Chapter Four
Visiting Bidham and seeing Liberty there, in the place they’d once been friends, had unsettled him, and it had been a long time since he’d allowed anything to do that. He’d forced down any emotion that made him weak.
Toby had seen Liberty many times in London since she entered society. He’d been curious as to why she had not done so until the age of twenty-one, but he no longer had the right to ask.
They’d avoided each other for three seasons, but he’d watched her.
His childhood friend, like him, had changed. The girl who had laughed freely was now serious and reserved. He rarely saw her smile or talk in groups of young ladies like others. No, Liberty had a single friend, Miss Alice Hamner.
She’d never spoken to Toby, nor he her. Not once had the situation arisen where there was a need to interact, other than a curt nod, or muttered, “my lady,” on his part.
Toby told himself he was happy with that.
Had to be happy with that, as this was the path he’d chosen, and could not afford to deviate from. This is how he stayed safe.
But sometimes, when she slid under his guard, even now, years after he’d turned from her, Toby remembered things.
Times they’d spent together all those years ago, and conversations they’d shared.
Promises they’d made for the future. It was then he distracted himself, usually with his business interests.
When his father died leaving the Corbyn finances in excellent health, Toby knew it was up to him to ensure that continued. With money came control and safety, and he needed those in his life.
He’d increased his portfolio with two mills and a factory, but nothing ever completely satisfied him, and he always wanted more.
Sometimes he wondered if one day his demons would end him.
That he’d lie in his bed and let the past he’d fought to rise above consume him, descending Toby into madness.
If he were honest, it would be a relief.
It was never good for him to spend too much time alone with his thoughts, but as the dream about his father had spurred him on, he’d gone to Hawthorne and now Bidham, many years too late. But it was a start.
Will I go back there? The answer had to be yes until he knew what was going on in the village. He’d ignored it for too long.
Looking out the window, Toby watched the flashes of light and dark as they followed the tree line in the fading afternoon sun. Deep in thought it took him a minute to realize the carriage was slowing and then it came to a complete halt.
Lifting the hatch above his head, he said, “What’s wrong, Rory?”
“A carriage appears to have broken down, my lord.”
Toby sighed. He couldn’t very well drive around it, even if he wanted to. So he opened the door and stepped down. He saw a carriage listing slightly to the left ahead of him. Walking toward it, he then saw the people. Toby focused on the women in the middle of the group of three.
“Hello,” he said when nothing else came to mind.
“Go on your way, my lord,” Lady Liberty said, glaring at him through her round eyeglasses. “My footman is about to ride for help. We have no wish to hold you up.”
Did her voice sound shaky?
Toby focused on the woman who had once climbed trees and run endlessly over the hills and valleys of their families’ estates with him. She was pale, and her face pinched as if in pain.
“How can I be of assistance, Lady Liberty?” Toby asked, staying where he was and ignoring her order, because that’s exactly what it had been, even if the delivery was weak.
“I want no assistance from you, Lord Corbyn,” she said slowly.
“And yet your carriage wheel is broken, and I am here ready to help, as I fear it will start raining soon, and the air is cool. So perhaps we could relocate to the next inn and wait there until your carriage is repaired?” He kept his voice calm and even.
In truth, he would like to obey her and leave, as any time spent with this woman was as comfortable as dancing in stinging nettles because of their history.
But if there were one thing he excelled at, it was hiding his thoughts.
“No,” she said. Just the one word as she started toward her carriage, believing that was the end of the matter. Her steps appeared slow and unsteady.
He’d noted that about her too. The agile and elegant girl he’d known wasn’t that anymore. She barely danced, and when she did, Toby could tell she wasn’t comfortable.
“No?”
“No, thank you,” she added.
Toby watched as she stumbled and was steadied by her maid.
“Liberty—” Before he finished his sentence she appeared to sway, and then was falling.
Her maid shrieked. Both the footman and Toby ran, but it was he who caught her just before she hit the ground. Toby cradled her limp body as he made his way to his carriage in long strides.
“What’s going on, Helen?” Toby demanded as ice sluiced through his veins, fear for someone he’d long since thought he’d stopped caring for.
“Men tried to rob us. Lady Liberty shot one, and Jasper another, but when the wheel broke, she fell into the door, and it opened and threw her out.”
He couldn’t remember when he last felt the panic that was gripping him. Liberty’s hands hung limp at her sides, and her head lay against his chest. The dark crescents of her lashes were a stark contrast against her pale cheeks.
Not dead.
“She hit her head but made me and Jasper help her upright when she heard your carriage. She’s a stubborn one, and even had me fetch her bonnet,” Helen added.
Toby remembered Liberty Talbot’s stubbornness all too well.
“My lord?”
“I will let you know when to move, Rory,” he told his driver, who was now standing looking worried. “For now, stay seated,” he said to his driver. “Be alert in case those who tried to rob Lady Liberty return.”
Climbing inside his carriage, he lowered Liberty onto the seat. Taking the blanket Helen handed him, he bundled it into a pillow and then eased her head onto it. He took off her eyeglasses next and slid them into his pocket. Toby then tugged the satin bow open and removed her bonnet.
“Liberty,” he rasped, bending over her. “Wake up now.” Toby hadn’t been this close to her in a long time.
His eyes went to the ridge of a scar beneath her chin.
How had she gotten that? It hadn’t been there when he knew her.
Before he could stop himself, he ran a finger down one pale cheek. So soft.
“Open your eyes, Liberty.” Toby put more force into his words.
Her lashes fluttered open, and those pretty blue eyes looked up at him, dazed and confused.
“How do you feel?”
She clenched her eyes shut and opened them again.
“Liberty, how do you feel?” he persisted.
“What happened?” she rasped.
“You fainted.”
