Page 84 of The Forbidden Lord
He squeezed her hands. “Then tell me, darling. I promise, I’ll do whatever it takes to free you from Nesfield’s control.”
She lifted her gaze to his, torn unbearably between the urge to unburden herself and the sure knowledge that she couldn’t. If she told him about Lord Nesfield’s threats, he’d no doubt race back to London in a rage and threaten the marquess with bodily harm.
A lot of good that would accomplish. Lord Nesfield had an ironclad case against her, and no blustering or threats on Jordan’s part could change that. Indeed, Jordan’s interference would certainly prompt the marquess to act on his threats. And there was nothing Jordan could do to stop it.
No matter how much influence Jordan had, he couldn’t undo the events leading to her mother’s death. Or to the strange quirk of fate that had given Lord Nesfield power over her.
No, much as she longed to tell him, she mustn’t.
Her only recourse was either to convince him to turn back … or find some way to escape him between here and Gretna Green. The journey was long, after all, and they’d have to stop periodically. That was when she would make her escape. And if she did it soon, she might even reach London before too much damage had been done.
She glanced at his expectant face. In the meantime, she had to put him off.
“Emily?” he prodded. “Why don’t you tell me all of it?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
He grimaced, apparently sensing how close she’d come to revealing the truth. “It matters to me.”
“I’ll tell you. But not now.”
“When?”
What could she say that would pacify him until she could make her escape? It came to her in a flash of brilliance. “I’ll tell you after we’re married.”
Suspicion darkened his eyes. “So you’ve changed your mind? You’re saying you’ll marry me?”
She hated lying to him, especially about this, but what choice did she have? “Yes.”
“Why?”
She threw her hands up in a helpless gesture. “Because you’re giving me no choice, you ninny. I’m practical enough to realize I can’t fight you. So I’ll marry you.” When he still looked skeptical, she added bitingly, “Though you can’t expect me to like it.”
His lips tightened into a grim line. “You needn’t make it sound like a death sentence.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that … this will alter my life dramatically.”
“For the better, I hope.” Releasing her hands, he leaned back against the cushioned seat. “There’s no reason to wait until we’re married to tell me the truth, you know.”
“Once we’re married, I’ll be sure I can trust you. Then I won’t be afraid to reveal everything.”
His eyes glittered darkly. “Devil take it, you know you can trust me now.”
It tore at her to see the hurt in his face, especially now, when he looked so unlike an earl, all rumpled from sleep with his hair tousled. But she had no choice. “Please, Jordan,” she said softly, “you’ve already won. What does it matter if you wait a week or two to hear my sad tale?”
A strange light flickered in his eyes. “A week or two? No, I don’t suppose it does matter.”
She relaxed against the seat. Now she must figure out how to escape him. First, she had to stop the coach. Then she had to distract him long enough to escape. Hardest of all, she had to procure transportation to London. How in the world could she manage that?
Suddenly her stomach growled, providing her with a flash of inspiration. “Are you planning to starve me until we reach Gretna Green?”
“I wasn’t planning to starve either of us,” he said tersely. “I thought we’d eat breakfast in Bedford. I’m known at the White Cloak Inn. They’ll take good care of us.”
She didn’t want to be taken good care of, and she certainly didn’t want an inn where he was known. “How much farther?”
He knocked on the ceiling and repeated her question to Watkins. The answer made him frown. “I’m afraid it’ll be another couple of hours or so. You woke up sooner than I expected.”
“So,” she clipped out, “you do intend to starve me. What a wonderful way to begin a marriage.”
