Elizabeth drew a deep breath and pressed her hands to her churning stomach. Her husband clearly thought he'd dismissed her.

Her chin lifted with determination.

Her husband clearly didn't know everything.


Austin strode from the town house, mentally congratulating himself on his hasty departure. He'd scribbled quick notes to his mother and Miles stating he'd been unavoidably called away to France. Regret pricked him at the way he'd left Elizabeth, but he hadn't had a choice. If he'd stayed in that room with her for another moment he would have said or done something he'd regret. Like dropped to my knees and begged her to love me.

An impatient sound escaped him and he forced himself to push thoughts of her aside. He had to concentrate on the task at hand. On his trip to France. On finding Gaspard. And hopefully William. He had to stop thinking about Elizabeth.

The footman opened the coach door for him. Austin placed his foot on the step and froze.

Elizabeth, garbed in her peacock traveling suit, sat in the coach.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he asked.

She raised her brows. "I'm waiting for you."

"If you wish to speak with me, you'll have to wait until I return. I'm leaving immediately."

"Yes, I know. And the sooner you settle yourself, the sooner we can depart."

"We?" A bark of incredulous laughter escaped him. "We are not going anywhere."

Her chin raised an inch. "I beg to differ. We are going to France."

Anger shot through him. With a curt nod he dismissed the hovering footman. Leaning into the carriage, he said in a tightly controlled voice, "The only place you are going is back into the house. Now."

"Do you truly think that is for the best?"

"Yes."

She nodded thoughtfully. "It seems like a dreadful waste of time to me. You see, if you make me leave this coach, you will be further delayed by having to remove my luggage. And then I shall have to arrange other transportation to Dover."

His lips collapsed into a tight line. "You will do nothing of the kind."

Determination fired in her eyes. "Yes, I will."

"The hell you will. I forbid it."

"I shall go just the same."

He barely smothered the vicious oath that rose to his lips. Damn stubborn woman. "Elizabeth, you are not-"

"How is your French?"

That gave him pause. "My French?"

"According to Caroline, you understand the language but can't speak it well enough for anyone to comprehend."

Even while he mentally consigned his sister to perdition, he couldn't deny the truth of her words. His French was atrocious.

His lip curled. "And I suppose you're fluent?"

She shot him a beaming smile. "Oui. Naturellement."

"And who taught you French?"

"My English mother, who studied the language as all English young ladies do." Her smile faded and her eyes turned imploring and determined at the same time. "Please understand. I cannot let you go alone. I promised to help you, and help you I shall. If you refuse to take me with you, I shall be forced to travel to Calais on my own."

He could tell by the tilt of her chin and the fierce resolve in her expression that she would do as she threatened unless he planned to tie her forcibly to a chair. And even if he did he didn't doubt that Robert, Miles, Caroline, or even his own mother would untie her. Damn it, the entire bloody family would no doubt accompany her to France.

Knowing he was defeated but not liking it one bit, he climbed into the carriage. Without waiting for the footman, he slammed the door shut himself, then signaled the driver to depart.

Chapter 22


The damn woman was impossible to ignore.