LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Six

      The sound of booted feet on the floorboards brought Eva awake with a start of alarm. Sunlight was flooding through the window, morning had broken and she was still abed while pursuit could be at the door. She sat bolt upright. ‘What time is it?’ How could she have slept so soundly? ‘How are your bruises?’

      ‘Six, that is all. But time you got up, all the same. And my bruises are much better, thank you.’ Jack straightened from fastening a valise and smiled at her, a casual smile that held none of last night’s unspoken complications. He was fully dressed, clean shaven and alert. It felt very odd to have a man in her bedchamber while she was still in bed. ‘There is warm water on the washstand. I’ll wait downstairs unless you need any help with…er…’ he waved one hand in an effort to find an acceptable word ‘…buttons or anything.’

      ‘Thank you, no,’ Eva replied, suppressing the information that she had carefully selected garments that did not require assistance with laces, buttons or any other fastening. Yesterday she would have probably blurted that out; today she was resolved to retain the utmost dignity compatible with sharing a room with a man to whom she was not married.

      ‘Very well, I will order breakfast for twenty minutes’ time.’ He paused, one hand on the key. ‘Lock the door behind me.’

      She made it downstairs with five minutes to spare and was rewarded by a raised eyebrow as Jack stood and held a chair for her in the deserted parlour. ‘I have a busy schedule that requires frequent changes of clothing,’ she explained, answering the unspoken comment on her punctuality and accepting a proffered napkin with a nod of thanks. ‘Where is Henry eating?’

      ‘In the kitchen, I imagine.’ Jack helped himself to a hearty slice of ham, two eggs and a length of sausage.

      ‘I would prefer that he join us.’ She poured coffee into the large cups and added a generous amount of milk, still frothy from the milking pail.

      Jack accepted a cup, frowning. ‘Why? He can hardly chaperon us in the bedchamber, so his presence at breakfast seems a touch superfluous.’

      ‘Even so. I wish to retain the appearance of respectability so far as I am able.’ How direct he was! She had hoped to raise the matter without mentioning chaperons or bedchambers, but, no, Jack made no concession to conventions, or to the mild hypocrisies that oiled the wheels of real life. Eva tried not to either blush, or look like a prude, and suspected she had ended up merely looking starched-up. Not such a bad thing.

      ‘As you wish.’ Jack got up, put his head round the door to catch a passing potboy with the message and resumed his seat. ‘I am not sure Henry would add to any lady’s credit, but I cannot provide you with a lady’s maid.’

      ‘No, I agree. It would not be fair to her, and she could slow us down in an emergency.’ Eva buttered bread sedately, resisting the fragrant dish of ham and eggs until she had taken the sharpest edge off her appetite. Dinner last night had been unusually early and she had had nothing since, but she was not going to bolt her food. Years of eating in her room so she could be seen dining in public with the appetite of an elegant bird had left her awkward about tucking into a meal in company.

      ‘Quite. A very practical assessment.’ Jack was regarding her with a quizzical air. Eva stared haughtily back and carried on nibbling her bread and butter. ‘Is anything wrong?’

      He was always catching her off-balance, she thought resentfully. Half the time he was coolly expressionless, practical and seemed to expect her to just get on with things as he did himself. Then there would be a flash of sympathy, of understanding or concern, and his grey eyes came alive with a warmth that made her want to reach out and take his hand again.

      ‘Whatever could there be wrong?’ she said lightly, feeling her smile tighten. She added, with an edge of sarcasm, ‘This is all quite in the normal run of my experience, after all.’

      ‘Treating me like a awkward ambassador is not going to—Henry, good morning. Madame would like you to join us.’

      ‘Strewth.’ The groom stood turning his hat round in his hands. ‘You sure about that, ma’am? I mean, I’ve been seeing to the horses this morning and all.’

      ‘Entirely sure. Please sit in that chair there, Henry. Now, would you care for some coffee?’

      Eva poured, served herself ham and eggs, made careful conversation with both men in a manner that effectively forbade the introduction of any personal matter whatsoever and finally rose from the table, satisfied that she had set the tone for the rest of the journey. ‘Where are we travelling to today?’ she asked over her shoulder as Jack pulled out her chair for her at the end of the meal.

      He shook his head slightly and she caught her breath. She had been beginning to feel safe, lulled by the routine domesticity of breakfast. Of course, walls had ears, people could be bribed to pass on tittle-tattle about earlier guests. The cold knot in her stomach twisted itself together again, not helped by the squeeze he gave her elbow as she preceded him out of the room. She was not used to being touched. It was meant to be reassuring, she was sure, but it succeeded all too well in reminding her just how much she needed him.

      Jack waited until the carriage had rattled out of the inn yard and Henry had turned west before speaking. ‘Grenoble, Lyon, Dijon, then north to the border with the Kingdom of the Netherlands by whatever seems the safest route at the time,’ he said without preamble as she folded her cloak on the seat.

      ‘Through so many big towns? Is that wise?’ The watchful grey eyes opposite narrowed and Eva caught a glimpse of displeasure. He does not like my questioning his judgement, she thought. Too bad, I want to understand. I need to.

      ‘In my judgement it is,’ Jack responded evenly. ‘We need the speed of the good roads and travellers are less obvious in cities. However, if we run into trouble, then I have an alternative plan.’ She nodded, both in comprehension and agreement. ‘I am glad you approve.’

      ‘It is not a question of approval,’ Eva snapped, then caught at the fraying edge of her temper. Grace under pressure, that was what Louis had always insisted was the mark of rulers. Grace under pressure at all times. ‘I wish to understand,’ she added more temperately. ‘I am not a parcel you have been charged with delivering to the post office. Nor does my position make me some sort of mindless figurehead as you seem to think. If I understand what we are doing, why we are going where we do, then I am less likely to make any mistakes to earn your further displeasure.’

      ‘It is not my place to express displeasure at any action of yours.’ Jack’s retort was even enough to tip her emotions over into anger again. He was humouring her, that was what he was doing. He wanted it both ways—he wanted to call her by her first name, carry on this pretence of marriage and sharing a room, yet the moment she tried to take an active part in their flight he fell back on becoming the respectful courtier.

      ‘No, it is not your place, Mr Ryder, but I thought we had agreed that for the duration of this adventure I was not a grand duchess, that you would call me by my given name. I had assumed that meant you would also stop treating me as if I was not a real person. I hate it when I visit a village and they have painted the shutters especially. How do I know what lies behind them? Are they prosperous or are they poor? How much money was wasted on that paint? I want the truth, Mr Ryder, not platitudes, not your equivalent of painted shutters.’

      Her angry words hung in the air between them. She saw the bunching of the muscles under the tight cloth of his breeches and wondered if he was about to jump up, pull the check cord and transfer to the box, leaving her in solitude to fume.

      Then Jack leaned back into the corner of the seat and smiled. It was not a sign of humour, it was the kind of smile she produced when she was deeply displeased, but it

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