Chapter 16
It took some time before everything was in place for the midnight ride to Gretna Green. That Scottish town just beyond the northern border had been host to many an eloping couple in its day, and though Christopher hated to follow a crowd, he felt it was the safest haven for their pair of lovers. Once they crossed the border, En-glish law could not touch Chester and Belinda, and they could be wed in a hasty ceremony before the duke or god or the regent himself could say a word in protest.
But first, there were letters. Lots and lots of letters.
Har-ding’s boots, Christopher noted, would need to be replaced, what with all the running he was doing about London, hand delivering their messages. The missives flew between Belinda and Christopher, between Christopher and Chester, between Christopher and various allies whose support would be paramount, and, with Christopher acting as middleman and Har-ding the courier, between the lovers themselves. Chester and Belinda tended to send each other long pages of verse, which Christopher was too gentlemanly to read in depth.
Plans were made, then refined. Christopher purchased a new landau specifically for the escape: something light and swift should they be pursued, yet sturdy enough to make the journey in one piece. He chose his team of horses with all due care, with less of an eye for their looks and more for their stamina and ability to move in perfect tandem. There was no question as to who would be the driver—-Christopher would hear no argument.
If you know of anyone else in London who can out--drive the duke’s best man, he wrote in one of his secret letters to Chester, then please introduce us. Otherwise, leave it in my hands. I know what I’m doing.
This was a lie, of course. Christopher had no idea what he was doing; he had never broken a law in his life—-a written one, at least—-and had no experience in assisting a couple to elope. Yet he was determined, and with Har-ding at his side, he felt they could not fail.
At last came the appointed night, when all parties were poised to flee.
Christopher stood on the northernmost corner of Grosvenor Square beside his new carriage, which sat with its roof pulled up to enclose the occupants. The weather had turned chill and the wind had picked up, but at least the sky looked clear. He tipped his head back to survey the stars and adjusted the fall of his ivory greatcoat. Har-ding stood just a few feet away, holding the horses. Dressed all in black, he looked like a ghoul come to collect souls. The thought made Christopher smile despite himself.
He checked his pocket watch by the light of the carriage lantern. Six minutes to midnight.
“She will come,” Har-ding said, unbidden. “She will not miss this appointment.”
Christopher hooked a brow at him, then peered up at the carriage window. The thick velvet curtains were pulled shut to conceal the precious cargo waiting inside. “I know,” he said. “I do not doubt her.” He bit his lip. “Nor you, dear fellow. I cannot thank you enough for what you’re about to do for the sake of my friends.”
“They are friends of mine as well,” Har-ding said, “if I may be so bold as to make the claim.”
“After tonight, you can be as bold as you please. There won’t be much else bolder.” Christopher glanced again at his timepiece. Four minutes.
He heard the light sound of footsteps upon the cobbles. Lady Belinda was early, then. Eager, as a bride should be.
He and Har-ding shared a look and a nod.
“Good luck, my lord,” Har-ding said.
“And you.” Christopher swung up on the seat and gathered the reins just as Belinda came around the corner. Her face was flushed, her hair escaping from its bonnet. In her hand was a small case.
“The footmen saw me leave!” she cried. Her voice rang out in the quiet of the night. “They’re right behind me. We must hurry.”
“Quickly, then! Get in!” Christopher called out. He whipped the horses, and they whinnied like hell was nipping at their hind legs.
The chase was on.