Hugh had been on the road heading towards London for only a few moments when he’d seen the pair of runaway horses, still dragging bits of their broken harness and rigging behind them. He’d managed to catch them before any further damage could be done to the wild eyed beasts. He’d left them tethered near the road, happily munching on grass and staring after him suspiciously.

Now, having rounded a bend in the road no more than a mile or two from where he’d left those horses, he could see the wreckage of a carriage in the distance and the figures of two woman walking toward him.

It was obvious from their body language that they were frightened. Given the circumstances, it was easy enough to understand why. Two women alone, following a carriage accident, on a rarely traveled road—by its very nature, the situation was a recipe for either disaster or tragedy. Hoping to allay their fears, he called out, “Hello… I’ve come from Seffington Park! Our hostess was quite concerned for you!”

He was too far away to see their faces clearly, but he saw the taller woman stiffen immediately. Her shoulders went back and her chin came up. There was something hauntingly familiar in the way she moved, in the haughty and dignified way she carried herself.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Even as the denial sprung to his lips, he knew that it was her. She moved like a queen, or perhaps a general. When she stopped at the sound of his voice, clearly stunned, there was no question. He was, regardless of his role as rescuer, the last person in the world she would wish to see. It might also be true to say that she was the last person in the world that he’d wish to face. There was nothing so terrifying as looking into the eyes of the one you had most wronged and being confronted with his own cowardice was an ugly and bitter thing.

Against every instinct he possessed, he continued forward, forcing himself to confront a past he’d thought long buried. The nearer he drew to the pair of them, the more evident her distaste for the situation became. She kept her gaze averted, refusing to even look at him. He could not blame her. Had their situations been reversed, had she destroyed his life as he had done to her, then he’d have little enough to say to her, as well.

To the woman whom he did not know, Hugh introduced himself. “Forgive me, madam. I am Fitzhugh Elliott, Lord Elwynn. I am most pleased to make your acquaintance and to offer what assistance I may.”

The woman, pretty enough though appearing slightly vapid, smiled and tittered. “Thank you, Lord Elwynn. I am Mrs. Rachel Wilmont. My husband was Mr. Drummond Wilmont of Derbyshire. It’s a pleasure to meet you, my lord, and we are ever so grateful for your assistance! Aren’t we, Augusta? I believe you know companion, Lord Elwynn? Miss Augusta Penworth?”

“We’ve met.” Her reply had been snapped, each word bitten off and clipped before he could even form an answer. “But that was all a very, very long time ago,” she finished.

“Not so very long,” he corrected. “You’ve hardly changed at all.”

“The most profound changes are not discernible by a simple glance, my lord,” she answered smoothly.

There was a coolness in her tone, a hardness that while he deserved it, its presence pained him. It pained him because he knew beyond the shadow of any doubt that he was entirely responsible for its presence. His carelessness and the machinations of marriage minded mamas and malleable young women had dramatically altered the courses of both their lives. His, while not ideal, had been manageable at least. Hers, based on their means of transport and the obvious age of her gown, had been something else altogether.

“We can become reacquainted better once we are warm and dry at Seffington Park,” he offered.

“We had intended to go to Seffington Park, my lord, but our plans have changed… we have leased a small cottage on the estate and wish to go there instead.”

“But Augusta,” Rachel protested, “Cousin Daisy is expecting us! I cannot think of hurting her feelings by being so callous now!”

Hugh could see the protest forming on her lips. It was there in her stormy grey eyes and in the firm set of her chin. But in the end, she simply sighed and capitulated to her friend. “Naturally, Rachel. We could not possibly rescind our acceptance of the invitation now. It would be quite rude and your cousin has been kind and very generous to us both.”

Rachel clapped her hands with the delight of a child, or a woman just entering her first Season. She had the manners of a young girl fresh from the schoolroom, though she was well past it. But it wasn’t artifice. Hugh sensed that in her—that she was truly delighted at such small things.

“I will take one of you up with me and the other may ride,” he offered.

“I’ll ride,” Mrs. Wilmont said, though any delight had faded from her pretty features. She looked positively terrified at the prospect.

“Nonsense,” Augusta stated firmly. “You’ve little experience riding and a horse can sense your fear. I will take the mount while you ride pillion with Lord Elwynn.”

It was tempting to let the other woman have her way. It would put Augusta in his arms again, prickly though she might be. But his conscience forbade it, Mrs. Wilmont was clearly terrified and she would likely injure herself if not worse. “She’s quite right, Mrs. Wilmont. If you’re not an experienced equestrienne, given these weather conditions and the fright you’ve already had, I would advise against it.”

Her soft, pretty features screwed into a frown as she tried to find a way out of it, a way to throw Augusta more firmly in his path. She wasn’t subtle in the least but he’d certainly award her points for determination.

“Miss Penworth and I will have ample time to reacquaint ourselves while at Seffington Park,” he assured her.

She smiled in capitulation. “You’ll need to help Augusta since there is no mounting block. And she’s not been on horseback in years herself!”

Hugh dismounted easily and patted his horse in a silent command for it to stay put. It didn’t always work, but often enough that he didn’t fear making too much a fool of himself. Augusta stood stiffly next to the horse, eyeing the side saddle with cool disdain. She’d preferred to ride astride, he recalled. And it had been a thing of glory to behold, scandalous as it was.

“Had I known it was you, I would have requested a regular saddle,” he said softly.

“Had I known it was you, I’d have walked back to that broken down coach and taken my chances… Let us not pretend to be friends, Lord Elwynn.”

“If not friends, what are we?” Hugh asked, as he cupped his hands to offer her a leg up.

“You are a man who cannot keep his word, and I am a woman who knows your measure. That is all,” she said emphatically and then, with all the dignity of a queen, despite her muddy gown and disheveled hair, she placed her muddy left knee into his clasped hands so that he could boost her into the saddle.

Hugh could feel the tension in her, her body all but quivered with it. And when she had to place her hand on his shoulder to steady herself. It took only that simple touch and something arced between them that he could not deny and she would never admit. Their eyes met for the briefest moment. She looked away first, eyes forward, expression implacable and her facade shored up by reserves he, at that moment, did not possess.

“That is a very simplistic version of our truth, Augusta,” he admonished softly.

“The truth is always simple, my lord. Only lies become complicated… We should go. It’s becoming quite chilly.”

That it was, he thought. That it most certainly was.