She swallowed the anger that threatened to choke her. “Is it your business if I wish to return to the train? I am not your servant to treat as you wish.”

A smile flitted across the arrogant face, and Philomena blushed under such scrutiny and disdain. She was even less than a servant. She was a vagabond: nobody. Anger dissolved into despair. In a moment of clarity, she saw herself through Lord Thatcham’s eyes. He had rescued a waif from disaster and provided food and shelter, yet she was behaving just like one of the street urchins.

“Indeed, I’m grateful to you for rescuing me,” she gabbled, hardly aware of the jumbled words that fell from her lips into the silence. “I’m glad you rescued Betsy and her mother, though I’m sure I never met them before last night, and they’re no business of mine, and I’m obliged to you for helping me, but I have to go now and… Oh, I don’t know what I’m to do…” Her words made no sense. As the heat of anger ebbed away, hot tears of weariness and fear threatened to overwhelm Philomena. She gasped and dashed a single tear from her cheek, struggling for control. Perhaps he had not noticed. She glanced up.

The silence lingered. Lord Thatcham’s smile faded, leaving his face stern, the lines from nose to mouth more deeply etched. He looked suddenly older. He frowned. The horse snorted and pawed the ground.

Philomena’s breathing slowed. She turned, glancing along the path towards the road. She should just run away—run until she was too tired to think. She should forget all about the accident and this man with grey eyes. Perhaps she should have stayed in London after all. Her shoulders slumped.

Lord Thatcham swung his right leg over his saddle and dismounted, landing lightly beside her. She blinked. She would not cry. He stretched out a hand and rested it on her shoulder. It warmed her skin through the cotton shirt, for Joseph’s jacket lay abandoned in a heap on the kitchen floor. She shivered and gulped, turning away to hide unshed tears.

“Now,” he said, suddenly kind. “Explain why you’re in such a hurry to get away, and we’ll see what can be done.”

Her cheeks flamed. She hung her head.

“Look at me.” He turned her round. “What do you seek to escape?” The words struck near the mark. Her head jerked up. “Ah,” he breathed. He dropped his hand. “I thought as much. Take care what you say.” He leaned away to stroke Thunder’s nose, speaking quietly over his shoulder. “I would not want to be obliged to take action against you. Boys will be boys, of course, but I have responsibilities as a magistrate and must uphold the law. If you have committed a crime, you must be prepared to face the consequences.”

He turned back. “If there is some other difficulty, however?” He smiled. “If there is the matter of some debt, for example, that you hope to escape, do not be afraid to say so. Your adventures last night have entitled you to some leniency. “