He smiled and nodded mutely while handing the woman her valise. The footman reached out and helped Daphney from the carriage. Carver stayed where he was, holding a smile on his face. He didn’t need to look out of the carriage to know what she would find. Or rather, wouldn’t find. If his estimations were correct they were about a half-hour outside of London and exactly in the middle of nowhere.
Carver picked a piece of fuzz off of his jacket. She’ll be back in 3…2…
“Where the devil have you taken me, Carver?” There was that spark again. She sprang back up into the carriage with all the agility of a woman not with child. But the bump was centered again, so that was something.
“We are currently on our way to visit my family at Dalton Park.” He stiffened.
Dalton. Had he accidentally given himself away with the slip of the family title? As the first son of a duke, Carver held his father’s courtesy title, Earl of Kensworth, until he succeeded his father and would take over the dukedom. If Daphney knew anything about the peerage, she would know that the Earl of Newburry had already succeede
d his father and inherited the earldom. Did Daphney know that Dalton Park belonged to a duke?
He watched her face closely and was relieved to see that she didn’t seem to understand the significance. For once, Carver was thankful that titles among the peerage were vastly complicated and hard to keep track of.
“Where is Dalton Park?” Her voice rattled with restrained anger.
“In Kent. About a six-hour journey so we really ought to be getting back on the road.”
Her eyes widened. “Kent! Oh, for heaven’s sake, I am not going with you to Kent! I must insist that you turn back now and kindly set me down in London.” Gone was the meek little maid that had been sitting across from him earlier. Her gorgeous eyes flashed fire.
It was very difficult for him to keep his amusement from showing. “Afraid not. I’m already running late as it is. My family is expecting me in time for dinner and I don’t want to disappoint them.” That much was true.
Those eyes just blinked at him as if unable or unwilling to understand what he was telling her. “You will not take me back to London?”
“I will not.”
She moved to sit on the edge of the bench and looked around the carriage, at a loss for how to proceed. It was clear that whoever she was; she was unaccustomed to her demands not being heeded. She found her fire again and faced him with a sharp movement. “Did you not think it pertinent to tell me that we would be leaving town before I entered your carriage?”
He shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
“I didn’t think I needed to!” The woman was maddeningly beautiful when in a passion. “What kind of gentleman sweeps a female into his carriage, then carries her out of town without her consent?” she asked.
“Romantic isn’t it?”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s abduction.”
He couldn’t help but smile. It was abduction. “Either way, I believe you are stuck with me, darling.”
“Oh!” He thought he could see steam coming out of her ears. “Do not darling me one more time. It’s insufferable.”
“Only half an hour together and we already sound like a married couple of many years. I’d say that’s a good sign.” Her eyes were strangling him.
The footman re-appeared at the open door of the carriage. “Shall we continue, my lord?”
Carver looked to Daphney. “What will it be, my dear?” Knowing she hated the endearment made it all the more enticing to use. He could live with her feeling a little annoyed.
For a moment, she looked as if she might get out of the carriage. But then a crack of thunder sounded and was followed by large glorious drops of rain. She rolled her eyes, sat back in her seat, and folded her arms, looking very much like a pouty child. “Oh, for goodness' sake. Let’s go! I certainly cannot get out here now.”
He nodded to the footman who shut the door and in the next moment the carriage leapt into motion again.
Carver suddenly filled with the realization that he was bringing a woman home. To meet his family. Unfortunately, he had not considered the consequences of detaining her in his carriage for so long, but it was too late to turn back now. He would just have to play it off as if she were really his betrothed until she decided to confess. Of course, he could tell Miss Bellows that he knew she was scamming him right then and there. He could drop her at the nearest posting house and arrange to have her sent back to London and his family would never need to know a thing about it. But what fun would that be? His family could forgive him later.
Daphney eyed him with tight lips. “What is your middle name, Carver?”
He chuckled, knowing full well why she wished to know it. “Timothy.”
This time it was Daphney who leaned forward in her seat. She leveled him a glare with such icy undertones it threatened to freeze all of England. She spoke with a slow, ominous cadence. “Carver Timothy Newburry—,”
“Ashburn,” he corrected. “Ashburn is my surname. Newburry is just a title.” Not even his title.