She had not heard him at all, he realized. Her only concern at this moment was to be rid of him.

  Well, he had wondered what she might say. Now he knew.

  Vaughn turned and walked away, as she had asked him to do, which took more strength than all the years in a prison cell combined had pulled from him.

  Adam halted the carriage when the track through the trees narrowed to the point where he was in danger of scraping the sides of the vehicle against the mighty firs which grew over most of the peninsula. There was enough room to one side, just here, where he could turn the carriage with some hefting and pulling.

  He climbed down and patted the mare’s neck, before drawing in a deep breath and moving back to the carriage itself.

  He opened the door.

  Ann was scrunched in the far corner of the carriage, her face white. She had removed the veil and her gloves. Despite the time it had taken to escape the town and reach this lonely spot in the forest, she still trembled. Her deep brown eyes were very large as she blinked at him.

  “Silence, as requested, mademoiselle,” Adam said.

  She swallowed. Her chin trembled.

  “Come out into the sun,” he told her. “It will help.”

  “Then…you are not angry with me? Or disappointed?”

  Adam considered. “Neither.”

  “Oh…”

  He wasn’t certain if that word held surprise or relief. Possibly, both.

  “Although,” he added, “you do realize that instead of restoring the family’s reputation, you have further sullied it, today? You left a Norwegian noble standing at the altar. He will not thank you for that.”

  It was the wrong thing to say, even though he had meant it partly in jest. What did he care about the family’s reputation? He had done well enough without it until now.

  Ann’s chin wobbled. Her eyes filled with sudden, glittering tears. Then they rolled down her face.

  “I’m sorry. That was…” He sighed and gestured. “Come here. Come along. Sun and fresh air will help.”

  Her hand shook as she took his and pulled herself along the seat. Then, moving carefully, she stepped down to the soft earth. She bundled up the ridiculously long train over one arm, but there was too much satin and ermine for one small woman to hold by herself.

  Her tears rolled harder as she fought to contain the mass.

  “Stop, stop,” he told her. He clicked his tongue, irritated that he hadn’t thought this through properly. He had no experience with royal garments and feminine excesses. His two younger sisters were self-contained women, who always seemed perfectly turned out and never fussed over their appointments.

  Only, Ann was upset, he reminded himself. Just as anyone would be.

  He went back to the driver’s seat and pulled out the toolbox beneath it. This was the hack his father had rented to bring them to the cathedral. Adam had stopped to reassure the horse while the driver went to relieve himself at an inn farther down the road. Adam had judged the man to be good with the horses and a skilled driver. Every good driver kept a toolbox beneath the bench for emergencies.

  There was a stout knife in this one, as Adam had expected. He hefted it and returned to the coach. Ann perched in the doorway, the train behind her, her shoulders slumped.

  Adam showed her the knife. “I can cut the train from the dress, if you like.”

  Her lips parted.

  “That is…if you believe you will have no further need of it,” he added carefully. He wasn’t certain what was in her mind. Did she need to draw a full breath for only a short while, before returning to save her family’s reputation? Or was something else driving her away from the cathedral, something he had not seen in the stable that day at Innesford?

  Ann twisted to look over her shoulder into the carriage. She drew a breath. “Yes,” she said. Adam suspected the word was meant to sound firm, but her voice shook. “Cut it off. Here, let me show you where to cut—”

  “I know my way around a woman’s gown,” he assured her.

  Ann’s cheeks deepened to a mortified red.

  “I deal with gowns and tea dresses all the time. I have crates of them in a warehouse not far from here,” he told her. “That is what I meant by saying I have handled a great many of them.” He added, “and not when the lady was wearing them.”

  Her cheeks turned even darker. Her whole face had flushed. “Well…um…”

  “You must hold the folds of the bustle aside. The train is a separate garment,” he added, putting as much authority into the pronouncement as he could. In fact, he had never handled such a fine gown, but he would not tell her that for she was unnerved enough already. He could see how the lines of the gown ran, though. The train emerged from beneath the bustle and hung freely from the back skirt of the dress itself.

  “Step forward,” he told her. “Draw the train out so I can reach it.”

  Ann took the requested step or two, then turned and gathered up the drapes and folds of the bustle and held it up.

  The train had been stitched to the skirt up by the waist, as Adam suspected. He sliced delicately at the stitches and learned why seamstresses insisted upon using dainty little sheers to snip at threads. He was in danger of slicing the dress itself apart, too.

  “You have whole dresses in crates?” Ann asked. Her voice still shook, echoing the trembling he could feel running through her body.

  He did not let his thoughts linger upon the enormity of what she had done today. If she did not intend to return to the cathedral, then the scandal would rock Europe. Better to deal with that once he had this frippery removed and could put the knife back down. So he answered her polite question. “I have whole dresses in crates.”

  “Already made?” she asked. “For whom?”

  “For whoever wants to buy them.”

  “You sell dresses to ladies? How do you know what size to make them?”

  The train was pulling away nicely, now, and drawing the thread out with it, which made it easier to slash. He concentrated on the work and spoke absently. “I sell dresses to dress shops. The dress shops sell to ladies. The dresses are made in different sizes. A lady picks the size most suited to her and adjusts it at home.”

