Page 134 of The Marriage Method

Nell didn’t need to inquire as to why. She’d understood as well as he had what the baron’s toast could have meant. “We can’t,” she replied. “We still have to speak to Mrs. Virtue.”

“To the devil with Mrs. Virtue. It’s too dangerous. If Amstead knows who we are—”

“Even if he does, he can scarcely admit it, can he? Not without revealing his connection to Mrs. Pritchard.” Nell limped to the fireplace, brow furrowed in thought. “He must have received an express from London. Either that, or Innes did. Something from Mrs. Pritchard, presumably, giving him my name and description.”

“Which is exactly why we’re going,” Miles said. “Now.”

“We can go tomorrow. After we visit Bricket Lodge.”

“Nell—”

“One more night won’t make a difference,” she said. “And consider, this may be our last chance to speak to Mrs. Virtue, and to find out whatever it was she told Mr. Cowgill. We can’t let the opportunity pass.”

Miles uttered a blistering oath.

“You know I’m right,” Nell told him.

He glared at her as ferociously as a baited bear.

She held her breath, waiting for him to issue some high-handed husbandly decree.

But he didn’t. He was far too sensible.

“Very well,” he said at last. “But after we talk to her, we’re on the next train to London.”

She exhaled. “Of course.”

“I want your word, Nell.”

“You have it,” she said.

Miles was unmollified. Stalking to the wardrobe, he stripped off his coat and tore loose his neckcloth, casting both over a chair.

He was all scowls and grumbles until they retired to bed. It was only then that his mood seemed to improve. He held her and loved her with such reverence, such tender care, that Nell quickly realized it wasn’t anger that had made him so cross. It was his overwhelming sense of protectiveness toward her. He was afraid she’d be hurt. That he would lose her somehow.

A remote possibility, but one that was obviously still plaguing him the following morning when they set out after breakfast in their borrowed one-horse gig.

Miles stared ahead in stony silence as he drove over the remote country road. He wasn’t happy; that much was clear. Had it been up to him, they’d be heading to the platform halt instead of to Bricket Lodge.

“Have I shown you the spring mechanism on my new cane?” Nell asked when the silence between them had stretched on for nearly a mile. She lifted the sleek black walking stick from the seat beside her. It was narrower than her raven’s head cane, with a plain, curved handle. “I need only press the inset button thusly and…voilà!” A blade shot out from the bottom of the cane. “Look how sharp it is.”

“If you’re attempting to reassure me,” Miles said, still staring straight ahead, “you’re doing a poor job of it.”

“What could be more reassuring than a spring-loaded blade?”

He flashed her a repressive glance. “This may come as a shock, but the thought of you fighting some villain with that cane does absolutely nothing to ease my mind.”

“I’m not inept, you know.”

“As I’ve observed. May I remind you that you’re also injured.”

She flushed. “I’m accustomed to my leg being—”

“I’m not talking about your leg. I’m talking about your shoulder.”

Nell fell quiet. He did have a point. “It doesn’t matter in any case,” she said at length. Retracting the blade, she set her cane back down on the seat. “In a few short hours, we shall be safely back in London.”

“Yes,” he said firmly. “We will.”