Artful Deceptions (12 page)

“I’ll go after her myself. I only sought your father as a representative of the family to save Melanie from idle talk. But since I mean to marry her anyway,
it
makes no difference. We’ll send word when we return.”

Arianne disregarded the pain caused by his casual words. Knowing her cousin as she did, she feared there was much to lose if Locke were allowed to act with the same rashness as Melanie. Daringly catching his coat sleeve, she forced him to a halt.

“I don’t suppose
you have considered whether or not Melanie will be appreciative of your rescue if it means marrying you against her choice?”

Locke halted and stared down into eyes of dark blue. Like the lochs of Scotland, they seemed bottomless, and he gritted his teeth in annoyance for being held by them. “I believe I have made my intentions clear, and she does not seem averse to them. I can see no other choice. She can’t be allowed to travel that distance alone.”

“She cannot have been gone long. She was here only just this morning. If she took the coach, your phaeton will be swifter. We will catch up to her before nightfall, and none will know the difference.”

Locke gave her a look of impatience. “Your father would know the difference when he learns we have traveled together without proper accompaniment. I cannot marry both of you. Do be reasonable, Miss Richards.”

“He need never know. I will tell my mother you are taking me to the Griffins’. Evan’s coach can return me later. The only obstacle I can see is trying to persuade Melanie to turn her coach around and come home.”

Grimly Galen pondered the truth of her words. He had been hasty in telling Evan he could manage this. He had little or no experience at persuading stubborn females from a course they were determined on taking. But Melanie would listen to Arianne if she would listen to anyone. Without really meaning to do so, he nodded.

Chapter Nine

Arianne tried not to clutch nervously at the phaeton’s seat as Galen wheeled sharply to pass a farmer and his barrow. With his attention entirely on his horse, her companion took little notice of her discomfort, but she had no notion of complaining. Actually, she was a trifle startled that Lord Locke had allowed her to come with him. She had briefly entertained ideas of abducting one of Evan’s vehicles and racing after Melanie herself, but she knew she would never have been able to carry out such a feather-brained scheme. Grateful that she had not been placed in such a position, she held on to her hat and prayed.

Beside her, Galen was more aware of his traveling companion than she knew, but more for her lack of presence than otherwise. She allowed him to concentrate on making the best time through busy city streets and over rutted country roads, without a complaint to the damage his recklessness caused to her attire or a whisper of a need to stop for food or drink or any other foolishness. She was so silent, he had to occasionally glance to the side to be certain he had not lost her in the road somewhere. She was not like any female he had ever known, but now wasn’t the time to investigate that oddity. He would offer his appreciation when he caught up with her willful cousin.

Thoughts of Melanie kept Galen occupied at any moment when his horses did not. She was little more than a child wandering alone in the wilderness. Even with her brother’s most reliable driver and footman, she was little better than unprotected. The stretch of road they had just left behind was notorious for its thieves, and the servants couldn’t be trusted to know the right inns when darkness descended. Whatever had possessed her to do such a hare-brained thing as to race after Rhys on her own?

Galen didn’t bother contemplating Evan’s words. Despite being declared a bastard in the eyes of the world and having to live on what his wits provided, Rhys was a gentleman. He would never risk Melanie’s future and happiness by seriously considering her as a wife. There had been no indication that he did so. Sending another quick glance to the woman beside him, Galen wondered if Rhys had not fixed his interest in that quarter. The match would be eminently suitable on both sides. Perhaps that was why Melanie was so concerned: she was worried that something had happened to her cousin’s only suitor.

That made about as little sense as anything else that had happened these past weeks. Reaching a straight open stretch before the next town, Galen broke the extended silence between them. “Do you have any notion why Melanie is so set on finding Rhys?”

Arianne tried to hide her alarm at the phaeton’s speed and to appear as calm as he. He had discarded his hat earlier, and now his blond hair blew waywardly in the breeze. Combined with his unfashionably large size straining against the polished superfine of his coat and the cravat loosened by his activity, he lost some of the loftiness that had held them apart. Still, no one could mistake him as anything but a peer of the realm.

