He looked at her. She actually thought he would… “Don’t be daft.” He glowered at her. “I can’t leave you like this, in your captors’ hands, and simply drive away.”

He studied her, wondered how much she weighed, wondered if he dared risk-

She must have sensed the assessment in his gaze; she straightened, took a step back, and leveled a finger at his nose. “Don’t even think of grabbing me and hauling me away-not now, not ever. I’ll scream bloody murder if you so much as lay a finger on me.”

Wonderful. He narrowed his eyes at her, but he knew her well enough to know her threat was not an idle one.

She seemed to realize he’d accepted that. Her stance softened. “So if you would take a message-”

“I’ve already sent your coachman back with a message for your father, telling him you’re being driven up the Great North Road in a coach, and that I’m following. I suspect that if they don’t hear from us within a day, your cousins will start tracking us.”

Folding her arms, she frowned at him. After a moment, she inquired, “Does that mean you intend to follow me onward?”

“Yes.” He spoke-whispered-through clenched teeth. “Naturally. I could hardly let you be taken God knows where.”

“Hmm.” Her gaze on him, she seemed to ponder, then offered, “All right. Here’s what I’m planning to do. I’ll interrogate and extract everything I can about their employer, his orders, and his motives from Fletcher, Cobbins, and Martha, enough at least to determine what the threat to my sisters and cousins might be. Then I’ll escape. If you’re still close, you can help me.”

She paused, her eyes on his, clearly waiting for his response.

He knew what he felt like saying, but… she had to come with him willingly, and Stubborn was her middle name. “Very well.” The words were an effort. He considered, then said, “I’ll send word back to London, then follow the coach onward, staying close.” He met her gaze, his own ungiving.