Chapter Nine
J ames and Bentley tied up Shuttlebotham and the man on the box who was not a coachman. They tethered their two horses behind the coach. Bentley jumped up on the box and aimed his musket at the coachman while James rode inside with Venus and the two captives.
Twenty minutes later, they reached a town that, blessedly, had a posting inn. If it had been an hour later, deep snow would have kept them from moving at all.
Inside the inn, the proprietor was falling all over himself to please them when he learned the Duke of Bentley was his patron. He helped them put Shuttlebotham and his two accomplices in one of the guest chambers and lock them in. James requested a private parlor.
“You go to the parlor,” the duke said. “I am going downstairs to the tavern. I can use a bumper of ale.” James knew he must be trying to give him and Venus privacy.
As soon as Bentley left, Venus rushed to James and threw her arms around him. “You came to rescue me! I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”
He backed away enough to create space between them. Being so close to Venus Jones did funny things to him. Physically. And mentally. “It was nothing. My sister was so distressed. She said I must come after you.”
The poor woman looked crestfallen. “Oh. Then it was all right with you if I was forced to marry that odious Donald Shuttlebotham?”
“Well, no. Not really.”
“Were you angry with him?”
“I’ll say I was angry! I wanted to kill him.”
Now her pretty little face brightened, and she bestowed an angelic smile upon him. “Then you do care for me. Admit it.”
“Of course, I care for you.”
“I don’t mean like you care for Emily, either.”
“I love my sister.”
Those blue eyes of hers held his. “And I love you. And I think, whether you know it or not, you love me, Mr. James Beresford.”
She loves me? Her unexpected declaration made him feel as if he’d just won at Ascot. He was unprepared for the rush of emotion that consumed him. Could all these mixed-up feelings mean he was in love with her? As he stood there drinking in the perfection of pretty Venus Jones, he thought perhaps this was something akin to love. Never removing his eyes from hers, he swallowed. “What makes you think that?”
“The Kiss.”
The very memory of that kiss had him unintentionally moving to her and drawing her into his arms. Just as his head lowered to taste her lips, she pulled away.
“I couldn’t possibly allow such liberties to a man who has no intention of making me his wife.”
Could James possibly be fortunate enough to the be the man to win the hand of pretty Venus? His eyes lovingly swept over her. He realized he did want her for his wife. The whole time he’d worried that Shuttlebotham might have compromised her, James’s anger toward the vile man was fueled partly by jealousy. He’d hated that his own reluctance to declare himself might have enabled Shuttlebotham to marry her, the only woman James could ever consider marrying.
“But I do have that intention.”
She came closer and spoke in a husky whisper. “Say it, James.”
“I . . . believe I’m in love with you.”
“And what else?”
What else? “Oh, yes, I suppose I really do want to make you my wife.”
“And I gladly consent.”
He pulled her into his embrace and renewed the pleasure of kissing the most lovable lady he knew.
The End