“Can’t you?” Jane said, sounding absurdly brave.

Miranda sighed. She should have known she’d drag others down with her. She simply had to make sure Jane was left in good hands before they continued onward. “I love you, too. And Lucien will take care of things when we stop. In the meantime we may as well make the best of it. I expect I won’t be visiting London for quite a while, so we need to enjoy our time together.”

“But, Miranda, my wedding is only three months away! You were to be my maid of honor—now I suppose my matron of honor. We’ll have lots of time then, won’t we?” She was looking worried again.

“Assuming you don’t run off with your brigand in the meantime,” Miranda said in a light, teasing voice.

Jane frowned. “I’m no longer finding the memory quite so delightful. It really was quite shocking of me to enjoy it so, wasn’t it?”

“Quite shocking. And perfectly understandable. Don’t worry, love. Mr. Bothwell never need find out anything about it. You’ll be counting yourself lucky to have made such a close escape.”

Jane’s small, cold hand slipped into Miranda’s. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing, Miranda?”

“Quite,” she said firmly, squeezing her hand reassuringly. Perhaps practice made perfect in the art of lying.

At least the earl made certain his hostages traveled in style. The coach was magnificent—well sprung, with warm bricks, several magnificent throws, pillows, a basket of food and wine. Poor Jane was feeling more and more miserable, and Miranda would have soon eaten snakes than touched anything provided by her host, so they simply curled up together under the shared blankets and talked, not about the present or the future, but about the past and the happiness of shared childhoods and doting parents. Jane drifted off to sleep first, and slowly, slowly Miranda forced herself to release her fury enough to get some rest herself.

She awoke with a start, a bright light momentarily blinding her, and she realized the coach had come to a stop and someone was standing in the open door of the carriage.

“What have we here?” Lucien’s voice was silken. “Did we pick up an uninvited passenger along the way?”

Miranda could feel the fear that swept through her friend, and she put a protective arm around her. “Lord Rochdale, I believe you are acquainted with my dear friend Jane, are you not?”

“Indeed,” he said gravely, though she could sense the damnable amusement in his voice. “Though I scarcely expected to renew my acquaintance under these circumstances. I’ve bespoken a room and a meal while we change horses—why don’t we continue this conversation by the fire?” He held out a hand to her, and there was a mocking light in his eyes.

To continue any hope of keeping Jane ignorant of the true basis of this marriage, she had no choice but to accept his hand, letting him lift her down onto the ground, bypassing the steps entirely. For a moment she swayed, automatically reaching for Lucien, and then she drew her hand back swiftly, using the carriage for momentary support rather than willingly touch him again.

Unfortunately he was already seeing to Jane, and couldn’t appreciate her cold reaction. And then she stopped thinking about him entirely when she saw the pinched, miserable expression on Jane’s piquant face, and her anger toward the man flared up once more.

He didn’t relinquish Jane’s arm, and in truth it didn’t look as if she would have made the trip across the cobbled stable yard without his support. He didn’t look back at Miranda, leaving her to follow in their wake, and at least then some of her anger dissipated. Jane must be taken care of first. Once she was dealt with there would be time enough to figure a way out of this mess.

Because there had to be a way out. If he thought she would simply acquiesce then he had very little notion of who she really was. The first thing she had to do was forestall the wedding. A stomach complaint would do to begin with, and then anything else she could come up with. As long as Jane was safe.

The inn was small but neat, and she followed the two of them into the private dining room, glancing about her curiously as Lucien settled Jane into a chair by the fire. He glanced back at Miranda. “I imagine you both will wish to refresh yourself before we eat, but I’m afraid my curiosity will not withstand another minute. Why are you here, Miss Pagett?”

“She didn’t realize we were eloping,” Miranda spoke up. “She was concerned about my reputation and thought to accompany me.”

He had an ironic expression on his face. “Alas, I’m afraid I prefer my honeymoons à deux.”

“I’m certain you do. For some untoward reason the driver ignored my attempts to gain his attention. We will simply have to turn around and go back to London at once.”

“Will we?” Why had she ever thought his smile to be charming? It didn’t meet his cool, pale eyes.

