Chapter 22
Belle waited until their driver vanished into the Twin Brothers Inn before she jumped from the carriage and dashed in a different direction. She only had moments before Simon, already inside securing their luncheon, would notice the driver had left his post and would rush back outside himself. Though Gretna Green was famous for its elopements, it was still just a tiny village, consisting of only a few constructions.
She headed for the only immediate shelter in sight, which happened to be a coach a few feet away from where they halted. A pang in her chest stalled her for a moment and she glanced over her shoulder with longing and regret.
Really, what did Simon expect? That she would just allow herself to be drugged and kidnapped? That she would be passive about something in which they so fervently disagreed? This was not the Middle Ages. Men did not throw women over their shoulders and ravish them in caves. These were modern times and she refused to give in to such barbaric antics. No matter how endearing the sentiment.
The coach was the perfect place to hide and without further thought she threw open the door and jumped in, startling two young lovers out of their embrace.
“My apologies. Please do not stop on my account,” Belle murmured, unconcerned that there were occupants in the coach. In fact, it suited her purpose much better. Now, no unsuspecting couple would discover their coach had been appropriated—they were already aware of her. And perhaps they’d prove interesting company on her journey home.
The couple continued to stare at her eyes wide.
Belle raised a brow. “If you do not mind, I will just wait here for a while.”
That brought them out of their shock.
“Of course,” the lady replied, a delighted smile spreading across her face. “I am Lady Lucinda Albright and this is Lord Beaverstoke.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you both, I am—”
“You are Lady Belle Middleton, yes?” Lucinda replied with obvious excitement. “We know who you are. You’re quite famous.”
Taken aback, Belle regarded them with suspicion.
Famous?
Surely not.
She studied the couple with newfound interest. Lady Lucinda bubbled with merriment, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. Wild, dark curls framed her face in direct contrast to Lord Beaverstoke’s thinning light hair. A pretty girl made even more so by her partner. It was clear she outshone him in every way, casting him into the shadows. But by the looks of the young lord, he may even prefer it that way.
Her gaze took him in, not certain she’d ever heard or seen him before. He was quite unremarkable, with his mouse-colored hair, pointy nose, and thin lips. Perched on said nose were small glasses, almost too small for his long, pointy face.
Wait…a memory flitted through her mind. A rumor of a clumsy lord that fell over his own feet when he brought his lady love roses. The thorns of the roses scratched his face during his tumble as he had forgotten to have them removed. Could this be that couple?
“You must have me confused with someone else, Lady Lucinda. I’m hardly famous.”
“Oh, but you are! You are acquainted with the most notorious rakes in London,” Lucinda whispered scandalized. “What’s more, your friends married two of those rakes!”
Belle blinked at the couple sitting across from her at a loss for words.
Lord Beaverstoke remained silent but watchful.
“Well, I daresay you will be quite famous then, as well—eloping with the gentleman that forgot to remove the thorns from his roses.”
Lady Lucinda giggled. “Oh, that was quite brave of him! I fell in love instantly when I saw him standing before me all bloody and bruised, yet not letting that get him down.”
Belle clamped her gaping mouth shut. It was a wonder Lord Beaverstoke survived at all, she mused with a touch of sarcasm. Brave indeed.
“I say, why areyouin Gretna Green? Are you eloping, as well?”
For the first time, Lord Beaverstoke looked truly intrigued by the conversation.
“I—well, no,” Belle murmured, pulling back the curtain somewhat to see if Simon had discovered her missing yet. “I find myself in a bit of a spot and would consider it a personal favor if you’d escort me home. That is if you aren’t planning on crossing the seas in celebration of your nuptials.”
“Of course we will take you home! But are you hiding from someone, Lady Belle?” The ever-curious Lady Lucinda asked. Her eyes caught something beyond Belle, through the parted curtain. “Well, I never! Is that the Earl of Westfield?”
Both Lady Lucinda and Lord Beaverstoke were looking out the window now in curiosity.