  Ann did not speak for a long moment. “I have heard of such things. The ladies at Great Aunt Annalies’ house were interested in buying one, only it was so very reduced in price compared to a normal dress, they were suspicious.”

  Adam straightened with a snap. “They did not buy a ready-made dress because it did not cost enough?”

  Ann glanced at him. The color in her cheeks had receded, but the flesh was still damp from tears. “That was the general consensus at the dinner table, yes. Why?”

  “A remarkable insight,” Adam muttered and went back to picking stitches. “I must try that…”

  “Try what?” Ann demanded, with an impatient tone he recognized. His family used that tone when he spoke only half a thought, and they wanted the rest of it.

  “I must increase the prices of the dresses and demand more of the shopkeepers who buy them, which will force them in turn to demand more when they sell them. It will allay a ladies’ suspicions about the quality.”

  “Then the quality is comparable to a normal dress?” Ann asked.

  “It is Kirkaldy tweed, made in their factories. Do you dispute the quality of Kirkaldy tweed or the garments they make?”

  “No, of course not…oh, I see. It is all in the way you look at it, isn’t it?”

  Adam tugged away the last of the stitches and gratefully put the knife upon the step. He shoved the train back into the carriage. “There.”

  Ann dropped the bustle back into place and straightened her shoulders. “Thank you.”

  “Is that what happened today?” Adam asked. “Did you look at the wedding in a different way?”

  Ann’s gaze did not dodge his, this time. She drew in a breath and let it out, making the bodice of her satin gown and dozens of white roses stitched to it lift and fall. “I suppose I must have. I’m not entirely sure what I was thinking. I simply could not bring myself to take another step closer to the cathedral.”

  “At least you turned away before you got to the altar,” Adam observed. “Only the townsfolk saw you bolt, instead of the peerage of Europe assembled inside.”

  She grew still. Her expression became stricken.

  Adam sighed. “I am not helping…” he muttered.

  She swallowed. “No.”

  He scrubbed at his hair, irritated with himself. “What now, Ann? You’ve got your silence—as much silence as you seem to be able to withstand, at least.”

  “No one is shouting at me, here.” Her tone was one of agreement.

  “I have to ask… Do you intend to marry the man, still?”

  Ann put her face in her hands. “I don’t know.” Her voice was muffled. “It was all very clear, when he proposed. I would be helping the family…” She raised her head and her gaze speared him. “You made me see that—about why I thought marrying a man of rank would be a good thing. Only, I did not understand what…what it would require of me.”

  “You mean, after the wedding?”

  “Well, that, I understood.” Ann’s voice was dry and Adam nearly laughed. “I meant, rather, the next day and the day after that and all the days which follow. All the years. Filip insisted we live in Norway, of course, and everything would be so very different there and I’ve watched Aunt Bronwen…she likes to think of herself as a northern woman, but there is nothing of Yorkshire anywhere in her speech or thoughts. She is a Grand Duchess from top to toe. Being married to Tor changed her…” Ann looked at Adam. Her mouth quirked into a small grimace.

  Adam finished the thought she had not completed. “You hoped marrying him would save the family, but you did not see what you would be giving up, in return.”

  Ann sighed. “I need time to accustom myself to that.”

  “Then you do intend to marry him?”

  Ann brushed at her dress, focusing upon her hand and avoiding his gaze. “I think…I don’t know,” she finished in a rush. “I should marry him. My reasons for doing so have not changed. But I suppose I am a coward, to shrink from the cost it will ask of me.” Her hand snagged on one of the roses and she plucked at it. With a soft ripping sound, the rose tore away.

  “I hate white roses,” she murmured. Steadily, she tore each of them from the bodice and tossed them into the soil. Then she reached and tore the roses from the bustle. “Besides, he may not want me, now. I have embarrassed him.”

  Adam watched the movement of her hands, fascinated by what she was doing. “He’s not a true fiancé, if that would put him off marrying a woman like you.”

  Ann grew still. She stared at him, her eyes wide.

  Adam cleared his throat, picked up the knife and returned it to the toolbox.

  When he returned, Ann stood with her gaze upon the dim light deep within the trees. “You said you have boxes of dresses in a warehouse somewhere nearby?” Her tone was remote. Thought-filled.

  “Hamburg,” he said. “It is only a few hours south of here. When we learned of the wedding and the date, Father and I planned a tour of Belgium and the northern Prussian states, to find new stores and clients. That requires samples…” He made himself stop talking.

  Ann turned her head to spear him with her gaze. “A tour? For how long?”

  “As long as it needs to be.” He shrugged.

  Ann turned to properly face him. “Take me with you.”

  Adam let out his breath. “Ann, be sensible. I brought you here because you were upset. I’m glad I can be of help, but I cannot have you travel with me through Europe. Your reputation would not withstand it.”

  “I do not care about my reputation.”

  “Your Duke will. Very much so.”

  “He is an adventurer. He said so. He will understand.” She added in a soft mutter, “I hope.”

  “Could you not stay in a hotel in Silkeborg or somewhere in Denmark, while you decide what you will do?” Adam asked.

