Chasing the Heiress (14 page)

Unlike the weathered carriage he had borrowed to transport Marietta, Aidan's ducal carriage was made for comfort. Thick cushioned pads for the seats and backs of an extra depth accommodated his brother's long limbs. Aidan had even had a cushioned box made to fit the space between the seats, ostensibly to aid in playing cards on the road. Colin positioned it in the well in front of him, against the far door, converting his portion of the carriage into a chaise longue. Colin suspected (and hoped to test his theory with Lucy) that the box could serve a more erotic purpose.

It was a shame, in fact, that the wet nurse couldn't ride in a separate carriage with the infant. What was the use of a long carriage ride if one couldn't make the hours pass discovering the pleasures of Lucy's body as he had already discovered the pleasures of her mind? Her kisses delighted him like nothing else. His obsession with her made little sense, but then so little had for so long.

And a woman who had made love in the camps would appreciate the richly cushioned privacy of the ducal carriage. He wished he had known her then, in the camps, wished he could have competed with her fiancé for her affections. He imagined her in her sober blue dress meeting him for a tryst during one of the endless sieges. Imagined kissing away her fears as he took his leave to complete a mission or to fight in an engagement.

But his reverie took a sober turn.
Had
he known her fiancé? Had they fought alongside one another? Was he one of the men whose passing Colin had mourned? A man whose body Colin had helped to bury? He offered up a promise to a fallen brother in arms.
Whatever happens between us, I won't let her return to being a scullery maid. When we part, if we part, she will be well cared for.

“Oh, la. Look at this.” Jennie peered into the carriage with awe. Dressed as a field hand, with a smock top and full gathered pants, Jennie had tied her hair up under a straw hat. “I only rode in a carriage once, but then I sat on the outside back on top of the luggage. But this time . . . to be inside . . .” She turned away, and Colin lost the end of her sentence.

A moment later, Seth handed Lucy into the carriage, and Colin patted the seat beside him. But Lucy chose instead the backward-facing seat. He raised his eyebrow in question.

“As your nurse, I need to be able to watch you, to see when you tire . . .” Lucy began to explain.

“Here, Lucy.” Seth held out the baby's rush basket. Lucy placed the rush basket on the forward-facing seat to Colin's right.

Colin kept himself pulled into the opposite corner, at a distance from the babe.

“I'm not convinced traveling so soon and with so little protection is the best solution.” Aidan stood outside the open window beside Colin's door, wearing his least ducal clothing. “But it is your mission, not mine. I still believe you should accept more help.”

Colin bristled slightly. “I have already accepted a great deal more help than I think would please Prinny. And as you said yourself earlier, it's a good plan.”

“Of course it is.” Sophia, wearing a drab servant's dress, joined them and opened the door to offer Colin a proper goodbye. “Your brother simply wishes he could do more.”

“I will send you news as I find it.” Aidan put his hand on Colin's shoulder, and Colin covered his hand with his own.

“Can three play this game?” Seth patted Colin's knee. “Don't die, brother. Aidan will never forgive me for siding with you, if you do.” Seth closed the door, then called back through the window. “And, Lucy, remember: you can always call on me when you tire of his moods.”

Colin rolled the glass window up, while Lucy laughed.

Chapter Eleven

A mile from the tavern, in a secluded portion of road, Fletcher pulled the carriage to a stop, allowing Jennie to move inside the carriage. Jennie hopped in quickly, then pulled the basket into her side and peeked below the cloth covering the baby from view. “'E's sleepin',” she said with satisfaction. Any name they gave the infant would be only temporary, so they had told Jennie to pick a name she found appealing. Jennie had tried a dozen and rejected them before she decided on Sweet William, the name of her favorite flower.

“Well, I have somewhat 'ere to pass the time.” Jennie fidgeted herself into a comfortable position before reaching into her knitting bag. Instead of the thick wool she had been knitting before, she produced three issues of the
Lady's Magazine
. “Any time a lodger leaves magazines, Nell lets me have 'em.”

Colin stiffened and drew himself in more tightly. He said nothing, but from the look of pained recognition that passed fleetingly across his face, Lucy assumed the magazines must have been Marietta's.

“My lord, would you read to us?” Jennie turned to a page marked near the back of one. “Even though it's a magazine for ladies, there is natural science and history and . . .”

“You wouldn't happen to have a
Sporting Magazine
in there would you?”

Jennie looked stricken. “None of the lodgers ever leaves those.”

“I wonder why!” Lucy hoped to lighten Colin's mood. “Do you think sportsmen can't actually read?” But the joke fell flat.

Jennie held out the issue, open to an article on traveling in Europe.

Colin paled, but slowly held out his hand. A man who does his duty, even when it pains him, Lucy realized, even when he could snub a servant to avoid the discomfort. He looked at the title and read silently the first paragraph. “I have already read this one. Would it be acceptable, Jennie, to choose something else?”

