When Marissa began her husband hunting she’d imagined finding herself marrying George, but it had all turned out differently. Anyway, she would have been miserable with George. In nearly all ways, Valentine was her perfect mate, and if she refused him then she would be miserable for the rest of her life. She must take that leap…or regret it forever.
It was time to say a long and lingering yes.
Reaching out her hand, she expected to touch his warm flesh, and to draw herself closer to him.
He wasn’t there.
Her first thought was he must have risen for some reason and would be back soon, but when the moments ticked by and nothing happened, she began to worry. She sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes and looking about her. The room was empty. Dark and cold and empty. Even his side of the bed felt chilled, as if he’d been gone for a long time.
“Valentine?” she called softly, knowing even as she did so that he wouldn’t answer. She would have felt his presence if he was close by, and she did not.
Tossing back the covers, she slid from the bed to the floor, shivering. The blind was slightly disarranged and she went to the window to look through the small, smeared panes.
The yard was empty.
Something was stirring in her, a whisper of fear, and she stilled to listen to it. Where could he be? Had George sent for him? Or had he gone to George to check how he was doing? It seemed unlikely, and surely he would have said something to her if the explanation was that simple. Instead he’d crept out of the bedchamber, silent as a ghost, not wanting her to wake and…
She frowned. Not wanting her to ask questions and perhaps argue with his choices?
Of course!
He’d gone to find Augustus Von Hautt and he didn’t want Marissa to come with him.
Feverishly she began to pull on her clothing, the hand-me-down dress over the top of her underwear and stockings. She would need her boots and a cloak or some thick outer garment to keep her warm. And a horse, too. She couldn’t follow Valentine without a horse.
He’d gone back to Beauchamp Place, she knew it, the knowledge solid and sure within her. He believed the baron had returned there after they left and he was going to capture him and…But what else he meant to do Marissa wasn’t sure. That was another reason she really needed to find him and make certain nothing desperate happened between the two of them, more especially to Valentine.
Very worried now, she went to find the chamber belonging to the innkeeper and tapped on the door. She had to knock louder and repeatedly before it was finally opened. The man looked grumpy and didn’t try to hide it behind any false politeness.
“I need a horse and a cloak and my boots,” she informed him in a firm voice, before he could begin to complain. “Lord Kent has set off alone into danger and he needs me.”
He wanted to argue. She could see it in his eyes and his impatient shuffling, but he must have seen something in her face that persuaded him he would be wasting his time. Eventually he shrugged and sent her to the parlor while he dealt with her requests.
Marissa paced back and forth in front of the dying fire, the moments stretching out while she imagined all sorts of horrid things happening to Valentine, but it really wasn’t very long before the innkeeper returned with her dried boots and an old musty cloak that swallowed her up, and told her he would be saddling a horse for her with his own hands.
After he’d gone his wife crept into the room, her plump face creased with worry.
“You’ll take care now, miss?” she said, eyes anxious beneath the frill on her nightcap. “A young lady like yourself shouldn’t be riding alone in the dark, you know.”
“I will be careful,” Marissa replied, lacing up her boots, “but I must go. I can’t sit here and wait and wonder what is happening.”
The woman nodded as if she understood. She glanced at the doorway, and then stepped closer and pressed something into Marissa’s hands. Her voice was a whisper. “I’ve had this since we was robbed five year ago. It is clean and working, so don’t fear it will explode in your face. If you need to use it, aim a little to the right of your target, as it don’t fire exactly straight.”
Marissa looked down. She was holding a silver pistol with a pearl handle, small enough to be concealed in her hand. When she looked up questioningly at the woman, she found her blushing.
“A gentleman give it to me,” she said, eyes flickering sideways. “My husband don’t know, so please don’t tell him, miss.”
Ah, a lover, perhaps? Someone who’d cared enough about her to ensure her safety? Marissa smiled and reached to touch her hand reassuringly. “Thank you,” she said. “You are very kind. I will only use it if I must, and it will remain a secret between the two of us.”
“Well,” the woman blushed, “I’m glad. T’ain’t every day we get to have a lord stay at the Fox and Hounds.”
“Aye, just as well,” her husband muttered behind her, making her jump guiltily. “Been run off our feet with all his orders we have.”
Marissa slipped the pistol into her pocket, out of sight. The pair of them accompanied her to the stable and watched her ride out into the yard, the horse’s hooves clattering loudly on the cobbles. She thanked them again and kicked the beast into a canter, and then a gallop, her borrowed cloak flapping about her.
She remembered the way but even so everything looked different at night. There were odd shadows and shapes, as if what was ordinary by day had suddenly become threatening and extraordinary.
“You’re being silly,” she told herself firmly, as the miles to her destination shortened. “Valentine needs you. Just keep remembering that. He needs you…”