On horseback, Hart opened the bottom gate, and they set out in the early afternoon on a fine day when the sun cast sharp shadows beneath the trees, the air fresh and scented with the wildflowers which grew over the hills. Hart jumped Blaze over a low fence. He glanced back as Maddie’s horse sailed over it behind him. Hart smiled, admiring her gumption. His smile faded when he considered her reluctance to respond to his proposal, which he had to admit, spoke of a reluctance to marry him. Or to place her trust in him. Hart couldn’t deny it was a blow to his male pride, but more than that, he found it profoundly disappointing.
They reined the horses in at the top of a hill to survey the beautiful downs; the ribbon of the River Mole threaded its way through the green, and the small village nestled in the shallow valley below. They could see villagers going about their day, and the small piece of land on which Lilybrook Cottage sat looked like part of the garden with its thatched roof and leafy bower.
Hart tensed and leaned forward in the saddle, watching a man ride down the lane. Outside the cottage, he dismounted to open the gate and led his horse inside.
“We have a visitor,” Hart said.
Maddie held a hand up to shade her eyes. “I can’t see anyone.”
“He’s walked beneath the chestnut tree. You wait here. I’ll go back.”
“You’re not leaving me here, Hart. I’ll come with you.”
He turned to her, exasperated. “It’s best they don’t see you, Maddie.”
When Hart turned to look again, the man had mounted his horse. He rode away up the lane.
“It’s all right. He’s gone. Could be anyone, but let’s ride down and see what Jane says.”
When they reached the cottage, Jane rushed over, high color in her cheeks. “Milord, milady,” she cried as Hart dismounted.
“What is it, Jane? Who was that man?” Maddie asked as Hart assisted her down.
“He came while I swept the porch, milady.” Distressed, Jane put a hand to her chest. “He asked to see the lady of the house. I told him you weren’t in. Then he asked if Miss Burrell lived here. I didn’t know what I should say, but I thought it best to admit it, because you’re known by that name in these parts.” Her voice fell away. “Did I do right, milady?”
“You did, Jane,” Maddie said admiringly. “It was well done.”
“Take a breath, Jane,” Hart urged. “Tell us slowly. What did he look like?”
“He was thin and had dark hair.” She thought for a moment. “There was a scar on his cheek.”
Maddie stared at her. “It sounds very much like the man who held me captive in the coach. Did he say anything else?”
Jane took a large breath, the red fading from her cheeks. “He asked when you would be back, and I said you’d gone away on a journey. He said his master knew of a lady who he thought might be her. That a relative of his in the village sent him word of her. Then I said I didn’t think so because your people came from Scotland.” She looked panicked. “Should I have said Scotland? I couldn’t think of anywhere else.”
“What quick thinking, Jane,” Maddie said.
“A horrid-looking man, with sunken cheeks. I was so relieved when he left.”
“How distressing for you. I am sorry.” Maddie cast a worried glance at Hart.
“This is a blow,” Hart said. “He will most likely come back. We have to move quickly.”
Maddie looked distressed. “I should not have gone to church.”
“You don’t know that. They might have seen you at the store, or the inn, or even walking in the street.”
“Must we leave here?” She cast a longing glance at the cottage.
“Wakeham will have his spies about.” He took her by the shoulders and searched her troubled eyes. “Do you wish to find another hiding place?”
She shook her head.
“Then it has to be Scotland. I know a ceremony over a blacksmith’s anvil is not what any woman wishes for, but will you come, Maddie? Are you willing to marry me?”
“Yes.” Her lips trembled.
“I won’t be able to hire a carriage in this small town. I’ll go back for the coach.” Hart pulled his pistol from his saddle. “Have you had any experience with firearms, Maddie?”