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glared at Ewan’s head. She’d learned French and some Latin, but none of the guttural language of the Scots. Her fingers twitched to blow some dust in his face, but she intertwined them helplessly in her lap. If he suspected her of breaking her promise, he might very well leave her in the road. And she needed his help.
    “So… what am I to call myself when we reach London?” she asked, throwing her voice forward so Ewan could hear her over the wagon wheels.
    “Do ye want to be known as the Mereworth Wellington heiress?” He didn’t turn to meet her gaze. Irksome. If he talked to her, he should look at her.
    “Do I appear to be an heiress?” She smiled, her heart thumping a little harder as he turned to assess her. She couldn’t help but sit up straight and tilt her nose in the air for show.
    “Perhaps after a bath and a change of costume.”
    “Well of course,” she snapped and batted at her hair where it curled in wild knots around her face. “I bathe daily on board ship but water is harder to come by when landlocked. If we could stop at a town to purchase a few items, I would fit in much better at court.”
    Ewan turned fully around, walking backward with the horses. “We may not be able to get into Hampton Court.”
    “Isn’t that where you are going with rotting Papa?”
    He shook his head at her comment and Searc chuckled.
    “Just to drop him off with the letters proving he was a traitor.”
    She raised her eyebrows. “From what I’ve heard from the ladies in Swindon, when you go to court for anything, expect to stay for at least a fortnight before you can present to the king.”
    “Bloody hell,” Ewan cursed. “I will put ye up at an inn in town. No need to purchase court clothing.”
    She scooped up the stretching tabby and settled her into her lap. “I have my own moneys.” Since she was Boswell’s surviving child, his gold was her gold. She’d helped herself to the contents of a small wall safe she’d found and plundered the third night at Rosewood after the townspeople told her his servants had deserted. It would buy fabric but wasn’t nearly enough to buy the freedom of two men in the Tower.
    “It is safer for ye to stay away from court.” He turned back and clicked to the two horses to get them moving again. The large one he called Gaoth shook his head and snorted. Ewan spoke softly to him and stroked his neck.
    “But there I’d have a better chance of discovering a way to release Captain Bart and Will.” She nodded to emphasize her point and huffed in frustration at his back. “I’m going with you to court.”
    When Ewan didn’t reply she turned to Searc. “He is beyond stubborn.”
    “A good match,” Searc replied with a lopsided grin.
    She glared at him. “A good match for whom? Not I. A farmer’s donkey, perhaps.”
    Another hour rattled by and Ewan led the horses off the road and into a small meadow dotted with cornflowers and buttercups. “I need to water the horses. We’ll stop here to eat before heading into the next village.”
    “Where I can purchase a few undergarments and cloth.”
    “Do ye plan to store the cloth next to Boswell?” Ewan asked. “His taint will certainly ruin it.”
    Dory climbed down and raised her arms over head to stretch. She wasn’t used to such inactivity. On board ship, every member of the crew scurried and climbed the rigging and kept the ropes and equipment in pristine order. She bent over and touched the ground with her palms, stifling a groan at her stiff muscles. When she straightened, both men stared at her.
    “I suppose I will wait to purchase cloth then. But I need at least a change of costume.” She indicated her torn and sooty dress.
    “If ye must,” Ewan said and turned back to untethering the horses. “Perhaps ye should keep the name Rebecca Mereworth Wellington a secret until we find out the standing of both sides of yer family.”
    Dory heard the stream, and followed him and the horses through the sunny, open