“Oh, yes, sir.” Jennie smiled broadly, at his consideration of her opinion. Another man of his rank and family would have merely chosen a different article.

“Given his wound, it will tire his lordship to read to us,” Lucy intervened. “But perhaps we could solve the enigmas?”

“Yes, ma'am.” Jennie nodded enthusiastically. “I like puzzles.”

Colin handed the magazine back to Lucy, mouthing,
Thank you,
when the wet nurse buried her face in the pages.

“Then find some for us to solve together,” Lucy instructed Jennie gently.

Jennie found the enigmas, rejected them all, and began searching through the other issues for better ones.

Lucy leaned forward as if to check on William in his basket, but took the chance to whisper in Colin's ear. “Have you already worked the enigmas?”

“No.” He tilted his head to whisper in hers, brushing an escaped curl back from her face, then tucking it behind her ear. She felt the sweetness of his touch in a tingle down her neck and spine. Then his hand was gone, and he leaned back against the seat. “She preferred the travel memoirs, or discussing court news: who was visiting whom, what marriages were expected, whose fortunes were on the ascent and whose were on the decline.”

“Sounds dreadful.” Lucy grimaced. She lifted the blanket, saw that William was still fast asleep, then leaned back in her seat.

He raised an eyebrow at her comment.

“I suppose it would be different if you knew the persons being discussed, but without that”—she shrugged—“it's all rather . . . vapid, don't you think?”

He smiled, that slow, knowing smile that made her heart warm. “But sometimes useful as information.”

“If one were a Machiavel, intending to use that knowledge to gain or wield power.” Lucy regarded him carefully, noting how the corner of his mouth tightened when his wound was hurting or how it twitched with amusement when he tried to hide a smile. “Are you a Machiavel, my lord, gaining information to profit from it?”

“Ah, a bluestocking after all!” Colin winked.

She was saved from response by Jennie's declaration that she'd found the best set of puzzles. Jennie held out the section for Colin's inspection. “Are these acceptable, my lord? Some of them look hard.”

Colin took the issue from her hand with a kind smile. “I'm sure your choices will be fine. Should I begin?”

Jennie blushed. “Oh, yes, sir, of course, sir.” Lucy was certain that, had they been standing, Jennie would have offered at least half a dozen curtsies.

Colin swept the blond hair from his eyes, “Let's see. Ah, here. Name a popular author in two syllables. First syllable is a valued metal. Second syllable is the second half of a worker of molten iron.”

Jennie beamed. “Oh! I know the second word. Blacksmith. The second syllable would be just smith. But I don't know no poets, 'cept Bobby Burns.”

“Well, let's think of valued metals . . .” Lucy prompted, avoiding Colin's eyes as he hummed softly the first bar of “O Good Ale.”

“Silver, gold, copper.... Must be gold. It's the only metal with a one-syllable name.” Jennie chewed on the nail of her index finger. “Gold-smith. Do you think that's right?”

“Goldsmith is a poet, so that's likely the solution.” Colin looked at the cover of the magazine. “This is June. Do you have the July issue for the answers?”

Jennie's face fell. “No, sir, I only have the three, January, March, and June. We won't have answers to any of the puzzles.”

“Then we will simply decide if we are right.” Lucy patted Jennie's arm.

“Can we do that, miss?” Jennie looked distressed.

“Well, certainly, as long as our answer meets the criteria the original puzzle provides,” Lucy reassured her.

Jennie squinted into the distance, thinking, then smiled broadly. “That seems fair.”

“And let's make it more interesting, shall we?” Colin suggested. “We'll make it a contest. If I win . . .”

Jennie looked down at her hands, her knitting stopped. “I have nothing to offer, sir, but the cakes that Alice gave me as a present.”

“But those are yours, Jennie,” Lucy interceded, sending Colin a threatening glare. “No, we shall be a team, the two of us against Lord Somerville, and I will pay any penalty if we lose.”

“Any penalty?” Colin's eyes grew bright with amusement and something else.

“Any penalty, if we lose.” Lucy caught his eyes and the intention in them, but she turned to Jennie. “And we shan't lose, Jennie, shall we?”

“No, miss, we shan't. I am terrible good at puzzles.”

“Then let's see.” Lucy avoided looking anywhere but at Jennie. “Shall we do flowers, desserts, trees, vegetables, or towns? Jennie, you choose.”

“Flowers, miss.”

“The first enigma is ‘a lady's name.'”

“Rose,” Jennie answered without hesitation.

“Excellent. Your turn, Somerville.” Lucy allowed herself to meet his eyes. Blue. Bottomless.

He offered her a slow smile and another wink. “Ah, this should be easy.”

“Rose was not typical,” Lucy warned, shaking her head as she silently read over the list. “Perhaps we should work one together before you begin.”