  Ann shook her head. “A hotel room will not give me the perspective I need.”

  “Perspective?” he repeated. “I do not know this word.”

  Ann raised her brow. “So your English does have limits.” She paused, then said, “It will let me see everything in a different way. A fresh way…one that will provide insight. Just as I acquired insight when I saw the cathedral.”

  Adam rubbed his jaw. Perspective. It was a good word. “I do not think you—”

  “Please, Adam,” she said softly. Worse, she began to weep again—but she did not wail or beat her chest. Her chin remained up, her gaze steady. “If you do not consider me a cousin, then think of me as a friend, and help me. Please.”

  Adam took in her state. The satin gown now denuded of embellishments and elaborations, her wet cheeks and her raised chin.

  Who would help her if he did not? Her family would deliver her right back to the Duke and harangue her for running away, too. It would not give her the silence, the perspective she sought.

  With a sigh, Adam said, “I can take you to the train station and see you safely aboard a train to Brussels. From there, you can return to England, or watch the sea to find your perspective.”

  “But—”

  He held up his hand. “Everyone saw you leave the cathedral with me, in this carriage. The most helpful thing I can do is move as far away from you as possible. Do you see?”

  Her tears were dripping again, but she nodded. “Yes,” she said, her voice low. “I see.”

  Adam whirled away so he could no longer see the disappointment in her eyes, and got on with turning the carriage about.

  Ann was not thinking rationally. Therefore he must. It was the right decision, he told himself firmly, as if a stout mental voice would compensate for the uneasiness in his gut.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “There is no need to escort me into the station,” Ann told Adam crisply, when he opened the door for her and held out his hand. “I will see myself aboard the train.”

  The crisp tone hid her bruised feelings. Adam’s refusal to help her beyond delivering her to the Brussels express had given her an odd little jolt. For a moment she had forgotten how little she really knew about him. His sensible decision reminded her that he was an estranged sort-of-cousin from Paris, one who did not like or understand the English side of his extended family.

  That side of the family included her, she reminded herself, as the carriage jolted its way to the Fredericia station, just south of Silkeborg.

  Adam lowered the hand he had offered. “Do you have any money to pay for a ticket?”

  Ann held her jaws together, annoyed she had not thought of this herself.

  Adam nodded. “Therefore, I will see you onto the train and pay for your ticket.”

  Ann reluctantly let him help her down to the pavement and brushed her gown into order. She had taken the roses from her hair, too, and put the gloves back on. Without the flowers and train, it was simply a satin gown, albeit a good quality one, and an unusual choice for a travelling ensemble.

  Adam glanced at her décolletage. He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a long wallet. “Here, hold this.”

  She took the wallet and turned it over. “Why?”

  He quickly removed his jacket and held it out. “Put this on.”

  “But it is your jacket!”

  “And I am returning to the pension where Father and the family are staying, where I have another jacket.” As he spoke, he deftly threaded her arms into the sleeves and pulled it up about her shoulders. “You cannot travel without a coat, not in a satin gown.” He stood back. “It is too large,” he decided, studying her.

  “Far too large,” she said in agreement. She pulled the fronts in over each other, so that the jacket cinched in around her waist, which was considerably smaller than his. The jacket was warm from his body and smelled indefinably male.

  She shivered.

  “Hold it closed the way you are now,” Adam said. “It brings the back up over the bustle and makes it look like one of those riding jackets the fashionable women wear.”

  “You know far too much about fashion, for a man,” Ann replied, glancing over her shoulder to see the jacket was settling over the fullness of her gown just as he described.

  “I spend my days talking to shopkeepers who know far too little and must be coaxed into buying garments they do not see the point of buying.” He tugged the jacket lapels once more, settling them, then plucked his wallet from her arms, which she held crossed over her middle, to keep the jacket secure. “Come along.” He turned toward the station and waited for her to follow.

  Fredericia Station was a very large one, with many train lines converging there. There were, consequently, a great many people moving about the many platforms, along with porters and trolleys loaded with trunks. Trains ready to depart chuffed steam. Whistles blew, announcing departures.

  Ann kept her gaze upon Adam’s back. He was an odd figure, in shirt sleeves and waistcoat, among soberly dressed Danish travelers, but she must look just as odd. She tried not to think about it too hard. When she reached Brussels, she would properly consider the contretemps she had caused, but not now. Her heart could not stand the ache a moment longer.

  Better to watch Adam’s shoulders as he walked.

  Then she saw a familiar face among the crowded platform and shrank back behind Adam completely, and grabbed his sleeve to halt him.

  He turned, puzzled.

  “That man over there, with the brown top hat…he is one of Dahl’s men.”

  Adam’s puzzlement deepened. “Who is Dahl?”

  “Filip’s secretary.”

  Adam’s expression cleared. He nodded and glanced over his shoulder. “Do you see anyone else you know?”

  Ann looked about carefully, using Adam’s body to shield most of herself as she scanned the faces of the men standing about the platform. Her heart beat heavily. “There are three men I know for certain I have seen before. There are two others who may be Dahl’s men, but I am not certain about them.”

 

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