Patricia Wynn by Lord Tom

reservations. She smiled rather wistfully at the thought of hay in his wind-tossed hair. It seemed so natural, somehow, to think of him up there on the box, taking her to safety —not so much as her groom, but just taking care of her. How easily she had come to think of him as Tom. But of course she mustn’t! Lord Harleston had already risked too much by embroiling himself in her troublesome affairs. She must not think of him as her friend. Friendship with a woman who was wanted by the authorities could only harm him. Susan tried to think of the pleasure of seeing her governess again, but in spite of her sincere devotion to that lady, found it hard to imagine her face. A pair of laughing, brown-gold eyes kept swimming in the way.
     
    Up on the box, Tom whistled to himself and cracked his whip to urge on a sluggish wheeler. The leaders’ pace suited his humour to a T. In case the authorities had somehow leapt to a suspicion of Susan’s identity, he had chosen to detour south and west towards the Folkstone road to London. It would add a bit to their time, but should give a measure of security.
    Without Peg’s sultry eyes upon him, he was free to indulge an inclination to laugh over the morning’s work. Even the memory of the male passenger on board ship brought a smile to his lips. The fellow had really been taken with Susan — Miss Johnstone, that is, Tom reminded himself. But who wouldn’t be?
    He remembered her exquisite profile as she had gazed blissfully out to sea, the wind ruffling the gentle curls at her ears. Something stirred within him and he had to recall himself to the business of guiding the horses before they bolted from the sudden tension in his hands. It was too bad, he reflected, that they could not ride in comfort together rather than separated by the etiquette of the coach. Perhaps when they reached London and got rid of Peg, some other arrangement might be made. He searched his mind for a different solution, but could not think of one which would accomplish their mission and still serve the proprieties. Damn the proprieties!
    It might be nice if Peg and she could change places, he thought fancifully. Certainly the servant girl had had no worries about her reputation when she had joined him on the box. He could still feel the warmth on his left side where she had pressed herself against him. Quite a handful, that one, but not for him. He would never consider using his masquerade to deceive the poor wench. Not that he thought a little deceit would trouble Peg overmuch, but if she were with them much longer, her overtures might become a problem. He could not blame her for making the most of her situation, for as long as she was in service she would be closely watched and forbidden to be with a man. She was just taking her chance on finding a husband before it was too late. With her buxom figure she should not have much trouble.
    But his tastes ran more to dark-haired, willowy ladies, with a gentle manner and a courageous heart. He would be saying goodbye to Susan in a matter of hours, he realized, and yet here he was urging the horses on to the end of their journey. He started to pull them up, but came to the conclusion that it would not do him much good. It would only prolong getting rid of Peg. And Susan could not share the box with him, on any account. He must do what he could to protect her name.
    Of course, the next task would be to seek a pardon for her defiance of the law. He would work on that as soon as he resumed his own identity. Lord Harleston had little fear he would be unable to clear her somehow, but that could take time. He had already left word with his staff not to expect him back for several weeks. He would stay in London, working towards her pardon, and, of course, travelling back and forth to give Susan reports of his progress.
    The first person to approach would be the Prince’s equerry. Thank heavens Captain Johnstone had been such a dandy, for the Prince, if he recalled, had