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has thrown a shoe.”
    He lifted his horse’s hoof, studying it for a long moment, then he stared off into the distance. “London’s gates won’t be open to travelers for another half-hour or so. I wouldn’t want Ebony going that far at any rate.”
    “We passed a small row of cottages not three minutes ago, Garrett,” Ashby pointed out. “I believe there was a smith’s stand.”
    “Then we will make our way back slowly.” Garrett motioned to their fellow traveler. “Lady Montayne, might you be so gracious as to ride with Sir Ashby? I’d like to keep any weight off Ebony’s back till he’s been properly attended.”
    Her face brightened. “I would be happy to comply, my lord, but I would rather enjoy the chance to stretch my own legs, as well.”
    Before she slid off the saddle, Garrett was there. His hands closed about her slender waist, lifting her easily.
    Her feet touched the ground and she met his eyes. “Thank you,” she said meekly.
    His hands rested around her waist a moment longer than necessary before he dropped them to his side and turned to take Ebony’s reins. He picked up his cloak, slinging it across the saddle.
    Ashby dismounted, too, and the party walked slowly, stiff from their many hours in the saddle. Light was beginning to ease upward, erasing the stars that had been scattered across the sky. A few birds began calling to one another, singing in the new day at hand.
    A brisk wind rose as they continued onward. Madeleine watched Garrett reach for the cloak. He draped the heavy fabric around her shoulders and then tightened the laces to secure the welcome warmth around her neck.
    She’d become unaccustomed to kindnesses and lowered her eyes to avoid his gaze. “’Tis thoughtful of you, Sir Garrett,” she managed to say quietly and turned her head away to wipe a tear before it fell. She knew he studied her intently and refused to meet his eye, focusing instead on the road ahead.
    They walked in companionable silence for a short while, soon reaching a small gathering of cottages. As Ashby had said, a blacksmith shed sat directly next to a shabby cottage.
    “I’ll awaken the smith,” Ashby told them and sauntered off to knock at the door.
    Within minutes, they roused the smith from his sleep. He appeared quite agreeable to be able service well—dressed gentlemen at such early notice. As they led their horses toward the shed, Madeleine touched Sir Garrett’s arm lightly.
    “I fear at any moment my stomach will grumble fiercely, my lord,” she whispered. “Mayhap we could break our fast? This smith’s wife might be persuaded to prepare us something.”
    “A fine idea, Lady Montayne.” Garrett fished out two coins and handed them to her. “Offer these to the good woman, and I’ll wager she can accommodate us in no time.”
    “Yes, my lord. I shall take care of personal matters and then speak to her straight away.” Madeleine scanned the area, plotting for a way to get out of this impossible situation.
    She could not accompany these men into London. With no idea where the Montaynes lived, she could not direct them. And even if she pointed out a residence and tried to shake them off, good manners would insist that these gentlemen see her safely inside the abode.
    Madeleine hobbled toward the cottage as Garrett made his way to the shed. She didn’t take time to rap on the wooden door. Instead, she opened it and quickly slipped inside. She needed as much time as possible to put her scheme into action.
    The smith’s wife was bent over, stirring the fire on the opposite side of the compact room. She started when she caught sight of Madeleine.
    Before the older woman could address her, Madeleine crossed the distance between them and took the woman’s gnarled hand in her own. Her eyes met those of the peasant and she blurted out, “You must help me. Please,” she begged. “I have been taken from my father’s house.” Madeleine burst into tears as she began to spin a new set of