Thoughtfully, Adam went out to the stable to see to the carriage and ask the boy to hitch the horse.

  There was a second stable hand there this morning. The hand was an older man, who pitched hay with lazy motions. The boy from last night hung nets of straw over the stable doors for the horses behind them and glanced at the older man between movements.

  Likely, the older man was making the boy do all the heavy work, while he moved a few straws around.

  Adam spoke to the man directly, instead of the boy. “Could you hitch my horse, please?” He would have to return the cab and the horse to its owner eventually, but he fully expected his father would smooth things over in Silkeborg for him, so the return could be delayed for a day or two.

  “Yes, sir,” the man replied. “You be wanting the carriage for the lady, then?” He moved down the stalls to where the mare stood slack-hipped, nipping at the fresh straw the boy had put there for her. Adam would toss—no, slip the boy another coin for his thoughtfulness, when the older man was not looking.

  “The bay,” Adam said sharply as the stable hand moved right past the mare. The man instantly changed directions and opened the door, pulling the straw away from the mare’s nose. She snorted her irritation.

  “It’s a fine day for travel, yes?” the stable hand added. “Are you heading far today?”

  “I’m not certain. It depends upon business.” Adam said no more. His German wasn’t strong enough for extended conversations, if they were not about garments and luxuries.

  The man looked about the stall for the tack. The boy carried the harness over from a shelf and hung it over the side of the stall. He glanced at Adam as he moved back to the other stalls.

  “What business would that be, then?” the stable hand said, as he shook out the leather straps, trying to untangle them.

  “Importing,” Adam said absently, his thoughts whirling.

  “Importing…” The man shook his head. “You’re not from around here, judging by your accent. French, I’d say. Paris, perhaps?”

  Adam considered him. “Cognac,” he lied. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just making conversation, good sir. Just conversation.”

  “And when did you intend to ask me for my name?”

  The man jerked, as if he had touched a hot poker. His eyes widened.

  Adam nodded. “You’re no stable hand. Who are you?”

  “He’s from the newspaper,” the boy said, his voice high and tight. He flinched as the man rounded on him. “He already guessed!”

  Adam strode over to the stall.

  The journalist shrank back. “It is my work to find out such things!” he protested.

  “By the use of deception?’” Adam snatched the straps from the man’s hands. “By dishonorably stealing about and pretending to be someone you are not? Have you no honor?”

  “Honor wouldn’t give me your name,” the man said sullenly. “The Aachener Anzeiger will pay twenty marks to the first man who gives them your name. I couldn’t believe it when I saw the woman, last night. Right here in Hamburg…” He trailed off, his wariness building as he watched Adam.

  Adam could feel the anger trying to burst from him. He snapped the straps, sorting them out with hard movements. “Go away,” he said, his voice low and hard. “Ask what happened to the Duke’s private secretary yesterday, then warn your colleagues to also stay away from me, and the lady. Do you understand?” The last emerged in a harsh growl.

  The man shrank back a step at a time. “You think that will keep them away? A threat? It tells them there is a story to be learned. You can’t hide away forever.”

  The boy came up to Adam and held out his hand. “I will hitch the mare, Herr Davies.” Then his mouth dropped open and he looked at the journalist, horror building in his face.

  “It’s all right,” Adam told him. “They would have learned who I am sooner or later. Go on.” He handed the boy the straps and turned to confront the journalist once more.

  The man had gone.

  Filip Sørensen scanned the newssheet instead of settling behind the desk and properly reading it. It was the most he could bring himself to do, this morning. He barely paused to appreciate the ironed and crease free broadsheet.

  His gaze kept returning to the picture just beneath the masthead.

  The woman he had fully intended to marry was emblazoned across Europe’s newspapers, while journalists made bad jests about foreign affairs and hinted at lascivious details not fit to print upon a newssheet—as if what they had implied was not crude enough to make the point for even the most dense idiot drooling over the story.

  Sørensen looked up as Harry Dahl came into the room. Dahl had a bruise on his jaw that made Sørensen think of ruined apricots. He would have cut such a spot from the fruit with a knife.

  Dahl said, “We have received word from a dozen different towns, Your Grace. She might be in any of them—Copenhagen, Flensburg, Hamburg, Bremen. We should concentrate on those closest to Silkeborg. She could not get far in that dress, not in the state it was in when I saw it. She would draw the eye.”

  “She really cut off the train?” Sørensen asked, not for the first time.

  “And was wearing his jacket, yes. A most deplorable state of deshabille, Your Grace.” Dahl’s nose wrinkled.

  “Send men to all of them,” Sorenson said, his throat tightening.

  “All of…?” Dahl paused delicately.

  “Every town. All of them. Any town that sends word she is there. Find her, Dahl. I want her back before noon, today.”

  Dahl hesitated.

  “Why are you waiting?” Sorenson demanded.

  “It is just that…well, Your Grace, the newspapers are offering to pay for any news about the pair. I heard twenty marks mentioned, just for Davies’ name. Anyone with news will give it to the newspapers, not our people.”

