Gabriel realized now that Phoebe's demeanor had been a very unnatural one for her. He should have suspected all was not well. But it had never occurred to him that she would run off like this in order to avoid marriage to him.

You are no different than Kilbourne.

She had run from him. The knowledge cut into Gabriel like a knife. He realized that for some reason he had come to believe that his feisty, outrageous Phoebe would never leave him.

She had made a terrible mistake. Phoebe acknowledged that before the stage had gone fifteen miles.

What an idiot she was. She was running away from the man she loved.

What did it matter that Gabriel did not yet love her? She had the remainder of the Season to devise a plan to teach him to love her. It would be her new quest.

The sudden, violent lurching of the coach and the startled shouts of the passengers interrupted her anxious thoughts.

"Broke a wheel, by God," the man with the gin flask announced. "That'll slow us down a bit."

As fat as Phoebe was concerned, the broken wheel was nothing less than an act of God. She had never been so grateful for a carriage accident in her life.

The crippled vehicle managed to make it to a nearby inn. Phoebe alighted from it along with the other passengers, collected her luggage, and made her way indoors.

She pushed her way through the crowd of passengers gathered in front of the innkeeper's desk and asked for a seat on the London stage.

"Won't be any seats available, ma'am," the innkeeper's wife said without any show of sympathy. "Sold all the tickets yesterday. I can sell you a seat on the ten o'clock stage tomorrow morning."

"But I must get back to London tonight," Phoebe said.

"You'll have to wait until tomorrow." The woman gave her a speculative look. "I've got a room I can give you for the night."

"No, thank you. I shall certainly not be spending the night here." Phoebe began to comprehend the true extent of the disaster. Her reputation was going to be ruined if anyone discovered that she had been obliged to spend the night alone in this inn.

She tugged her veil more firmly down over her face and limped into the inn's dining room for a bite to eat. She needed to think and she could not do that while she was starving.

She was aware that she was the object of several rude stares when she sat down at a table. Ladies traveling alone were always vulnerable to that sort of thing. It would get a lot worse once night fell.

She wondered if Gabriel had been informed that she had run off. The thought drove her further into her gloomy mood. If he found out she had left Town, he might simply wash his hands of her entirely.

She had to get back before he discovered she was missing. What an idiotic impulse this had all been. Perhaps she could throw herself on the mercy of some family traveling to London by private coach. Assuming such a family chose to stop for a rest at this inn. But that would mean revealing her true identity. She dared not do that.

Phoebe's sense of desperation grew rapidly. She had to find a way out of this tangle. She covertly studied the other people in the tavern, wondering if any of them might provide assistance. Surely some of them were on their way to London. She might be able to buy a ticket for double or triple the price.

At that moment an odd little sensation rippled through her. She glanced around quickly and was stunned to see Gabriel striding through the door of the dining room.

Gabriel was here.

A rush of joyous relief swept over Phoebe. He had come after her. Hard on the heels of that thought came the realization that he had never looked more dangerous. His face was as forbidding as a hawk's and his eyes were chips of green ice. He stood still for a moment and surveyed the crowded room.

Phoebe's stomach fluttered. This was no gallant lover who had ridden in pursuit of his beloved in hopes of convincing her to return to him. Gabriel definitely did not look as if he were in a mood to declare undying love and devotion.

For an instant Phoebe sat frozen, caught between an impulse to throw herself into his arms and an equally strong urge to flee. In that split second of indecision, Gabriel's eyes came to rest unerringly on her veiled face.

He appeared to recognize her instantly. Perhaps it was because of her vivid violet traveling gown. He walked straight toward her, his mud-spattered boots loud on the wooden floor. Several heads turned curiously as he went past. Gabriel looked neither to the right nor to the left. His gaze never left Phoebe.

By the time he reached her table, she hardly dared breathe.

"I'm disappointed in you, Phoebe," Gabriel said without any inflection. "It's not like you to run away from a problem. You generally stand your ground and fight."

It was too much. Phoebe leaped to her feet as rage poured through her. "I was not running away. As a matter of fact, I am waiting for the next stage back to London."

Gabriel's brows rose. "Is that so?"

"Yes, it is. You may check with the innkeeper's wife, if you do not believe me. She will tell you that I attempted to purchase a ticket."

"Attempted?"

"It was not my fault that there was no seat available on the next stage," Phoebe snapped. "I was planning to purchase someone else's ticket."

"I see." Gabriel's voice warmed a few degrees. His eyes lost their hard glitter. "Well, it does not matter whether or not there is a seat available. You will not be needing one."

She eyed him warily. "Why not?"

"You will not be using public transport." Gabriel took her arm.

"You are going to drive me back to London?"

"No, madam. I am going to take you home with me."

"Home?" Her eyes widened behind her veil. "You mean to your home?"

"Yes." His eyes softened almost imperceptibly. "I have a special license with me, Phoebe. We shall be married at once. By the time we reach Devil's Mist, you will be my wife."

"Oh, dear," she whispered. "I'm not at all certain that is a sound notion, my lord."

"Do you believe you can keep this day's events quiet?"

She looked up at him out of the corner of her eye as he led her out of the public room. "I've been thinking about this, my lord. I believe that if we are very cautious we might be able to sneak safely back to Town."

"Phoebe, allow me to tell you that you do not know the meaning of the word cautious. Nor is there any reason to delay the marriage in the hopes that you will talk me out of it. The notices have already appeared in the morning papers. There is no escape for either of us now. We may as well take care of the matter at once."

Phoebe winced. "You are quite certain you wish to marry me, Wylde?"

"Yes."

She took hold of her courage with both hands. "Because you love me?"

Gabriel scowled and glanced meaningfully around the crowded inn lobby. "For God's sake, madam, this is hardly the time or place to discuss such matters. Wait here while I see to the horses and your luggage. You do have luggage with you, I presume?"

Phoebe sighed. "Yes, my lord. I have luggage with me."

There was something not quite real about the rest of that day. At times Phoebe was convinced she was dreaming. At other moments she would find herself filled with a strange, hopeful excitement.

She became Gabriel's wife in a short, hurried ceremony that lacked any semblance of romantic trappings. Once Gabriel had produced the special license, the village parson was interested only in his fee.

A strange, uneasy silence descended afterward as Gabriel handed Phoebe up into his phaeton. He vaulted up onto the seat beside her and picked up the reins.

Phoebe kept reminding herself that this was her wedding day and that she had just married the man she loved, but she could not bring herself to believe it.