“I do.” God, no. Damn foolishly nearsighted of him to underestimate her tenacity. Slipping, indeed. “Tell me quickly, in which coach did the lady depart and where is the constable now?”

The constable was in conference with the local law, consulting on the tricky matter of retrieving a horse stolen thirty miles away by a gentleman of means. Especially grateful on this occasion that Galahad’s indisputable quality gave him the appearance of being such a gentleman, and thus recommending caution to the law, Wyn dressed swiftly.

In the stable he pressed a guinea into the groom’s palm.

The man’s eyes went round. “No, sir! I didn’t do it on account o—”

“Take it,” he said sharply. “Buy something for your girl who cares for everyone else more than herself.”

He set a quick pace, considerably quicker than the Shrewsbury Coach would on the quagmired road.

The dog appeared first. Limping along the center of the road toward them, it waved its tail in uncertain greeting. Then it barked once, a high yap of pleasure. On three or so legs it leaped around, its black eyes the only discernable color in its matted coat, then turned about and raced back the way it had come.

Wyn urged his mount forward.

Veiled in misty rain, Miss Lucas stood at the side of the road beside a traveling trunk topped with a lady’s bandbox.

“Do not expect me to be thrilled that you of all people have happened along,” she said before he even pulled to a halt, the dog cavorting between them with little growls of pleasure.

“Good day, Miss Lucas. I hope I find you well.”

“Of course you don’t find me well.” Her brow was tight. “But I can only expect you are happy about that.”

“On the contrary, madam. I am far from happy.”

He did not look happy. Despite his measured tone he looked remarkably displeased and a little dangerous atop his ebony horse and wearing all black, with a shadow of whiskers upon his jaw and his cravat tied rather hastily it seemed. Diantha had never seen him out of perfect order, which could only mean that upon discovering her missing from the inn, he had hurried after her. Which, despite the resolve she’d made to herself the moment she saw him round the bend, made her belly feel tingly again. Even a little hot, the way his hand on her behind had made her feel in the stable.

“You may help me now, if you wish.” She frowned. “And I will appreciate it. But if you attempt to force me to return to my friend’s house or to go home I will refuse.”

“Miss Lucas, why are you standing here with your luggage?”

“Because it suits me.”

He tilted his head. “This sort of stasis is unlikely to bring you closer to Calais.”

“You are very clever, Mr. Yale. I’d thought before that I liked that a great deal about you. But I am coming to revise my opinion.”

“Thank you.” A glint shone in his gray eyes. “And I am coming to see to whom I might apply whenever I feel the need to not be complimented.”

Her lips—agents of betrayal her entire life—twitched. For a moment his gaze seemed to focus upon them, and the tingles inside her turned to decidedly vibrant sparks. Her cheek had accidentally brushed his chin the night before. His whiskers had felt hard and rough. Her skin was still tender there from the scratch.

“I could not leave the dog behind, you see,” she explained a bit unsteadily, though that was perfectly silly because of course a man’s jaw would feel rough if one touched it in the middle of the night so many hours after he had shaved. But she could not help wondering if she touched his jaw now would the whiskers be even rougher. She wanted to. “But several people inside the coach with me didn’t like its smell of the stable—”

“It cannot be wondered at.”

“—and it would not remain in my lap when I sat on the roof. I think it is afraid of heights. Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous, a dog afraid of heights?”

“Preposterous, really.”

“You are quizzing me. But I could not strand it all alone on the road. So I was obliged to disembark prematurely. I am waiting here for the next coach.”

“You will be waiting until Thursday.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously I read the schedule at the posting inn too. I only said that to—”

“To see my reaction.” A slight grin slipped across his mouth.

Who knew a gentleman’s mouth could be so very . . . intriguing? Or that looking at it could make her feel hungry, though it was only an hour since she had eaten the snack the innkeeper’s wife packed in the wee hours while trying to convince her not to leave without him. Diantha had never noticed any gentleman’s mouth before. Noticing Mr. Yale’s now also seemed silly.

But for a moment the night before, his mouth had touched her ear, his breath hot upon her neck, and she hadn’t felt in the least bit silly. She had felt hot, and not just on her neck. All over. Merely recalling it now made her hot again.

