Page 42 of Not a Fine Gentleman

Of course. As the daughter of an earl, she would be.

Then she added, “But truly, Meg is acceptable.”

“As you wish, Meg.”

He glanced back, and they exchanged a rather comradely grin. He absolutely should not feel any sort of comradely feelings for her. She was an assignment. A case. Quite probably a cold-blooded killer. And so far above him that no further thought was required. Or prudent. Or sane.

Even her family connections might prove inadequate to protect her from the blood hunt that the lords were probably on right now to convict someone—anyone—of murdering a marquis. The crown was out for blood—hers.

Unless he was assigned to work the case, none of this would be his responsibility. He must trust the wheels of justice to discover the truth.

A posting inn came into view. Meg kept her head lowered so her bonnet hid her face while Connor secured passage on a post chaise. After enjoying a midday meal—a less eventful occasion than breakfast—the postilion announced the horses were hitched up, and the post chaise was ready for departure.

Meg said a surprisingly affectionate farewell to the nag she’d been riding, cooing and stroking her neck and face. She gave the stablemaster a dazzling smile. “You’ll put her to pasture for the rest of her life? You’ll see that she’s taken care of?”

“I give you my word, ma’am,” the stablemaster said solemnly, already under the spell of her bewitching beauty.

“Send a bill to my brother, the Earl of Tarrington. He will compensate you.”

The stable hand bowed, immediately becoming even more respectful in deference to her rank. Or her natural charm. “I vow it, my lady.”

“Thank you, good sir.”

He bowed and led the nag to a paddock behind the inn.

“I doubt I have access to my money at the moment, all things considered.” Margaret shot Connor a wry smile. “Cole will understand about the horse.”

With no idea what to say to that, Connor jerked his chin toward the post chaise with four horses waiting. “Coach is ready.”

Connor handed Meg into the conveyance and seated himself next to her. After closing the door, he waved out the front window to signal the postilion they were ready. With a lurch, they headed out.

They traveled day and night, changing horses and drivers frequently. Connor slept with one eye open, so to speak, especially at night when highwaymen attacks were more likely.

Meg dozed, her head bobbing, often waking her. He finally guided her head to his shoulder so she could sleep more comfortably. She sighed and nestled into him. Odd how she always seemed tall and formidable, but in reality, she was a fairly petite woman; her head barely reached his eye level, even seated. The warmth of her head soaked through him. The comfort of such a small act pressed against the edges of his heart.

It had been ages since he’d held a woman in his arms. Too long. Perhaps she was right; he worked too much. He really ought to set aside some time for more pleasurable pursuits—preferably nothing involving a stubborn woman who, he hoped with increasing fervor, was not capable of murder.