Brody enjoyed the open countryside, the fresh air, and a morning spent with the girl he loved. If they had stayed home, they would have had little privacy. Here, he could touch her when he wanted, and kiss her when she let him.
They sped through half of Shropshire with her tucked by his side—or, rather, with her face buried in his shoulder. Angelica didn’t like when they went too fast. Sometimes, he’d pull over at the crest of a hill, and shut off the engine just so she could catch her breath. He didn’t mind stopping to admire a pretty view of rolling hills and castle follies, and she’d lay in his lap, feeling the sun on her face. They’d talk if they felt like it, or sit in companionable silence if they didn’t.
For the day, at least, he couldn’t imagine anywhere he’d rather be.
“Where are we going after this?” she asked him, her cheek resting on his thigh.
Brody feared he might burst through his tweeds. “Home. It’s nearly time for luncheon.”
“No. I mean, after your sister’s party. You say we only need to make it through the week, but then what?”
“Honestly, I haven’t put that much thought into my plan. I’m more of a day-by-day type of chap, you see.” He laughed. “All my life, it’s been ‘get through this lesson’, or ‘just survive this last push’. Before you, I never thought beyond my next injection—that’s the problem with being an addict. We live for the moment, and to hell with the consequences.”
She sat up, frowning. “So we are, essentially, living by our wits?”
What a sight she was when she was cross! Watching her blue eyes flash was almost—almost—better than seeing her face in his lap. Strangely, both scenarios had the same effect on his pulse.
“It’s not quite that desperate, my girl. We can get a flat in Shrewsbury, if you’d like. There are plenty of parks and gardens, and it’s small enough that you could learn your way ‘round. I wouldn’t get in any trouble there.” He kissed the furrow in her brow. “It wouldn’t be like living in Birmingham, or Manchester, or even London.”
“Are you worried you’ll turn to the needle again?”
“I’d rather not tempt myself.”
“Maybe we ought to live in the country. There’d be no temptations there. We could live in my house…”
He nuzzled her neck. Even her softest touch could drive him senseless. “I thought we could go somewhere different for a change, like the sea, or the Continent. They say Paris is lovely in peacetime.”
“You want to run away…”
“Is that so wrong? We’ve both been locked up for too long—me in my morphine haze, and you in your solitude—we could use a change of scenery. Not permanently, mind you. But, at least, until we decide on something for the long-term.” When she didn’t say anything, he jostled her. “Come on, Angelica. Don’t you want to see the world?”
“I can’t see anything.” She laughed.
He laughed, too. “You know what I mean.”
“Alright, Brody. Let’s make it through your sister’s party, and then we’ll set off on some grand adventure. But I’m never going to give up my house. It’s my home.”
“I know, and I respect that. If you still feel the same way about it when we return from our travels, we’ll make it our home.”
Her bright smile wavered. “You’d do that for me?”
“I’d do anything for you, if you’d let me.”
Brody knew when he talked like that, it frightened her. It confused her. He didn’t mean to cause her any distress, but sometimes the words came out as if his heart had a mind of its own—and tended to forget that Angelica was his lover, nothing more. She was only there because he’d given her little choice. Forced to decide between the asylum, being prostituted by strangers, or becoming the mistress of a kind, yet misguided morphine addict, Angelica had naturally gone with the lesser of the three evils—or so he hoped.
There were times when Brody doubted the wisdom of both their decisions. He was having a difficulty drawing the line between being a lover to Angelica and loving Angelica. His mind and his body said one thing, while his heart screamed another. Whenever he let his guard down, his damned heart always seemed to win.
Wordlessly, Brody reached up to flip the various ignition switches. The big Bentley fired to life, and he took comfort in the steady rumble of the engine, and the purr from the exhaust. He liked cars. He liked driving them, and working on them—usually, after he drove them, he needed to work on them, because he seemed to burn through motorcars like other chaps went through hats or waistcoats. But with Angelica in the passenger seat, Brody knew better than to put her safety in jeopardy.
Oddly, with Angelica beside him, he thought twice about putting his own safety in jeopardy.