“If we switch out our cattle and postilion by night as well, the post-chaise will be considerably faster than the mail coach. I—”
She grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the mews and around the corner, where they were out of sight of the house. Henry let himself be towed.
“No,” she said again when they were alone. “I can’t let you do this, Henry.”
He blinked down at her. He wasn’t wearing a hat, and though the rain had stopped, the air was cool and misty, and his damp hair had a tendency to curl at the ends. “Were you not in my sitting room less than an hour ago begging me to do this very thing?”
“Beggingseems rather a strong word”—it had definitely been begging—“but in any case, I’ve thought better of it. I was wrong before.”
“What on Earth is going through your head?”
She poked a finger into Henry’s chest. “You!”
DearLord,the man was solid. Had she a completely wrongheaded idea of what solicitors did all day? What did that rock-hard torso look like underneath his clothes?
Margo buried the errant thought but couldn’t quite stop herself from poking him again. “Youare going through my head. You were right. You have a position, one you’ve worked very hard for. I amtryingto do the right thing here, Henry. I am trying not to draw others into my misadventures.”
They had been the Halifax Hellions—ladies of infamy, darlings of the scandal sheets—for seven years now. It had been splendid for most of it—she and Matilda, thumbing their noses at the world. And then, somehow, it had become something rather different.
An expectation that they would once again outdo themselves. Another engraving, another scandalous headline. Another mistake.
She was not certain what she meant to do about her notoriety, exactly. But she knew she had hurt Matilda. And she did not want to hurt Henry as well.
“It dawned on me as I rode home,” she said. “If you are seen with me at a coaching inn on the way to Scotland, it could damageyourreputation with your clients. It was selfish of me to ask you to come along.”
Henry was staring at her, had been staring at her all throughout her little speech. At this last, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
She was probably giving him a headache. She was fairly certain she had that effect on people.
“It wasn’t selfish,” he said finally. “I—look, Margo, I’m worried about Matilda too. The two of us together will have a better chance of finding her than you alone, won’t we?”
She bit her lip, unable to deny the sense of Henry’s words. He was impossibly sensible. “Undoubtedly.”
“Then it’s no more selfish of you to ask me to come along than it is for me to tell you I will.”
She let herself look at the travel bag dangling from Henry’s shoulder. “You really want to come with me?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Henry said, “but yes.” He held out a hand, palm up, and she hesitated for a long moment. She weighed his words against the desire that rose in her, strong and sharp, to protect him.
But she needed to go after her sister. Shehadto find Matilda.
Margo placed her hand in Henry’s.
“Let’s find a post-chaise,” he said. “And then let’s go to bleeding Scotland.”
Chapter 4
“Now, listen, Margo. I think it’s time we made a plan.”
Margo looked up at Henry with a start. They were well out of London now, and the road was growing pitted, the carriage swaying from side to side. She’d been watching him sit stiffly in the center of the bench, and every time the carriage took a sharp jounce, she wascertainshe could see the muscles of his thighs flex to hold himself in place.
Good Lord, she was demented. How long had she been staring at the man’s legs? This wasHenry,she reminded herself. Sober, patient, virtuous Henry.
“I thought we had a plan,” she said. “Is this whole journey not the culmination of our plan?”
“Youhad a plan,” he said flatly. “And it makes no sense.”
Margo couldn’t help herself. She pinched her lips together and raised her chin. “No one asked you to go along with it.”
