She couldn’t allow that to happen to Ashley. And how could it be prevented except through Ashley marrying? Her friend had pointed her long, slender finger at Lord Blackthorne, and the man—in what was surely a rare moment—had shown honor and agreed.
“Ashley, you’re not standing in my way,” Maddie finally said. “I know this started out as an adventure, but it’s become far more serious. You must marry Blackthorne.”
Ashley blinked and studied her face. “I know. But that means you must marry Mr. Dover.”
Maddie wanted to say she didn’t have to do anything. But though she cared little for herself, she did care for her family. She had no desire to shame them.
And she did care for her charitable work. How could it continue if she were shunned from Society—the men and women who funded so much of her benevolence?
The answer was that it couldn’t. Which meant she must marry Mr. Dover, and Ashley must marry Lord Blackthorne, and Lord Nicholas must, well . . . there was probably no help for Lord Nicholas.
“Maddie?” Ashley said.
She turned to see her friend looking at her with concern.
“Will you marry Mr. Dover? Because I’m not doing this if you’re not.”
Maddie’s stomach clenched and sank. She felt ill and exhausted and trapped. She wished she could go back to her life before all the marriage proposals. She wished she could go back to the time when her biggest worry was whether a rain shower would ruin her plans to ride in Hyde Park.
And most of all, she wished she had never met Lord Blackthorne. Then she might have been happy with Mr. Dover. She might have been content in a passionless marriage, had she never known she could feel what she felt with Jack. She longed to go back and start over.
But it was too late for that now. It was too late, and she knew that no matter how hard she tried to smile and think positively, she was never going to be truly happy.
Never.
Not without Jack holding her in her arms. Maddie took a breath and smiled sadly at Ashley. “I am going to marry Mr. Dover, and you’ll marry Lord Blackthorne. Let’s have a double wedding.”
“Oh, yes!” Ashley exclaimed, clasping Maddie’s hand in hers. “This might even be fun if you’re standing by my side.”
Maddie squeezed her hand. “I feel the same.”
“It’s decided, then. Together until the end.”
Maddie swallowed. The words felt ominous. “Together until the end,” she echoed.
For Maddie, the rest of the trip went by in a blur of rolling fields, moors, dales, and posting houses. The speed set by the Martingale brothers was punishing for all involved. She and Ashley were irritable and exhausted. In the jouncing carriage, sleep was impossible, and even if she did doze off, the frequent stops woke her again.
Maddie was hungry and thirsty and had to use the privy, but Lord Blackthorne and Lord Nicholas were immune to her pleas to escape the confines of the carriage. She knew they were right. Bleven or her father or the owners of their stolen carriage could be right on their heels. They had to keep going.
Mr. Dover, cheerful now that they had made up for so much lost time, echoed that sentiment frequently. “We must keep going,” he told her when she complained that her bottom was pins and needles and her head ached. She’d given him a glowering look, but it hadn’t shut him up until, near Scotch Corner, Ashley threatened to stuff her handkerchief down his throat if he spoke again. The rest of that day had been blissfully quiet, and she stared out the window as they passed through Brough and Penrith. She knew they were close now. They need only reach Carlisle and then they could slip over the Scottish border. Carlisle was only eight miles from Gretna Green.
As noon came and went on the last day of their trip, Maddie’s heart began to pound. She looked at Mr. Dover, staring silently out the window, pocket watch in hand, and knew that tonight she would share his marriage bed.
But she was determined not to marry or share his bed in the state she was in at present. The truth of the matter was that she stank. She and Ashley both, and no doubt Mr. Dover too, though she didn’t want to get close enough to find out.
When Lord Nicholas called out that they were five miles from Carlisle, she pounded on the roof. A moment later Lord Blackthorne’s face, impatient and annoyed, appeared. He too looked a bit worse for their hard travels. He had the beginnings of a black beard and his eyes were bloodshot. His skin was gray and his clothing haggard. One look at him made up Maddie’s mind.
“We’re stopping in Carlisle,” she said. “I need a bath and so does Ashley, and if that stench is what I think it is, so do you two.”
Blackthorne shook his head. “We don’t—”
“Have time,” Maddie and Ashley said together.
He scowled at them and made to close the hatch, but Maddie shoved her hand in the way. “We have acquiesced to your timetable and made the most of this grueling journey without complaint.”
He barked laughter at this last bit, but Maddie went on. “And now I—we, your fiancée and I—are asking for a short time in which to prepare ourselves for the night to come. Surely, you can understand our desire to bathe before we . . . ” She trailed off and made a gesture to the effect that he could fill in the rest.
But, as usual, Lord Blackthorne, didn’t play by the rules. “Before we what?” he asked.
