He now knew what it was to love something so much you’d do anything to keep it safe.
“Be well, Mrs. Cartwright.” He turned to take his leave.
Instead, in the parlor beyond, he spotted Dixon conferring with two other men. Court officers? Clergy? Dixon glanced up, said something to the men. He intersected with Neville just outside the front door.
“How are Willard’sguests?” Neville asked.
“There are three of them—not counting Mrs. Cartwright and her daughter. They are, of course, rattled,” Dixon replied. “Devastated, I suspect. But relieved, too. I’ve just been speaking with the rector. His wife is going to take them in until the families can be contacted.”
“I would stay but—”
“Nonsense,” Dixon interrupted. “You and your lady have been through quite an ordeal. I like to see things put right. That doesn’t happen often enough.”
Neville nodded. “You’re a good one, Dixon. Call at the house when you get back to London. I will see you paid.”
“Much obliged,” the man replied, before turning back toward the parlor.
Neville glanced over his shoulder. Then, with a sigh, he headed back out to his wife, who was standing by an empty coach, looking as if she belonged on the back rail. He smiled with deep affection—affection that nearly caused his throat to close.
“Where is Asquith?” he asked.
“The tollkeeper’s son arrived with a message. He mumbled a curse and then he was gone.”
“What were the two of you discussing?”
“I caught him with a maid in his mother’s stables.” Millie frowned. “At least I hope it was a maid. I’m afraid…” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Well, never you mind. Here is the carriage. And just in time, too. I’ve never been so exhausted.”
“You know,” Neville said with a wry twist of his lips. “I’d wanted to see you in breeches…but not like this.”
Millie chuckled half-heartedly. “I can wear them any time you like.”
Briefly, Neville closed his eyes and groaned. “You had better not.”
Millie broke into a deep laugh. She could still jest. He couldn’t begin to describe the depth of his gratitude.
“Shall we head back to London?” he asked.
“Is there anywhere closer?” she replied.
“I think something can be arranged.”
Neville directed the carriage to his mother’s house in Brighton. His mother, of course, was still in London. But Neville didn’t think she’d mind if Millie borrowed an article or two of her clothing for the night. John had likely left behind a shirt, which, though ill-fitting, would do while his own clothes were freshened.
“A day or two by the sea,” she said as she snuggled close. “Just the thing.”
“Not a classic wedding trip…”
“I don’t care.
He kissed her gently. Lingeringly.
“Neville?” she queried.
“Umm?”
“Are you angry at me?”
“Furious,” he replied tenderly, moving his mouth along her brow. “Can’t you tell?”