"Don't call me that. And I hardly believe you have any concern for my welfare."
"I am not leaving you here and that is final. For one thing, you cannot travel all the way back to Hampshire unescorted. Not that I trust you to go home. By the same token, I cannot let you travel on to Gretna Green alone, either."
"I told you. I've changed my mind. I'm not going on to Gretna Green."
"Yes you are." So saying, he caught her wrist in one hand and pulled her to her feet.
"Stop that! Who do you think you are?" she sputtered. "No-"
But Lord Hartley was stronger than she and bent on ignoring her. He snatched up her portmanteau and, deaf to her complaints, hauled her out of the room, down the narrow stairs, and out to the waiting horses. He rudely put her on Daffodil and then mounted his own steed. The farm wife thrust a bundle of bread and cheese into her hands, then they were off, with the farmer, his wife, and their three workers waving them down the road.
Jinx plotted revenge the whole day long. Over every hill, through every valley. Beneath clouds and sun and the occasional drizzle, she plotted revenge against the despotic Lord Hartley. They rode swiftly, he goading her horse before him when she did not ride fast enough. But to his every remark, she turned a cold shoulder.
"How did you get the name Jinx?" he'd asked at one point.
When she did not reply he answered for her. "Oh, I was a troublesome child, almost as troublesome as I am now."
She stared straight ahead, vowing to remain angry with him. Unfortunately, the ridiculous falsetto voice he'd adopted made it hard.
"You, troublesome?" he said in his own voice. "Oh, yes," he replied, mimicking her once more. "Women who are hardheaded and unreasonable generally behaved the same way during their childhood-"
"I am not unreasonable," Jinx stated in a haughty tone.
"So you admit that you're hardheaded."
"You are hardheaded. I am merely determined."
He had dropped back so that they now rode side by side. "Most people would agree that a young woman sallying forth alone to find her brother is more than merely determined."
She shot him a glare, her anger restored by his patronizing tone. "I was not brought up to be a slave to what 'most people' think. I do what I believe is right."
"As do I."
Frustrated, she urged Daffodil on. She would not ride beside him, conversing as if they were on an afternoon's pleasure ride. She would not exchange banter, nor even insults with him, for it did no good.
But it did not sit well for her to be silent in the face of frustration. She was more wont to lash out with her quick tongue than suffer in silence. Unfortunately, her reactions to Harrison Stirling were simply too irrational. She tried to stay angry, but he charmed her. She tried to shock him and he kissed her. She still had not recovered from that!
Oh, but he was the most arrogant, high-handed, egotistical… She couldn't find words remotely adequate to express her fury. He was the most egotistical man she'd ever had the misfortune to know. So she rode and she fumed and she bided her time. She would have her revenge, one way or another, she vowed. One way or another.
Late afternoon the rain resumed. They were well into the north country now, a pretty land of mountains and lakes, but few villages. They'd made good time, for the road was well maintained. But as they descended into a shallow valley, her captor, as she'd begun to think of him, turned off the road into a private park. Jinx had been riding rather dispiritedly just a little behind him. Now she straightened and peered out from beneath the drooping brim of her bedraggled bonnet.
"Where are you taking me now? Not calling on some friend or another, I hope." The last thing she wanted was for anyone to hear of this incident. Bad enough that everyone thought the Benchleys odd. If it got out she'd spent all this time alone with Lord Hartley, her reputation would be in a complete shambles.
Though her friend Virginia and the housekeeper, Mrs. Honeywell, feared Jinx meant never to marry, that was not so. It was only that-it was difficult to find the right man. But ruining her reputation with Lord Hartley would make it utterly impossible to find a husband.
That thought caused her to straighten even further.
Harrison Stirling was obsessed with his sister's reputation yet he did not mind playing fast and easy with hers. Perhaps it was time that she present a threat to his reputation.
"Where are we going?" she repeated. "This is not the way to Gretna Green. Why have we turned off the main road?"
He shot her a damp, disgruntled look. "So you're speaking to me again."
She tilted her chin to a lofty angle. "I have my reputation to protect. The last thing I want is to be caught in a compromising position with you. I should think you would feel the same."
A muscle began to twitch in his jaw. "The last thing, you say? It didn't feel like the last thing on your mind yesterday."
She fought the rise of color in her cheeks. "If you were a true gentleman, you would not bring that up!"
"If you were a lady, you would not be traipsing across the countryside alone!"
"But I'm not alone, am I? I'm stuck with a vengeful brute who's bent on murdering my brother-my only brother-and bent on ruining me as well!" She wheeled Daffodil around so abruptly the little mare nearly sat down on her haunches. Then she was off, flying down the gravel drive, back toward the main road.
He caught her, of course. His steed was bigger and faster-and probably would not dare to disappoint his demanding rider. He caught her and hauled her right out of the saddle as if she were a sack of some useful victual or another-potatoes or radishes or leeks. Her struggles ceased at once, for she did not want to fall beneath his mount's heavy hooves. But though she clung to the arm wrapped so unrelentingly around her, her verbal protests did not abate.
"You wretched, wretched man!" she shrieked. "What do you think you're doing? Stop this very minute, you barbarian. You brute! Let me down." She batted futilely at him. "Stop and let me down!"
"Not until we reach the house," he muttered. He shifted her higher, so that she now sat across his lap.
"I'll not go riding up there carried in your arms like this for the entire world to see," she swore. "I won't. Do you want to start talk about us? Is that your aim?"
"This is my house. No one will talk."
His house? That put a rather different slant on things. Still, Jinx felt a jolt of alarm. Why was he bringing her to his house?
"To obtain a chaperone," he answered when she questioned him. "For both you and my sister."
"Oh." Though she hated to give him credit for anything, the idea of a chaperone was a very good one. So Jinx sat in silence, with no further struggles as they made their way up the drive. Lord Hartley's horse nickered and Daffodil responded, then turned and ambled along behind them. The park was pretty, with ancient hornbeam and mature oaks and an allée of lime trees. Then they made a turn past a small lake and she saw the house, a handsome three-story country house with chimneys and eyebrow windows aplenty, but no turrets or fanciful downspouts. Still, it was a singularly lovely place and beautifully sited.
They were met in the forecourt by two grooms, while a third ran to alert the housekeeper.
"Miss Benchley is hurt," Harrison blithely fibbed when the two men stared in astonishment at Jinx riding before him. He slid off his, horse, still holding her as if she were an invalid. "A twisted ankle from a fall," he said, embellishing his tale. "Ask Mrs. Downy to prepare the room off the terrace for her. And you," he muttered in Jinx's ear. "You'd best be still if you value your reputation so highly as you profess."
What a fuss! Unfortunately, he made a good point. So Jinx ordered herself to relax in his arms. It was all for the best, and he was trying to protect her reputation. Besides, their delay here would afford Colin and Alice more time to achieve their aim.