“I said it to stall for time,” she uttered. “I am still deciding what to do. I saw a farm a mile or so back. I am considering walking there and asking for help but I haven’t perfectly worked out my plan yet.”

“Ah.” He looked very grave amidst the light rain that was quite like the color of his eyes. “Then let me not disturb your ponderings. Good day, ma’am.” He bowed from the saddle and with an elegant tip of his black hat, started off.

She couldn’t help smiling. For a man so usually elegant he was a remarkable tease. “You will not leave me here.”

He did not turn around. “Are you so certain of that?”

“Entirely.”

The dog loped after the horses. After a dozen yards it paused and looked back at her. Diantha’s breaths shortened, a thread of panic twining up her spine.

“Mr. Yale, you may as well cease this teasing,” she called. “I can see right through it.”

He slowed his horse and looked around. “It devastates me that we must part company continuing to misunderstand one another, Miss Lucas.” He bowed again. “But good day to you, and I wish you good fortune at the farm.” He clucked to the horses and they moved off again.

She gripped her damp gloves together and wiggled her toes in her soggy boots.

“I had a plan,” she shouted. “And I brought with me sufficient funds. I did not go off half-cocked on this mission. I had a plan.”

He seemed to be too distant to hear her. She ground her teeth and muttered, “True gentleman, my mother’s virtue.” She threw back her shoulders. “All right, I apologize!” Then not quite so loudly, because frankly she could not bear the humiliation of it: “Please come back.”

The black horse halted, and the other too. Mr. Yale drew them around and returned. Several yards away he dismounted, left the horses standing in the road and walked to her, the dog trailing at his heels. His attention was entirely upon her as though she were the only thing in the world, his usual manner, which of course she had liked very much until now.

He halted quite close, tall and dark and wide-shouldered, his black topcoat swirling about his taut thighs and fine boots, and very much like a man she might be afraid to encounter upon a deserted road in the rain if she did not already know him. But in fact she did not know him, not well, and mostly through her stepsisters. And the night before, when he touched her although he should not have, her knees had buckled. But for his strong hands holding her between the wall and his chest, she would have collapsed.

“Your plan was nonsensical.” His eyes glittered. She could not believe it was anger. A true gentleman, like both her fathers, held his temper from ladies. But the spark in Mr. Yale’s eyes now looked like anger. And a true gentleman did not stroke a lady’s behind in a dark stable.

Her breaths stuttered. “My plan was not nonsensical.”

His stare did not waver.

“All right,” she admitted. “It was. Somewhat. But only insofar as it took a bit longer for you to appear on that coach than I imagined.”

His brow dipped. “I beg your pardon?”

“I said, my plan was only nonsensical in that it took a bit longer for you to—”

“For me to appear. Yes. You hadn’t any idea I would be on that coach yesterday.”

She wiggled her brows. “ ‘Are you so certain of that?’ ”

“Mimicry does not suit you, minx. And, yes, I am quite certain, by the simple fact that I hadn’t any idea.”

“Really? How inconvenient for you. I always have a plan for everything.”

“I am coming to see that.”

“How is it that you came to be on this road without planning it?”

“I was at a house party and the entertainments wore thi—” He halted abruptly. “Naturally, that is immaterial. You did not know I would take that coach.”

“No. I did not know you would, that is true. But I hoped to find a hero to help me. And then you appeared and you have quite the air of a hero about you, Mr. Yale. I have always thought so.”

“I suppose I ought to be flattered by your words and no doubt sent to my knees by those dimples that have conveniently appeared at this moment—”

“I thought so until last night, that is.”

His handsome features went still. “Miss Lucas,” he said in an altered tone, “pray allow me to beg your pardon for—”

“You needn’t speak of it. Men will do foolish things when they have been drinking excessively, after all.” She did not want to hear him apologize for touching her. Somehow it felt wrong, especially since she wasn’t without blame, seeking refuge in a stable due to her own reckless misjudgment. “And I meant, of course, that I thought you seemed heroic until you told me you would not assist me.”

His broad shoulders seemed to release their rigidity. “She giveth, and again taketh away. Is this un-complimenting a habit of yours?”