Page 138 of The Earl She Once Saved

Win looked toward the empty hearth. “No.”

Then Verity was on horseback. She would never attempt the road alone on foot, and the old dog would follow her wherever she went.

Rafe thrust the letter back into Win’s hand. “Say nothing to Roland.”

“My lord—”

He was already moving. He knew which road Verity would take. The northern road led toward villages where she would be recognized and questions she could not avoid. The moor road led away from Roland’s creditors and the county’s gossip.

Rafe ran. His horse was saddled before anyone could ask where he meant to go. He mounted and drove him through the gates.

Moonlight silvered the road. Wind tore at his coat, sharp with rain and heather. The horse’s breathing grew harsh beneath him, but Rafe did not slow. He imagined Verity alone upon the moor. Roland might already know she had gone. Crote might have men upon the roads. One stumble in the dark, one frightened horse, and no one would know where to look.

The thought pressed his heels harder against his mount.

He rode until Edgeworth disappeared behind the hills and the sound of the ball was lost. Then, a dark shape moved ahead. It was a rider, with a dog that trotted beside the horse.

“Verity!”

The mare quickened. Rafe urged his horse alongside. Sergeant looked up, recognized him and came bounding across the road, with his tail moving as though nothing were wrong.

Whatever his mistress believed of Rafe, the old dog was pleased to see him.

“Faithless creature,” Verity spoke, but her voice was unsteady.

Rafe caught up with her, swung down, and caught her bridle before she could pass. Her mare tossed its head. He soothed it with one hand while holding the reins with the other.

“Release her.”

“No.”

“Stand aside.”

“Not until you hear me.”

Verity’s hood had fallen back. Her hair had partly escaped its pins. Her face was pale in the moonlight, and the tracks of tears remained upon her cheeks. The sight tightened around his heart.

When she finally looked at him, Rafe saw everything she had decided he was, another Thornlow who had allowed her to trust him only so he might make a fool of her.

“Celestine was right,” she began. “I should have understood that whatever you once—”

“No.”

The word stopped her. Rafe opened his hand. The pendant lay across his palm, its chain tangled around his fingers.

“I did not give this to Celestine.”

Verity looked at it but said nothing.

“Roland took it from your room. I found him giving it to Crote as payment.”

Her gaze lifted sharply.

“I tore it from Crote’s hand,” Rafe continued. “Celestine saw it when I returned to the ballroom. She lifted it from my palm before I could stop her.”

“You expect me to believe Roland entered my room?” she scoffed.

“How else could it have happened?”