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he is going toward Belford?”
    Mr. Noke shook his head. “He has just come from there and is traveling west.” He paused, and when Verity looked at him questioningly, he did not meet her eyes. Finally, staring fixedly at the ground, he said, “From what I understand, he will be going right past Oakwood Manor.”
    “Then perhaps he might be willing to take me along,” Verity said, her spirits rising for the first time since she had arrived at the Crown and Thistle.
    Mr. Noke shuffled his feet and again looked everywhere but at her. “He does not strike me as the kind of man to be doing favors for strangers, and I could not be so presumptuous as to ask him.”
    Even while they were speaking, the London gentleman appeared in the doorway of the Crown and Thistle. About six feet tall with dark hair, he had broad shoulders made to appear even wider by the many-caped driv ing coat he wore. He was indeed a most intimidating figure, and Verity could well understand why the landlord was so reluctant to approach him.
    It was not only his size, but something about his expression, or perhaps his bearing, that made it obvious to her that he was a man accustomed to having his own way. Nothing about his appearance gave the slightest indication that someone could persuade him to do anything that he did not choose to do.
    On the other hand, there was no harm in trying. If there was the slightest possibility that she could get home for Christmas, Verity was prepared to be most presumptuous. After all, the worst the London gentleman could do would be to tell her no, and even if he snapped and snarled at her—which from the frown creasing his forehead he seemed likely to do—even then, she would be no worse off than she was now.
     
    Pausing in the doorway of the village inn, Gabriel could detect on the breeze not only the odor of wood smoke, but also the tangy smell of the sea, which lay only a mile or so to the east. For a brief moment he longed to feel a deck rising and falling beneath his feet, to hear again the creak of the masts, to feel once more the sting of salt spray on his cheeks.
    But in reality, December was not an auspicious time of the year for sailing on the North Sea, and Gabriel pushed such nostalgic thoughts out of his head and looked around for the landlord so he could pay his shot and be on his way across the Kyloe hills to his estate, which lay on the River Till near Crookham.
    The landlord was only a few yards away, and standing beside him was a woman, who was staring intently back at Gabriel. He had never seen her before, but dressed as she was for traveling, with a serviceable bonnet and gray cloak, and given the disastrous state of the landlord’s stables, it was not hard for Gabriel to surmise where her interest in him lay.
    Could he not escape importunate people even here in such a godforsaken village as this?
    It was typical of his recent luck that the stranded traveler was a woman. In her efforts to persuade him to assist her on her journey, she would doubtless drag out her whole bag of feminine tricks. First the fluttering eyelashes and the bashful smile, then if that failed to turn him up sweet, she would try sighs, tears, and a piteously trembling chin.
    He did not think he could stomach another such farce. He flipped the landlord a gold coin, which that m an caught with practiced dexterity. Then acting as if he had not noticed the stranger, Gabriel strode over to his carriage and climbed in, but the woman was not to be put off so easily.
    “Excuse me, sir, but I understand you are traveling west. I am stranded here with no means of getting a message to my family, and I would greatly appreciate it if you could take me as far as Oakwood Manor, which is only a little more than a mile beyond Barmoor.”
    Scowling in a way that reduced most supplicants for his favor to quivering wrecks, Gabriel looked down at the woman. She was neither young nor old, and quite plain.
    He felt mild surprise that she was not