She raised her brows. “Surely you had more reason than that?”

“No. They would try to talk me out of it, but—” He stopped, a bleak expression resting on his face. “I’ve caused enough havoc in their lives as it is. In order to make things right, I must leave.”

Harriet suddenly realized that she’d seen that desolate expression before, that it visited him often, even beneath his usual blithe smile. The expression caught at her heart, for she didn’t think she’d ever seen so much pain on one face. “Make things right?” Her voice softened. “What did you do that was so wrong?”

He shook his head, his expression shuttered once again. “You don’t need to know more.”

But she did. “You were right in thinking that your real identity would have been gossiped about far and wide. Sticklye-By-The-River is a small village and everyone knows everyone else’s business far more than they should.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said dryly, no doubt thinking of the parade of visitors who came every evening to meet the “captain.”

“And since we’re located on the post road, everything that happens here is heard for miles around.” She tilted her head to one side, regarding him steadily. “I can’t imagine there are many crimes that are so severe that would require you to leave the country to make amends.”

Hard white lines appeared down both sides of his mouth. “I will not tell you more.”

That was certainly blunt. “Perhaps you owe a great deal of money?”

He didn’t answer.

“Or mayhap a woman is involved…”

“No.” His gaze became flint bright. “I’m not going to answer any more questions, so don’t ask.”

He was being rather rude, but then so was she, prying into his personal business. “Where were you going?”

“Away. Perhaps to Italy.”

She tsked. “You don’t seem to have a very specific strategy, which means you would have failed. If you wish to accomplish something, then you need a plan of action.”

He let his breath out in a hiss. “Look, Harriet. I had a plan of action—to get out of the country as quickly and quietly as possible. That was all the plan I needed.”

She gestured around them. “Does this look like Italy to you?”

“I was waylaid by thieves or I would be there now.”

“I can see why you stayed at first—your injuries. But later? Mr. St. John, why are you here now?” She didn’t know what she was looking for—what she wanted to hear. But for some reason, she was holding her breath, waiting for his answer.

His jaw tightened. “You and your family have a lot riding on this venture with the sheep and I thought, since I didn’t have anything better to do, that I’d stay for a day or two.”

“And then you were going to disappear.” It wasn’t a question. She knew his intentions as plainly as if he’d spoken them aloud. “You don’t want to leave England, do you?”

His gaze went past her, to the gently rolling hills and the sway of the green grass. “No.”