“You are the one intending to wed her. I should think you should know more of her mind than I. She had some absurd notion that Lord Llewellyn would do away with Rhys should he uncover the true secret of his birth. Evan really ought to keep those terrible gothics out of her hands.”

Galen grunted in agreement and skillfully guided the team around a large hole in the road’s surface. The sun was sinking rapidly, and they had yet to discover anyone who had seen Melanie’s carriage. That was to be expected out here, he supposed, but surely in the next town they would find some evidence that she had traveled this way.

“I am beginning to wonder if she has not had more sense than we. At least she is traveling in a comfortably sprung carriage with servants around her. I should never have allowed you along, Miss Richards. I apologize for my lapse in sense, although it is rather late to do anything about it.”

“I would not have allowed you to go without me, so there is no need for apology. Comfortably sprung carriages are as strange to me as this contraption. My only concern is that Melanie come to no harm. We have been cousins and best friends for the better part of our lives. Discomfort does not rank anywhere in my mind under those conditions.”

“Your attitude does you credit, but I fear society is not so high-minded. I shall endeavor to keep this part of our little escapade from gossiping tongues. I do not know what there is between you and Llewellyn, but I’ll not risk his calling me out over our impropriety. He’s a deuced good shot.”

Midnight eyes lifted to regard him quizzically from beneath the preposterous bonnet. “If there is any impropriety, I daresay you have more to fear from my shooting you than Mr. Llewellyn. Keep your mind on your horses, my lord.”

Galen laughed out loud at the way she had twisted his words. It was better to laugh than to worry. At least laughing made the time pass faster.

They sped along companionably after that, Galen occasionally warning his companion to hold on to her seat when they approached a particularly rough stretch, and offering her his coat when the wind grew chilly. But spying the lights of an inn ahead, Arianne refused his offer. Undoubtedly it would have been too early to stop when Melanie reached this place, but perhaps someone within had seen her. She desperately needed the reassurance that they were on the right road.

Galen swung into the stableyard and gave a sharp whistle as he noted the polished carriage tilting precariously on its back axle in front of them. No sign of driver or occupants appeared, and it was obvious that it had been abandoned sometime earlier. It was equally obvious from the discreet crest on the door to whom it belonged.

“Luck is with us, if not with your cousin, Miss Richards. If I do not mistake, that is Shelce’s crest. We have found her.”

In the twilight, one carriage looked much the same as another, but Arianne agreed it looked like they had discovered their goal. She waited impatiently for Galen to speak with the ostler and come around to help her down. She threw a glance to the bright lights of the inn and prayed it was a decent abode. Surely traveling with maid and footman, Melanie would be safe for these few hours she had been here.

Galen’s strength as he lifted her down surprised her. She was not small, but he caught her up with an ease that made her gasp, not giving her time to descend gracefully. Arianne understood Locke’s impatient energy had been held in check too long, but she still quivered where his hands had so possessively circled her waist, even after she was on the ground and hurrying beside him.

The inn was so constructed that they had to enter through the main room, where travelers sat and dined and warmed themselves before the fire. Heads turned as they entered, and Arianne wished she had not cut off the long bill of her bonnet. She felt exposed to their stares, and pulled her mother’s old shawl more tightly around her. Galen impatiently scanned the crowd, then tugged her along after him in search of the innkeeper.

Arianne was never more grateful for a man’s presence. In the sheltered world from which she came, she had never felt fear or had any need to doubt her surroundings. She knew which streets to walk and when, and trusted in the goodness of the people around her, people she had known since childhood. The occasional drunk staggering from a tavern was easily escaped by crossing the street. Here, in this room, escape did not seem so easy, and all the faces were unfamiliar to her. She thought she read hostility in the expressions of some, and even the avid curiosity on the faces of others made her uneasy. She held to Lord Locke’s strong arm and concentrated on crossing the room without tripping over her skirt or other people’s feet.

