Free Exile's Return by Alison Stuart

more than that she was bound in blood to the fate of Lizzie and Henry. Somehow, she had to find her way to Charvaley. Maybe, away from his masters in London, Tobias could be persuaded to let her stay.
    She took a deep, steadying breath. She had to be realistic. She didn’t know the way to Tobias’s better nature, or even if he had a better nature. She could be of no assistance when it came to the location of the gold, but, what was it he had said? “… You’ve a pretty face. By all accounts you have already bedded an Earl. It shouldn’t be too hard to find yourself another protector …”
    What if Tobias Ashby himself would be prepared to be her protector? What if she swallowed what little pride she had left and afforded him the opportunity? The very thought of him touching her made the gorge rise in her throat and she retched port into the slops bucket.
    Wiping her face with a cold, wet cloth, she sat back on her heels and considered her current situation. Alone, penniless, and friendless, she stood little chance of making it out of London, let alone as far as Charvaley.
    She glanced at the door to her room. She already had a protector waiting for her in the parlour downstairs. Could he be persuaded to provide her with the means to get there? When it came to feminine wiles, she had no tricks. She had always considered herself rather plain, and James had never once told her otherwise. Her mere presence at his table had been all the invitation he had ever needed.
    Rising to her feet, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window and wondered how one threw oneself on the mercy of a total stranger looking like she did at this moment. She had been wearing her best gown to attend on the Committee and now it was covered in mud and worse.
    She gave a bitter laugh. No man would want her looking as she did. Her fingers touched the locket and she wondered if Lucas would buy it from her. If not, she had no choice but to seek out a gold dealer in the morning and sell it for whatever she could raise.
    She changed into clean petticoats and a respectable bodice with fresh collar and cuffs and arranged her disordered curls as best she could, washed her face again, pinched her cheeks to force some colour into her wan face, and forced herself to smile.
    Drawing herself up straight she left the bedchamber, now so silent and empty without the children, and made her way back to the inn’s parlour.
    Lucas — she couldn’t remember if he had told her his first name — waited for her as he said he would. He rose to his feet in a single, lithe movement and gestured at the chair across the table from him.
    For a moment her nerve failed her. How could she even think about throwing herself on the mercy of a man she knew nothing about?
    She supposed some women might find him handsome, with his brown hair, dark tanned face and high cheekbones. James had been fair and, to be honest, softer. In fact he had been starting to go to fat, not that she would have ever said anything to him. She found the hard planes of Lucas’s face and the strong mouth more than a little intimidating, and Henry was right, the scar did make him look piratical.
    Outwardly though, his clothes were those of any respectable man of business. His jacket of good quality dark blue wool had been well cut in the latest fashion to set off his long, lean body. He wore the more fashionable falling bands in place of a collar and expensive lace trimmed the froth of cloth at his wrists. A man who took some pride in his appearance and had the means to purchase the best.
    His grey eyes rested on her face. Something in those light depths, the colour of an icy stream, made her shiver.
    Just as she considered making her apologies and fleeing to the safety of the bedchamber, he smiled, softening the cold eyes and curling those well-cut lips. Small lines creased the corners of his eyes and her moment of doubt vanished.
    â€˜Do I meet with your