Page 95 of A Dangerous Engagement

“Did you kiss my forehead?”

“Perhaps.”

“I hope you don’t think I am a woman of loose virtue.”

“Indeed, I do not. Forgive me if I have offended.”

“I am not offended.” She pressed closer and hugged his arm. “But I am very sleepy. And thirsty.”

Voices drifted into the cave through the round opening overhead. Had they tracked them here, to the grotto? Or were they on the path to the parsonage?

“What will happen if they find us here?” she asked.

“I have a pistol in my coat pocket, and I will have to shoot them. That is, with your permission.”

“Why do you need my permission?”

“Because they may shoot back. They could shoot us.”

“Oh, then I give you my permission. But I don’t think they could shoot us, because you will shoot them first.”

Her argument was not rational, for several reasons, but he said, “Thank you, Miss Mayson. I appreciate that you trust me to shoot better than our enemies.”

“I do trust you.” She seemed to rub her cheek against his arm.

His heart expanded, filling his chest with warmth.

He had forgotten about the voices. He should be listening to see if they were coming closer. Straining to hear them, he listened until his ears roared with the silence. The voices had gone.

And Miss Mayson was asleep again.

Felicity was jostled awake as someone lifted her and began carrying her.

“Where are we?”

“We’re leaving the shell grotto,” Mr.McDowell said. “We will see if we can make it to the carriage I stowed away in Mr.Birtwistle’s carriage shed.”

“You shouldn’t have to carry me everywhere. I should be able to walk.” She had been walking for years, after all.

“Stand here. Miss Appleby, Mr.Birtwistle, make sure she doesn’t fall.”

Mr.McDowell held on to Felicity’s arms until someone else came near and put an arm around her.

“I have her,” Mr.Birtwistle said.

She heard rustling, and a bit of light filled her hungry eyes. She took a step toward that light, and Mr.McDowell came back and put an arm around her. He helped her up the earthen steps and out into the night air. He pulled her along, but gently, as he kept up a quick pace. Mr.Birtwistle and Aunt Agnes were close by—she could see them by the moonlight overhead. She held on to Mr.McDowell’s coat to keep her balance.

If she had been at liberty to speak, she would have said, “I hope I remember this night forever.”

They had been walking for a while when they heard horses coming, and Mr.McDowell directed them into the trees. They waited, and Lady Blackstone and Mr.Ratley appeared on horseback in front of them.

“They must have gone to London. Perhaps we can catch up to them,” Mr.Ratley said.

“Check all the inns between here and London,” Lady Blackstone said, an edge in her voice. “They can’t have gone far on horseback, not with Miss Mayson, and there were no carriage tracks near the house.”

Mr.Ratley nodded, and they both spurred their horses forward.

Felicity stared at Mr.McDowell’s face, which was unmoving as he watched Lady Blackstone and Mr.Ratley leave. Such a handsome face. There was so much courage and loyalty and integrity in that face. She loved it. She loved him.