Not too well, she hoped, and contrived to affect a more suitably worried expression. “I’m not certain how else to take it.”
He considered that, and her, for a moment before nodding. “You should be going. The others are waiting to say good-bye.”
He led her to the front stairs, where Lady Thurston took her performance to new heights, fussing over Evie extensively before bravely sniffing back tears and exiting quickly into the house. The woman was astonishing.
Lizzy sidled up next, just in time for them both to watch McAlistair and Mr. Hunter ride up the drive.
“He’s a wild one, isn’t he, miss?” Lizzy whispered with a subtle—thankfully—jerk of her chin toward McAlistair. “He has a pistol on him and a knife in his boot.”
Evie eyed the tall form on the gray mare and positively refused to acknowledge the heat that crept into her chest. “How could you possibly know that?”
Lizzy shrugged. “Don’t know why I notice these things. But the gun shows through his coat—see there? And he adjusted the knife before he and Mr. Hunter rode off this morning. I’ll wager you it’s not the only one.”
“I’d be a fool to take that bet.”
“You would, at that.” Lizzy shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I suppose you should be off.”
Mrs. Summers stepped up to join them. “She certainly should.”
Evie took in her demurely cut peach traveling gown. “Are you leaving today as well, Mrs. Summers?”
“I am.” She picked up a small valise and headed for the carriage. “I am to be your chaperone.”
Evie gave Lizzy a quick kiss and followed, fighting a smile. Her chaperone. Of course. A well-bred young lady wouldn’t think of making an escape from a life-threatening situation without a proper chaperone.
“Are you certain of this, Mrs. Summers?” Evie asked, picking up the blue skirts of her own gown—a smart and flattering piece she’d chosen with great care. “You’re putting yourself in grave danger. Terribly, terribly grave danger.”
Mrs. Summers came to a stop at the carriage door and turned to face her. “Terribly and grave are rather redundant, dear.”
“Yes, well.” Oh, blast, she was having too much fun, and it was beginning to show. “I only wish to be certain you fully understood the…the…er…”
“Danger?”
“Rather.”
Mrs. Summers gave a quick nod. “I do. You should know that Lady Thurston wished to come in my stead, but Whittaker put his foot down on the matter.”
Mr. Fletcher strode up to stand beside them. “As well he should have,” he snapped with surprising force. “As well should I where you’re concerned.”
“You did,” Mrs. Summers calmly reminded him as she stowed her valise inside the carriage. “But you are neither an earl, nor my son. I chose to ignore you.” She turned to Evie. “In you go, dear.”
Evie climbed into the carriage, settled herself in a seat, and turned around in time to witness Mr. Fletcher press a kiss to the back of Mrs. Summers’ hand.
“You will take care, Mary,” he ordered rather than asked. When she nodded silently, he lowered her hand and assisted her into the carriage, closing the door behind her. Then opened it again.
“And you as well, Evie.”
She smiled at him, touched by his concern for Mrs. Summers and amused that she should be an afterthought. “We’ll be fine, Mr. Fletcher.”
She’d wager every penny she had on it.
He nodded and shut the door.
“Close the curtains, dear,” Mrs. Summers advised when the carriage started forward with a soft lurch.
Evie reached over to pull at the material. “Do you mean to nap? You couldn’t have slept well last night.” She certainly hadn’t.
“A short nap sounds lovely, but we shall keep them shut for the duration of the trip.”
Evie felt her eyes widen. “The entire trip?”
“Better no one should see you.”
Oh, for heaven’s sake. She gritted her teeth to keep from arguing. It was such a lovely day, sunny and warm, and she found the idea of sitting in the dark for the whole of it distinctly unappetizing. But if she argued, she’d appear unconcerned for her own safety.
“May I at least peek?”
Mrs. Summers appeared to give the matter some thought. “Only when you’re certain there’s no one else on the road.”
Well there wasn’t anyone on it now. They hadn’t yet reached the end of the drive. She pushed the curtains back an inch and found McAlistair riding along on her side of the carriage. Determined not to think about him—again—she scooted across the cushions and looked out the other window, where she found Mr. Hunter riding alongside the carriage.