  “Double the amount,” Sørensen snapped. “No, triple it.” Sixty marks was a fortune in anyone’s language—certainly enough to change any man’s allegiance. “I want her found,” he added, his voice strained.

  “Your Grace.” Dahl bowed and hurried from the room.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The tap on the door was soft, the way the footmen and hotel staff announced themselves. Ann was startled to find it was Adam at the door, instead. She took a step back. “What is wrong? Your expression…”

  Adam’s brows drew together. “May I step in, just for a moment? I don’t want to speak about it in the corridor.” His jaw flexed.

  He was angry and hiding it.

  Ann stepped back, her alarm rising.

  Adam shut the door with a swift, controlled movement. He stood for a moment with his hand about the door knob, marshalling his thoughts. Then he gave her a strained, small smile. “It is time to make a decision, Ann. Belgium was my idea, for it put you close to England, had you decided to go home. Now, though, I’m not certain that is the best destination for you.”

  “What destination would be best?” she asked, her heart thudding. “What has happened?”

  He shook his head. “The best possible destination for you would be to return to Silkeborg.”

  Ann gripped her hands together. “I cannot return. Not yet. Not until I know for certain whether I intend to marry the man or not. When I do return, he will press for a wedding immediately…or he will reject me with as much public humiliation as he can heap upon me and the family. Either way, I need to be certain in my own mind what it is I want, before I return, for I will not be able to think for the unhappiness swirling about me when I do.”

  Adam drew in a deep, slow breath and let it out. “I suspect you are quite right in that regard,” he said, his voice emerging deep and low.

  “If I should not go to Brussels, then where should I go?”

  Adam rubbed the back of his neck. “You should go nowhere alone,” he said heavily. “Therefore, it seems I must come with you.” He dropped his hand. “A journalist posed as a stable hand. He learned my name, Ann. The papers will print my name in the next edition and then everyone will know who I am.”

  Ann pressed her fingers to her lips. “Oh, Adam, I am so sorry I pulled you into this. It was not my intention at all. You just happened to be standing there…”

  Adam’s gaze met hers. “You might have picked any of the cab drivers waiting with their carriages. There were hundreds of them. You came to me because you knew I would understand, and I did. Now, though, we must deal with the consequences without complaint or apology, for they are what they are.”

  Ann dropped her hand. “What an extraordinary notion…” She pressed her hands together once more and felt her knuckles creak with the pressure. “It does feel, well, less fraught, to simply accept the facts and deal with them as they are.”

  “As nothing will change them,” Adam added.

  Calm touched her middle. Not peace—she would not have peace until she was clear in her mind about the future and had dealt with Filip. But for now, a calmness spread through her which allowed her thoughts to compose themselves and sense to return. “Very well,” she said softly. “I cannot return to Silkeborg just yet. I should not go to Belgium, you say. What other choices are there?”

  Adam nodded. “As to that…you must trust me for a while. Will you do that?”

  “Yes, of course I trust you.”

  He pointed to the new valise sitting upon the dressing table stool. “Pack your things. I must speak to the hotel manager.”

  “The manager? Why?”

  “I want to sell the coach and horse to him.”

  “Sell?”

  Adam paused with the door half-open. “Trust me,” he repeated.

  The door was closed. Softly, this time.

  When Adam moved over to one of the hacks waiting by the curb in front of the hotel, Ann’s puzzlement increased. She climbed into the cab, a dozen questions tumbling through her mind. Adam murmured to the driver and settled on the bench beside her. The valise sat on the floor between them.

  “I do not see the point of selling the coach and horse to the hotel, if we turn about and rent another one,” Ann said.

  The carriage rolled into the early morning traffic and got underway with a gentle swaying rhythm.

  Adam glanced up at the roof. The driver sat behind the cab and only thin leather separated them. “Not now,” he murmured.

  Ann held her teeth together even though she would have preferred to have all her questions answered this very instant. She watched the streets of Hamburg roll by, instead, and reminded herself of the extraordinary observation Adam had made about accepting the circumstances for what they were.

  A little of the calmness returned, enough to allow her to sit quietly until they reached the railway station. “A train?” she said quietly. “Which one?”

  “Wait,” Adam said, as she reached for the valise. He was staring at the station intently.

  “Wait for what?”

  “Silence…just for a while,” he breathed.

  It was then she realized that he was listening, not watching. Tension gripped him, keeping him like a rock upon the edge of the seat.

  The driver leaned down to call softly in German.

  Adam replied back, his voice just as soft, but with a sharp note in it. Then he leaned out of the cab and handed up several coins to the driver. He glanced at Ann as he settled back upon the edge of the seat. “Be prepared to move swiftly,” he told her. “Pick up the valise.”

  She put the square case upon her knees and gripped the handle. Her heart began to hammer once more, even though she did not understand what Adam was listening for.

