Page 60 of A Game of Scandal

“I don’t know.” I chewed my lip, thinking. “As long as Mrs Finch can smooth things over with Mother, I think it might be best to stay out of the city for a time. I still don’t know exactly what Laing wants with me, if his actions are down to my rejecting his proposal or if – which I think is more likely – he knows about my connection to the Aviary and wants to use me against them somehow. Either way I’m in danger and a potential threat to my friends. Perhaps I should keep out of the way and let them get on with uncovering Laing’s plans.”

“Then maybe you should stay in Cambridge.”

“Maybe.”

“Why do you sound unsure?”

“Because I want to visit Cambridge!” I burst out. “And I’m trying to be sensible and decide what the most practical thing is. I can’t have my judgement clouded by this … this … want.”

Ash’s mouth kicked up into a smile. “It’s perfectly all right to want things, love.” The words had a rough sensuality to them that I was also trying hard to ignore in the name of remaining sensible. Cambridge wasn’t the only thing clouding my judgement. Despite the circumstances, I found myself wanting quite desperately to be wherever Ash was, and that didn’t seem practical at all.

“I’d have to find a hotel until I heard back from Mrs Finch. She’ll be clear-headed over the matter, will know what’s best. She may have an update on Laing. But I haven’t any money – even the clothes I’m wearing are borrowed from someone else.”

“Come now,” Ash chided. “Is that any way for an intrepid stowaway to talk? I should think that having nothing but the borrowed clothes on your back would be part of the adventure.”

“It does sound romantic,” I admitted. “But the reality is quite uncomfortable. They never really go into that in books, do they?” I turned the matter over in my mind. “Perhaps I could win some money at cards again.”

“A clever scheme,” Ash agreed. “Only you’ve nothing to stake. As it happens,” he continued before I could deflate too far, “I happen to know somewhere you could stay for a few days.”

“You do?”

“I do. And I think you’ll like it too.” He refused to be drawn further on this cryptic comment.

“So we carry on to Cambridge?” I asked.

“If that is what my lady desires,” he said, unfolding himself from his chair and getting to his feet. I was struck once more by the grace of his movements, there was something catlike about them. He held out his hand to me, and when our fingers touched and twined, I wondered if it would ever wear off – the electric feeling that crackled between us.

“I’m sorry I’ve delayed your journey,” I said, after we bid farewell to Patty and Ruth, heading back out into the sunshine.

“Believe me, I’m in no rush to reach Cambridge,” he said, and I thought perhaps there was some relief that he had someone who he could say such a thing to. “It’s nice to have the company.” He smiled down at me, and it was the sort of smile that set off starbursts in my chest.

“Now,” he continued, opening the carriage door for me, “you’re going to rest and relax for the rest of the journey.”

“I thought I’d ride up on the box with you,” I protested.

“Absolutely not. You’re injured. The best thing you can do is sleep, so that you’re sharp when we arrive in Cambridge.” Despite his easy expression, his jaw tensed, and I knew he was determined. For once, it felt nice to be looked after. It didn’t feel as if Ash thought I was weak or delicate; it was simply that he knew I was tired after a great deal of adventuring.

“Fine,” I said, stepping up into the carriage. I noticed as I did that the gleaming black door was painted with a golden coat of arms depicting lions and roses. “For all his faults, your brother had excellent taste in vehicles.” I settled myself back against the seat, luxuriating in the comfort.

“He had expensive taste,” Ash replied, and he closed the carriage door with a click, whistling as he climbed up on to the box and shouted out a hearty farewell to Sam.

We rattled out of the courtyard and back on to the road, and Ash spent the next few minutes entertaining me by singing loudly above the clatter of the wheels. I hadn’t heard any of the songs before, but they were both rude and funny, and I assumed he’d picked them up on his travels. One did not become a pirate enthusiast without learning a good sea shanty or two.

Giggling to myself, I snuggled down and closed my eyes. Thanks to Patty’s ministrations, I felt much better than I had, the blaring pains now reduced to an aching tenderness. It wasn’t long until the gentle swaying of the coach had me drifting into sleep.

This time when I woke there was no feeling of disorientation. Ash was whistling, and I knew somehow that he had kept up a constant stream of cheerful noise, so that I would be certain I wasn’t alone.

I looked out of the window and noticed that we were no longer lost in a sea of green but moving through a more built-up area – it felt as though we were probably on the outskirts, the edges of the spill of city life. As we turned down roads that got narrower and busier, the number of vehicles steadily increased.

I wondered where exactly Ash’s family estate was – it was unlikely it would be in the city itself. I thought about the difficult discussion he was going to have with his parents. Ash could have refused to bring them the carriage, sold it and used the money towards Perry’s debts. The fact that he hadn’t – that he was delivering it to them – told me he was perhaps not as determined to leave his family to fight their own battles as he had said. I hoped they wouldn’t take advantage of that.

I ran my finger over the fine gold inlay. I had admittedly never bought a carriage myself, but it seemed to me that something like this would have cost a small fortune. It was as elegant as anything Max owned, and he was a duke with a profitable estate behind him.

As I continued to absently trace the sweep of gold down the side of the seat, something rustled against my fingertip. It felt like a piece of paper. I pushed my hand further down the side of the cushion, scrabbling to get a grip on it. Once or twice I dropped it and it sank down further, but eventually I managed to extract the crumpled sheet from where it had fallen.

Smoothing it across my knees, my heart gave a hollow thump. I’d seen this handwriting before, in Laing’s warehouse.

It was not an entire document but one page of a letter, and the words were written in French. I translated it quickly as I read.