speak, which was Violette’s cue to remain silent as well. But Mr. Riley had just arranged their dinner plans without asking their preference at all. Violette stepped into the room and the door snapped closed behind her. Alone, she let out a very loud and long breath. Mr. Riley unsettled her. He was a mysterious man with whom she’d now be spending dinner.