“I did not.” He wanted to snort at her words as they sounded more like the old Liberty he’d known.
“You certainly did, and I caught you,” Toby said.
She pushed at his shoulder, and he eased back slightly. Liberty then struggled to rise. Toby held her down with a hand.
“Release me,” she hissed.
“No, because if you faint again, then I’ll have to catch you.”
“I don’t faint,” she whispered.
“I beg to differ.”
Her lips clamped into a hard line.
“I want to sit up now, Lord Corbyn.”
“Very well, but I will help you.” Toby slid an arm under her shoulders and sat her upright.
“Thank you.”
“Let me look at your head now, Liberty.”
“I am Lady Liberty, or my lady,” she said slowly as clearly she was in pain, and any movement hurt. “I don’t need you to look at my head. Helen can take care of me.” She shrank back into the seat to evade the grip he had on her shoulders. When that didn’t work, she said, “Unhand me.”
Ignoring her, he eased her forward and then used his free hand to part the thick copper locks. Matted with blood, they were stuck to her head, and there were so many pins holding the thick mass of curls in place, he wasn’t sure how her head didn’t ache. Toby began to ease them out.
“Ouch,” she whispered with no strength. “Stop that. Where is Helen? She can do it.”
Ignoring her, he continued until the last one lay on the floor of the carriage where he’d thrown them. Toby then studied the cut. It was deep, but not too long, and still bled sluggishly.
“It needs cleaning and dressing,” he said, easing her back onto the seat.
“And I will see that done when we reach the next inn. I’m going to get out of your carriage now, Lord Corbyn.”
“No, you’re not, because you are too weak to do so.”
“You can’t—”
“Get in beside your mistress, Helen, while I speak with Lady Liberty’s footman and driver. Do not let her out of this carriage.”
“At once, my lord,” Helen said, doing as he asked when he’d climbed out.
He shut the door behind the maid and then approached the footman and driver. “I will take one of you to the next inn, and you can organize someone to come and fix that wheel. I will ensure your mistress is safe until you can collect her.”
It was decided the driver would stay with the horses and the footman was soon seated up beside Rory, which his driver would not mind, as he loved to talk.
Opening the carriage door again, he stepped into a tense silence.
“Trouble?” He looked at Helen. The maid shook her head.
“Stop berating your maid for doing the right thing, my lady,” he then said to Liberty.
“Go to hell,” she replied. Then closed her eyes. She was now resting her cheek on the side of the carriage.
They started moving as he took the seat opposite the two women.
Toby watched Liberty and saw every wince or exhale as they hit a bump in the road, but she didn’t make a noise. That too was different. Liberty had been loud and once spoke every thought that came into her head. She’d laughed louder than anyone he knew.
Had he played a part in changing the girl into the woman before him today?
Toby let his eyes run over her.
Her hair was the color of sunset and had once been the bane of her existence because no one else had locks like it.
He’d heard men call her beautiful, in a cool, aloof way, but none so far had captured her hand.
Hers was a face that made you look again.
Want to study the soft arc of her brows and long dark lashes.
See the flashes of emotion in her blue eyes.
Her top lip was slightly fuller than the bottom, and he wondered if any man had kissed it…
her. The bolt of anger told him not to think about that or her too much again.
Her eyes opened suddenly and caught him staring. She then squinted as if to bring him into focus.
“Where are my eyeglasses, Helen?”
“Please,” Toby said, taking them from his pocket and handing them to her.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Helping you?” She nodded at his words. “Because I was there, and you needed my help.”
“We loathe each other, and I would have been fine waiting in my carriage, as you very well know, Lord Corbyn.”
“I don’t loathe you,” Toby said slowly, knowing that was the impression he’d left her with many years ago.
Her laugh held no humor. “Of course you don’t, which is why you told me you never wanted to see me again.”
He saw it then, the hurt in her eyes he’d inflicted all those years ago with his cruel words. Helen shifted in her seat, clearly uncomfortable with their conversation.
“Liberty—”
“Lady Liberty,” she said, raising her chin. “We are not informal, you and I, and never will be again. For three years we have avoided each other. It is my hope that continues.”
He didn’t speak, just kept his eyes on her face.
“Leave when we reach our destination, my lord, as we have nothing further to say to each other,” she added, dismissing him.
No one dismissed Toby. He’d earned respect in the business world, and in society no one dared speak to him in such a way. Only her, he thought. She’d once challenged him constantly, especially when she thought he was being overbearing.
“I am not leaving you in this condition,” Toby said in a cold, hard voice.
“Why? Don’t try to tell me you care,” she scoffed, which held no strength as her cheek was still resting on the side of his carriage.
“It is done, and I will see you to the next inn.”
She looked at him then. Stared into his eyes, and he suddenly felt stripped bare. As if she could read everything he kept locked away inside him. All the dark, angry scars and pain.
“Why?” she whispered. “I know who you’ve become, and that you care nothing for me or anyone.”
“What have I become?” He mocked her, when deep inside he was reeling from her words. Reeling from being this close to Liberty again.
“A womanizing rake and a wastrel.” The words had no strength, but each one sliced through him with the accuracy of a knife.
“And you,” he gritted out, striking back at her. “What have you become?”
“Why don’t you tell me?” Her lip curled, enraging him further.
Toby fought for control. No one slid under his guard, ever. But she had.
“I see a cold and emotionless woman as yet unwed,” he said, deliberately cutting. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, and like her, he’d spoken them to inflict pain. More pain on someone who didn’t deserve it from him.
They glared at each other, and then he watched the single tear spill over her eyelid, and trail down her cheek.
“Liberty,” Toby rasped, completely undone by the sight. “I’m sorry. I should not have—”
“I hate you.” The words were whispered, but he heard them, and then she closed her eyes again, and he had to sit there and watch that tear trail down her cheek.