  As it was early morning, there were many train travelers moving into the station itself through the big angular arch beneath the green roof. She could hear the distant sounds of trains chuffing steam, and the heavy hiss of a boiler being released to reduce pressure. Carriage doors slamming shut. The station master’s whistle announcing the departure of—

  “Now. Quickly!” Adam said, launching himself from the carriage. He gripped her free hand and pulled her from the carriage and broke into a run. Ann kept up as well as she could and was grateful for the short hem of the travelling suit, which didn’t trip her up.

  They ran through the archway, while startled travelers stepped aside and peered after them.

  Adam looked around swiftly as they emerged onto the platform, then turned and strode at such speed that Ann was forced to run to keep up with him. A train was billowing steam, just ahead. Doors were slammed shut by the porters and station hands.

  Adam caught the edge of one door as the porter swung it closed. He said something in German and the porter stepped back out of the way with a tug of his cap brim.

  Adam thrust the door fully open once more and helped her onto the train. Breathing hard, Ann moved into the center corridor to make room for Adam. He stepped in and shut the door. The porter tested the lock from the outside and tugged his brim once more.

  The train gave the great initial bellow of effort, then another, and the wheels clanked. It began to move.

  “This way,” Adam murmured and moved down the corridor. He peered into each compartment as they reached it until he found an empty one and opened the door with a satisfied sound. He took the valise from her and slid it onto the shelf above the plush purple velvet bench. “Relax,” he told her. He glanced through the window as the station fell behind them. “I must find the conductor and pay for our passage.” The corner of his mouth lifted. “I should also learn where we are headed.”

  “You don’t know?”

  “I will in a moment or two.” He stepped out of the compartment and shut the door.

  Ann sank onto the cushions, winded in both breath and thought. Only now could she put together what Adam had done. He had waited in the cab until he heard the whistle announcing the imminent departure of a train, then raced to catch that train at the very last moment.

  Had there been any of Filip’s men lingering upon the platform? It did not matter if there had been. They would have been caught flat-footed and left upon the platform. They could make enquiries about where the train was heading, but whatever the destination, they could not reach it before Ann and Adam would, for nothing could outpace a train.

  Adam came back and sat upon the opposite bench. “Morning tea will arrive in a few moments.”

  “And where are we going?” Ann asked, trying to sound disinterested.

  “The train is heading for Dresden.”

  “Will Filip’s men be waiting for us there? Those who might have seen us board the train in Hamburg could send a telegram in warning.”

  “Even your Duke does not have that many men at his disposal,” Adam said flatly. “If he manages to round up enough lackeys, it still would not matter. I said the train was heading for Dresden. I did not say that we would be on it when it arrives there.”

  She sat up. “We are alighting, somewhere along the way.”

  “Leipzig,” he said. “A very, very brief and completely unscheduled stop which will last long enough for us to step off the train.”

  “You made an arrangement with the conductor.”

  “Which is why I sold the coach and horse,” Adam replied. “Such arrangements can be costly.”

  “You bribed him?”

  “It was a perfectly straightforward business arrangement,” Adam’s voice held a note which said he was trying to sound affronted, but the curl at the corner of his mouth ruined the effect.

  Ann sat back. “I would not have thought of such an arrangement. I wouldn’t have thought of any of this,” she said ruefully. “I understand now why you insist I cannot travel alone. I would have been discovered hours ago and pulled back to Silkeborg.” She met his gaze. “I am not accustomed to…to such deviousness.”

  “It is not a custom of mine, either,” Adam said. “That is not why I said I must come with you. The conductor would pay you no attention even if you had thought of such an arrangement. It is only because I could speak to him man-to-man that we could reach an agreement. That is why I am traveling with you.”

  Ann let out her breath with a slow sigh. “I am starting to fully understand Aunt Emma’s and Great Aunt Annalies’ obsession with equal rights for women,” she added sourly. “I have managed to move through most of my life without experiencing such limitations. Why are they now rearing their heads?”

  “Because now you are moving outside of the normal channels a woman is usually confined to.” Adam shrugged, a small movement. “The more unconventional your behavior, the greater the approbation and the stronger the restrictions which will hinder you.”

  “And I am behaving with utter unconventionality, now,” Ann concluded unhappily.

  “Would you rather be living through your first days as a Duke’s wife?” Adam asked, his tone sharp.

  Ann considered. “No. At least, not yet.”

  “Then you must deal with the consequences.”

  “Yes.” She grimaced. “Oh well…”

  A tap sounded on the compartment door.

  “Yes, exactly. Oh, well,” Adam said softly as he got to his feet to open the door and let in the waiter and his narrow trolley laid with a steaming teapot and silver cake stand.

  The hot scent of strong black tea was delicious.

  “Voila,” the waiter said softly, his German accent distorting the word.

  “Vielen dank,” Adam replied and closed the door after him.

  Ann bent over the tray. “Why…these are scones! And blackberry jam…oh, how wonderful!”

  The very English refreshments restored Ann’s flagging spirits. So did the simple, straightforward attitude Adam used to deal with frustrations and problems. “You have a unique way of looking at the world,” she told him, between bites and sips.

  Adam gripped the porcelain teacup with one big hand around the bowl, instead of using the tiny handle. “Oh?”

 

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