Faced with Locke’s overwhelming size and intent expression, no one interfered with their progress, and most returned to their eating and drinking as the proprietor appeared to offer accommodations to their noble guest. A shrewd judge of clothing, he instantly classified Locke as a wealthy and aristocratic prospect, but his eyebrows lifted slightly at the sight of the commonly gowned female on his arm. The woman didn’t wear the appearance of a painted dolly, nor did she have the lovely wiles of a poor girl about to join their numbers.

Frowning, he halted their progress at the doorway to the hall. “We’re all filled up for the night, my lord. This is a respectable place, it is. You’ll have to go on to London for your dirty deeds.”

Arianne gasped at this rudeness; then realizing what the man thought, sent a startled glance to Lord Locke, who did not seem to see the humor of it. With a curt wave of his hand he dismissed the man’s
faux pas.

“We’ll be returning there at once, as soon as you direct us to the room of Lady Melanie Griffin. Her carriage has had a mishap, it appears.”

The innkeeper brightened at once. “That is most remarkable that word has traveled so fast. I would not have thought there would have been time for a messenger to reach her family. Do come in, my lord. The lady had hoped to find a blacksmith in the morning, but I’m certain she will be delighted to know that help has arrived so swiftly.”

He led them through a dim hall smoking with tallow lamps, to the door of one of his private parlors. Knocking discreetly, he threw open the door to reveal the firelit chamber beyond.

Melanie sat curled upon a small sofa, reading a tiny volume form the Minerva Press, her maid nowhere in sight. At the abrupt intrusion, she looked up inquisitively, then jumped to her feet with an exclamation at the sight of both Galen and Arianne in the doorway.

“Oh, my goodness, never say the two of you are eloping! That would be the height of foolishness.” She grinned as she said it, eyes dancing with devilment at the expression on her visitors’ faces. Arianne’s humor surfaced faster than Galen’s; he continued to stare at her as if she were a peculiar bug on the wall.

“Cousin, you are not just a Feather-Headed Peahen, but a Fowl Goose of the worst sort. I shall recommend that Evan send you to your room with naught but bread and water for this. Do you have any idea what it is like to careen along at the not-so-gentle hands of this speed fiend? I shall ache in every bone in my body on the morrow.”

Melanie’s sympathetic look died quickly with the chastisement from Galen that followed. “Do you have any idea how you have frightened your family? Consider what you have done to your sister-in-law in her delicate condition. She is no doubt fretting the night away, waiting for your return. I had thought you possessed more sense than that.”

Instead of looking suitably abject, Melanie turned to Arianne with guileless surprise. “He is angry with me! I never thought to see the day. Do you think he has other humors too? Do you think if I cried it would make him sad?”

Arianne pressed her lips together to keep from chuckling at her irrepressible cousin’s good cheer. The same might be said for Melanie’s character as for Galen’s. She seldom expressed anger or ill humor or sadness. It was as if the two of them led a charmed life outside the world of woe they lived in. Part of their charm was that they were willing to share their happiness with everyone. Unfortunately, Lord Locke’s charm had worn distressingly thin these last hours.

Before he could say something biting that would ruin his chances with Melanie, Arianne put a warning hand to his coat sleeve. “I daresay there are other things to worry about besides whether Melanie knows how to cry, my lord. With her carriage incapacitated, our hasty return is out of the question.”

Gaining control of his temper, Galen gave a curt nod at Arianne’s reminder of their position. It was a good thing one of them had his feet firmly on the ground, although she seemed to take the situation much more lightly than he deemed proper. Bowing, he excused himself. “I’ll make inquiries about repairs, and order a supper sent in, Miss Richards.”

Melanie drew a prim face and wrinkled her nose after Galen departed. “Now I suppose he’ll not speak to me. Men are quite the most irritating creatures.” She turned her attention on her cousin. “I’m sorry that you had to suffer such discomfort on my account, Rainy. You really did not need to come after me, you know.”

Arianne didn’t feel qualified to speak on the reason she had thought it necessary to cool Lord Locke’s rashness. Instead, she removed her shawl and bonnet in the room’s warmth and sank gratefully to the comforts of the padded sofa. “And you really do not have to be such a goose, cousin, but you are. Did you really think Evan would let you travel all alone to the north country?”