Page 45 of A Landscape of Love

Fidelia had little choice but to do as he asked. She flew to the stairs, hurrying down as fast as she could. Glancing up, she saw Alex scramble to his feet and duck a blow that would have broken his jaw, and then the lad took to his heels, with Malmsey in hot pursuit. With a sigh of relief, she realised Alex had more sense than she’d credited him with. He knew Hardacre like the back of his hand, and whilst he might not have the brawn of Lord Malmsey, he was quick and lithe and well able to evade the fellow.

With no time to do anything more than snatch her bonnet and cloak, Fidelia put them on as she ran from the house, heedless of the astonished stares from butler and footmen alike. She may as well give them a show now, soon everyone would know what she’d done and why. Fidelia knew the idea ought to terrify her, but she could only feel a gleeful sense of exultation as she ran. Freedom beckoned, and whilst that freedom may come at a high price, she welcomed it.

By the time the lake came into view, sparkling even in the light of a grey March afternoon, her exuberance was waning, her lungs bursting against the confines of her corset. Ladies were not meant to run or indulge in any strenuous activity, and despite the miles she walked daily, she was unused to such energetic activity. Regardless of the cold, her cheeks burned, sweat trickling uncomfortably down her spine as she climbed the slope up to the picnic spot she had taken Hart to, what seemed like a lifetime ago now. The sight of him standing upon the rise—a large, dark shape, solid and dependable, silhouetted against the dimming light—made her heart leap and was enough to bring tears of relief to her eyes.

“Hart!” she exclaimed, the stress of the past moments crashing down upon her as he started towards her.

“Fidelia! Love, what is it? What’s happened?” he demanded, reaching for her and pulling her up to stand beside him.

“Oh, thank God,” she said, going to him without a second thought, moving into his arms as though it were the most natural thing in the world, the place she belonged.

“Now then, what’s all this?” he asked as she buried her face in his chest, inhaling the masculine woodsy scent of him with such relief her knees felt weak. His arms went around her, holding her close to him, and the feeling that swept over her, of safety and belonging, was so profound it was a moment before she could gather her wits enough to speak.

“Malmsey,” she said breathlessly. “I… Oh, Hart, I was so afraid. He really is the most despicable, loathsome toad.”

“What did he do?” There was a dangerous note in Hart’s voice, and she glanced up at him, a little daunted by the look in his eyes. The burning fury she saw there boded ill for Lord Malmsey and made Hart suddenly appear a stranger to her, far removed from the good, gentle man she knew.

“It doesn’t matter now. I’m unhurt,” she assured him, recovering herself. “But I must leave here, now, this minute. Hart, tell me, Ambrose—”

Hart shook his head. “No, not yet, love, but don’t fret. I’ll explain everything later.” He regarded her, his expression softer now as his large, calloused hand cupped her cheek. His thumb stroked her skin gently as he searched her eyes. “He didn’t hurt you? You’re sure?”

Fidelia nodded. “No, only frightened me. I’m so sorry, Hart but I must leave now. If I don’t, I dread to think what will happen to me. Malmsey was so angry. I only hope he doesn’t catch up with Alex. If not for him, I’d have not escaped.”

Hart’s face darkened once more. “I see,” he said, the words spoken through gritted teeth. “It seems Lord Malmsey needs a lesson in manners.”

Fidelia grasped at his arms, feeling the muscle beneath the thick fabric of his coat, rock hard and singing with tension. “Now, Hart, please.”

Though his desire to return to the Hall and vent his wrath on Lord Malmsey was palpable, Hart nodded. “Come then,” he said. “Can you walk? We can’t go to the stables, someone will see us. We’ll have to go cross-country to the village and pray we can get away before your father discovers what you’ve done.”

Fidelia gave him a wry look. “Of course I can walk,” she said impatiently.

“Good,” he replied crisply and took her hand, setting off at a pace that made her breathless, even though she knew he had moderated his stride for her. As they walked, she reflected on the difference between Hart’s firm hold on her hand and Malmsey’s brutal grip. Smiling, she squeezed his fingers and Hart glanced down at her.

“It will be all right,” he said, the words calm and reassuring. “I’ll not let anyone hurt you. I’ll take care of you.”

“I believe you,” she said, entirely willing to place her trust in him.

He nodded, his expression giving nothing away, and carried on walking until they came to his cottage. “Come in a moment. I need to pack a few things, as I’m unlikely to be welcomed back here again.”

Fidelia frowned. “But Hart, no one need know you helped me get away. I won’t tell anyone, and Alex wouldn’t give you away. Once I’m settled, you can return to work and deny all knowledge of my disappearance.”

Hart gave her a look of fond exasperation but said nothing as he moved deftly about the cottage, gathering his things with the minimum of fuss and packing them into a small valise.

“Right, that’s the lot. We’d best make haste.”

They’d barely set foot on the path outside the cottage when the sound of hooves thudding reached their ears. Hart pushed Fidelia gently but firmly into the space between a large laurel bush and the cottage, thrust his valise into her arms, and stepped forward to meet whoever was bearing down on them.

“Alex!” Hart said in alarm.

Upon hearing this, Fidelia emerged from the bushes, running forward to check on her brother. There was a livid bruise rising on his forehead, but he looked triumphant and seemed somehow to have grown older in a matter of hours.

“Here,” he said, as Fidelia observed he had brought a horse with him. It was ready saddled, and he passed the reins into Hart’s hands. “You’d best hurry. Malmsey was spitting fire when I left him locked in the attic rooms, and Richmond saw me leave. I doubt it will take long for them to follow.”

“Good lad,” Hart said approvingly. “You hurt?”

“A glancing blow,” Alex said in disgust, earning himself a hearty slap.

“Good on you. We’ll hear all about it later, eh? You’re coming with us?” Hart guessed, something Fidelia had not expected.