“You must go,” Mary said. “And quickly.”

He reached into his pocket and extracted his purse, extending a handful of coins to Mary. “You’ll follow. In my coach.”

Her brows rose. “Why?”

He knew pride when he saw it in the young girl’s eyes. Knew she would not accept charity in any sense. He’d had to badger her into accepting the room Sophie had insisted he pay for. “Because we’re going to hire another carriage. And those men shall think that you three are us. In my coach. Hieing north to Scotland.”

“To elope!” Bess spoke for the first time.

Sophie looked to the young girl. “What do you know of eloping?”

“I don’t,” Bess said, honestly. “But I know people do it in Scotland.”

“As a matter of fact,” King said to the little girl. “I think they just might believe we are eloping.”

“Are you?” Mary asked.

“No!” Sophie said without hesitation.

He turned to her. “Another man would take offense at how quickly you discount my eligibility.”

She raised her brows at him. “Another man might be less of a cad than you are, my lord.”

He thought of the events in the public hallway downstairs and refrained from argument.

“Where will you go?” Mary asked.

“North. And quickly.”

Mary worried her lip, considering them both. “I don’t know that it’s proper for you to leave without chaperone, my lady.”

King was certain he hadn’t heard the girl correctly.

Sophie shook her head. “I preferred Mrs. Matthew.”

“But you’re not Mrs. Matthew. You’re an earl’s daughter. You should have a companion.”

“I have the marquess.”

Mary cut him a look. “I’m no highborn lady, but even I know he’s not an acceptable chaperone.”

If the girl only knew half of it.

“He’ll do fine,” Sophie said. “The marquess doesn’t even care for me.”

Mary looked from Sophie to King, and he had the distinct impression that she did not believe the words. “My lord, you understand that we feel quite possessive of the lady. What with her saving our lives.”

He nodded once. “I do.”

“Then you understand, also, that if you hurt her, I shall have to gut you.”

He blinked, grateful that the girl didn’t know half of it. Because she clearly meant the threat, and King wasn’t certain she did not have the guts and skill to do it. “I do.”

Satisfied, Mary nodded. “What shall we do?”

“Stay here. Try to throw them off our scent for a few hours to let us get away. Stay a few days, if you like.” He gave her a handful of coin from his purse. “That will keep you weeks if you need it. When you’re ready, my coachman will bring you and my luggage to my country seat.”

Mary was uncertain. “We were headed to Yorkshire. There’s a place there. I hear we’ll be safe.”

King shook his head. “There’s a place for you in Cumbria, as well. Or Wales. Or any number of other places. For John and Bess, as well. You shall all be under the protection of the Duke of Lyne.”

“Cor!” John said.

“A duke!” Mary said.

Someday soon. And he’d try his damnedest to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves. Perhaps, finally, he could do it.

Sophie looked to King. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when we’re off,” he said, pushing her toward his nearby chest. “You must dress. You’re leaving the pub the same way you came in.”

“Shot and passed out?” John asked.

King lifted the stained-but-clean livery that sat atop the luggage and handed it to Sophie. “As a footman.”

Chapter 10

QUININE: THE CURE

FOR CARRIAGE QUEASINESS

Sophie and King were on the road in less than an hour, Mary and John doing their best to distract the men who searched for them as Sophie clung to the back of the hired carriage, grateful for her prior experience.

Minutes up the road, the carriage stopped, and she scrambled inside, King rapping sharply on the roof to set them once more in motion. “We won’t stop until we reach Cumbria,” he said, “except to change horses. And you will stay hidden. At best, you have a few days before your father’s men find you. If they think you’re with me, they’re already headed to Lyne Castle.”

She shook her head. “My father will receive notice of my plans for Mossband tomorrow. He shan’t bother you after that.”

King raised his brows. “Your father will want my hide, I’m guessing. Doubly so when he discovers you’ve been shot on my watch.”

“That’s nonsense. You weren’t there. You weren’t watching.”

“I should have been,” he said, leaning back in the seat, but before she could consider the words, he said, “Did you pack your tea?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“And the honey?”

“I did.”

“And fresh bandages?”

“I am not a child, my lord. I understand the concept of leaving a place with important possessions.”

He looked away, out the window, and she leaned back in the seat across from him, and attempted not to think of the day. Any of it.

But she couldn’t help herself. “You rescued me again.”

“It wasn’t rescue.”

“It was. You knew I did not wish to return to London.”

He did not reply for long minutes. And then he said, “Someday, I’ll learn to leave you to your own devices.”