“Jane,” Miranda said in a firm voice. “Why don’t you go upstairs and lie down for a bit while I have a conversation with my … affianced husband?”

“Oh, dear,” Lucien said with a note of laughter in his voice. “Are we about to have our first quarrel, love? By all means, Miss Pagett, go and make yourself comfortable while Miranda and I come to blows.”

Jane didn’t move, bravely stubborn for the first time in her life. “I don’t think …”

“Go ahead, Jane,” Miranda said firmly. “Leave this to me.”

He waited until Jane had left the room, then sank down gracefully on the recently abandoned chair. Miranda stood by the fire, rigid with fury and fear, but he simply nested his fingers and prepared to give her his full attention. “You can’t do this,” she said.

“Don’t be tiresome. I can do anything I please. Indeed, it’s a shame your friends are equally as headstrong as you are, but that is scarcely my concern.”

“She’s not headstrong at all, she’s very timid and right now she’s terrified. You need to send her back home. It’s one thing to run off with me. My reputation is already in shreds, and you have some misguided reason for taking out your anger on me. So be it. Jane is an innocent, and her family will hardly let you get away with this.”

“I hesitate to correct you, but you are wrong on several counts. One, I have no anger toward you. You’re simply a means to an end, and a quite delicious one. As for Miss Pagett, I will have a doctor see her before we continue on our journey, to set your mind at ease, and then I will have her write a letter to her family telling them she chose to accompany you on your bride trip.”

“My family won’t believe it.”

“I don’t expect them to. But they’re unlikely to frighten Miss Pagett’s family. Now why don’t you come over here and sit?”

“I’m not coming anywhere near you.”

He shouldn’t have been able to move that swiftly. She didn’t even see his cane anywhere near him. At one moment she was stiff and defiant, in the next he’d crossed the room, scooped her up and carried her back to the chair, sinking down with her imprisoned in his arms.

Without thinking she fought back, and he tightened his grip, painfully, so that her struggles abated and she held very still. “That’s better…. Once you cease fighting I think you’ll realize we’ll do quite well together.”

“Once I cease fighting you’ll lose interest in me.”

He laughed. “That is always a possibility. In which case, why keep fighting me? Or do you want me to lust after you?”

In a day full of shocks he’d somehow managed to shock her further. The thought that he might actually desire her was so bizarre that it had never occurred to her. She jerked her head to look at him, startled, and he laughed at her astonishment. “Why in the world does that surprise you, my pet? I would hardly decide to marry you if I didn’t want you. There are any number of ways this particular game could play out. I happen to prefer it in my bed.”

She managed to recover from her shock. “God knows why,” she said. “I’m no great beauty, I’m no longer innocent and I have it on the word of an accomplished rake that my skills in the bedchamber are lacking.”

“Now you’re fishing for compliments.” His grip had loosened, marginally, and she wondered if she could take him off guard, as she had Christopher St. John, so long ago. But then, she could hardly run. For one thing, Jane was upstairs, and she couldn’t leave her behind. For another, she had not the faintest idea where they were, how far from London they’d traveled. Until she discovered that much any escape plan would be a waste of time. “I’m not particularly concerned about your skill in bed,” he continued. “I have more than enough for both of us. To make up for my appearance I’m quite adept at performance, and you’ll get the way of it before long.”

“Now who is fishing for compliments?” she shot back.

She’d managed to surprise him. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re a very pretty child, if not perhaps a flamboyant beauty, whereas I’m an ugly brute with a soul to match.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she mocked him. “Your soul may be the epitome of putrescent decay, but apart from minor scarring you know perfectly well that you are quite decadently appealing.”

His pale eyes widened, and then he exploded in laughter. “I don’t know which enchants me more, putrescent decay or decadently appealing. You can’t decide whether to insult me or flatter me into releasing you. In honor of your fighting spirit I’ll make a wager, my pet. I’ll offer you a chance of escape.”

He meant it. She held her breath. “Anything you choose.”

“It’s quite simple. We have yet to seal this devil’s bargain with a kiss. If you can let me kiss you and not respond in any way then I’ll send you home with your friend, leave your brothers in peace and do my best to ruin your family financially. That will require more effort, but I’m more than capable of succeeding. What do you say to that?”