“Fine,” he allowed, though he was loathe to. “Please don’t go out of my sight until you are my wife.”
She smiled weakly up at him. “That I will do.”
And before he could say another word, the maid slipped in with a tray covered in all of the things that he desired.
He turned his gaze to her. “Make sure that the hackney downstairs is paid for. And a physician sent for.”
The maid nodded her dark brown head and gave a quick curtsy. She left as quickly as she’d entered, her eyes wide, shocked at the state of affairs, which was something.
People in his club were usually accustomed to a great many things, but apparently an earl’s daughter stumbling in at dawn half clothed was a bit much even for his staff.
He gazed down into her eyes. “Elizabeth, there’s really only one thing to be done.”
“And that is?” she queried.
“We must make for Scotland immediately. Will you come with me? We cannot risk trying to get a special license here in London,” he explained. “Your father’s powerful enough that he might be able to speak to certain members of parliament and have me stopped. The Duke of Blackwood’s reach is far, but even he cannot stop all of the powerful men of London, and your father certainly has allies.”
“Let us go immediately,” she agreed without pause. “I will not hesitate. I will follow you wherever we need to go.”
He gave a nod as relief mitigated some of his fear. “There are a few things that need to be done first and then we should leave within the hour. I do not wish to look back and think that I should have done something differently.”
“We cannot know the future, Tom,” she breathed, her eyes darker with wisdom.
He nodded, trying not to hate himself for putting her at such risk. “That’s certainly true. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have had that experience this morning.”
“Tom, I made my choices and I am still grateful that I have done so.” She stared up at him, unrelenting. “I now truly know what kind of man he is and how far he’s willing to go.”
“And I,” he said softly. “And I, Elizabeth.”
Tom stroked a lock of hair back from her cheek then carried her to the bed. He laid her down and tucked the warm counterpane carefully around her as she began to shake.
She was in shock.
He crossed over to the tray, poured her a glass of blood red wine, and then carried it to her.
“Drink this,” he instructed. “It will calm you for a moment and as soon as you have it down, we shall switch to a fortifying cup of beef tea. That will help a great deal.”
She nodded, taking the glass from him with shaking hands.
As she sipped, he crossed over to the fireplace.
He did not wait for a footman to come but immediately began to lay out the wood himself. He abhorred coal. He had since he was a child. The dust coated everything, making cleanliness impossible. It also made one cough uncontrollably and he had nightmares about picking up fallen pieces from coal wagons, desperate to be warm.
And so, he made the fire easily with kindling and hard wood. It took but a few moments and patience before the small bit of wood sparked and he could add to it.
Then as soon as a good blaze was going, he stared into the flames, formulating his new plan.
There would be no waiting, they would depart as soon as they were able.
He’d have a coach and horses readied, and he’d send a rider ahead to each coaching inn so that they could make record pace to Gretna Green.
Nothing was going to hurt her, not ever again, of that he was certain. Especially not while she was in his keeping.
He’d already made a mistake, and he would not be so foolish as to make another.
He’d never risk losing her again.
Chapter 15