Page 25 of Persuasions of an Earl's Daughter

So it made sense that she should have no real feelings either.

None whatsoever.

Why would she want August to even remotely like her when she didn’t like him?

She most certainly didn’t want to kiss him. Or think about how his hands molded to her back and how his breaths had thickened and smelled of mint.

All she wanted to do was escape.

She retrieved her gown from the nearby chair, grimacing at the feel of the cold, damp fabric as she tugged it on over her head. Lilly put a finger through the hole carved through the gown to feel the cotton Mrs. Lambert had bound around her abdomen. At least the gash in the fabric wasn’t too big, she supposed.

Her soggy, disheveled state wasn’t so easily hidden. She peered at her reflection in the mirror, just able to make out a wild halo of dark hair that tried desperately to cling to the pins in her hair. She smirked at her fuzzy reflection.

No wonder he didn’t really want her.

Shaking her head, she crushed the thought. Since when did she care what men thought? With the exception of her brothers-in-law and her father and on occasion, her brother Anton, she found the opposite sex to be far too self-involved and entirely dismissive of her. If anyone was self-involved it was August. In fact, if there was anyone more self-involved, she’d be shocked.

Simply because he’d ridden after her to come to her rescue and seemed to have the tiniest charitable element to him did not mean anything. All her years of guiltily sneaking a read of the scandal sheets had taught her all she needed to know of the man. Whilst everyone knew many of the stories were exaggerated, they didn’t come from nowhere. There was always a hint of truth behind the shocking tales.

Head held high, Lilly stepped into the parlor room to find August seated at the table, devouring a bowl of stew as though nothing had happened.

As though he had not touched her so gently or made strange sensations stir low in her belly at the feel of his hardness pressed against her leg.

He dropped the spoon into the bowl, sending little splashes of gravy onto the pristine white tablecloth. They were going to owe Mrs. Lambert a lot more than their gratitude for getting caught up in this mess between them.

“What do you think you are doing?” he demanded.

“I’m going back to the inn.” She took a deep breath. “Then I am taking the carriage and going to Grantham.”

“No you are not.”

Lilly saw Mrs. Lambert’s gaze flick between them whilst the tiniest glimmer of a smile lingered on her lips. She likely thought this was a little tiff between husband and wife.

This was no tiff. This was hot fury making Lilly’s heart thud so hard she felt it in every inch of her body. How dare he make her feelthingsthen tell her it was nothing? How dare he remind her of her own insignificance?

“I am and you cannot stop me.”

“A broken carriage wheel might.” He picked up the spoon and resumed his meal.

Lilly glared at him. “Whatever do you mean?”

“The reason your aunt was delayed was due to a carriage wheel. You won’t be going anywhere.”

She balled both fists at her side. The man just had to have an answer for everything. “I can still join her at the inn.”

“You’re not taking my horse.” August declared this without even looking her way.

It grew hard to breathe as her chest tightened. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t. The man had no heart, clearly. Icarus would be at the hands of merciless men who only wanted him to make a quick profit. They would sell him to anyone willing to pay and there was no guarantee he would be treated well. Even then, he wouldn’t be loved, not like Lilly could love him. Icarus knew and trusted her, and she was certain he would be missing August’s uncle. He needed to be with her and her alone.

Which meant she had to find a way to get to him, broken carriage wheel or not. All she had to do was make her way back to the inn, explain to Aunt Sarah what she had found out and they could hire another carriage to get to Grantham. From there, they would ask around and—

Well, she had yet to figure that part out.

“What is in Grantham?” Mrs. Lambert asked.

“My horse,” Lilly said at the same time as August said, “The horse I should have inherited.”

“I see,” the old lady said though her brow remained furrowed.

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