“No, just read the first,” Colin said smugly. “I'm sure I can decipher it.”

“Well, then, here it is. ‘An article of food and a vessel.'” Lucy raised her own eyebrow in challenge.

“Hmmm.” Colin put his hand to his chin and frowned.

“Would you like me to read it again?” Lucy grinned at Jennie.

“No. But can you give me a hint. Food covers considerable ground. And I've never played
these
games before.” Colin let the emphasis fall on the word
these
.

Lucy rolled her eyes at him, then turned to Jennie. “Do we wish to allow Somerville a hint?”

“Of course, miss.” Jennie's hands moved in a steady rhythm, as she knitted a blanket for William. “But we get a hint to hold in reserve as well.”

“That seems only fair,” Colin conceded. “I like to hold things in reserve. What is my hint?”

“The food is something that comes from a cow.” Lucy gave him a bright, devious smile.

“Milkweed!” Somerville announced proudly.

“No, sir,” Jennie corrected, her attention focused on her knitting and not on her companions. “‘Weed' is not a vessel.”

“Cowslip?” Colin proposed with a shrug, letting his gaze rake across Lucy's body.

“Have you no better answers, Somerville?” Lucy shook her head, both at the answer and at his sensual invitation. “Jennie, can you solve it?”

“Oh, yes, miss.” Jennie finished another row and shifted her yarn. “Buttercup.”

“Excellent, Jennie. Now it's your turn. Here's the clue: ‘Part of the body, a consonant, and comfort.'”

“Why couldn't I get that one?” Colin raised his hand in mock exasperation. “I'm good at body parts.”

Both Lucy and Jennie ignored him.

“That's easy. Heartsease.” Jennie beamed at her good luck. “My mother used to grow them each spring.”

“Can I have an easier one?” Somerville leaned forward to take the magazine, but Lucy held it out of his grasp. Even so, his hand brushed her knee and lingered.

“How about this one?” She moved her leg out of his reach. “‘Vessels and a vowel.'”

“Let's see. Vessels. Vessels are ships, so my possibilities are boat, canoe, bark, dinghy. . . .” He counted off the words on his fingers.

“It's a flower,” Lucy reminded him. “Remember: they make the puzzles backward. They have a word, then they create the enigma for it. So, start from the flower names, not the clue. What flowers have names of vessels in them?”

Colin began to list flowers randomly. “Violet, rose, woodbine, clematis, poppy, cornflower, pansy, sunflower, iris.”

Jennie snickered.

“Would you like to concede, sir?” Lucy offered, placing her hand on his leg, and feeling a surge of warmth in her belly.

“Concede?” He looked at her hand, then met her eyes. “Why?”

“You named the flower, but did not realize you had the answer.” Lucy removed her hand to her lap.

“How do you know I named it?” Colin objected. “We have no solutions.”

“Yes, sir, but both Miss Lucy and I have washed dishes,” Jennie interjected.

He thought back over his list. Which flower could also be a dish? Dishes. Pans. Pans plus a vowel to be a flower. “Pansy? Surely not! That's silly. . . .”

“Yes, it's a vessel and a vowel,” Lucy indulged him, patting his leg as if he were an obedient dog. “Would you prefer some other game?”

“Perhaps.” Colin rubbed his face with one hand. “What do they offer?”

“Anagrams,” Jennie read aloud the next section heading. “The category is painters and sculptors.”

“Then let's do those.” Colin brushed his hair back from his forehead. “My experience with flowers seems to be sadly lacking. But I get to choose for you.” He held his hand out for the magazine. “Here, this one is perfect: ‘I call my angel O.” He mouthed, My angel, to Lucy.

Jennie produced a slip of paper from her reticule and a stub of a pencil and began to tease out words from the riddle. Within minutes, however, her face turned an awkward green. “Oh dear, Miss Lucy, I feel somewhat ill.”

“Put the paper away, and look out of the window.” Lucy reached in her bag and pulled out a small handkerchief. In it was a handful of freshly picked peppermint leaves. “Chew on this, but don't swallow. It should help to soothe your stomach.”

Lucy turned her attention wholly to the wet nurse, leaving Colin to wonder what painter's name could be made from
I call my angel O.

* * *

It had been hell with a queasy Jennie in the carriage.

They had tried everything. Sit facing forward. Sit facing backward. Windows open, windows closed. Beside the window, in the middle, beside the other window. Nothing worked.

She apologized profusely and constantly. Then, when William awoke, she felt uncomfortable feeding him with Colin present. Since they could not stop the carriage safely, Colin covered his face with a handkerchief and turned his body to face the wall. Within minutes, his side ached.

Finally, miraculously, Jennie had fallen asleep.

Since neither he nor Lucy wished to risk waking her, neither spoke.

Lucy had ended up where she had begun—across from him, facing back. And he'd spent the last two hours watching her with lidded eyes, and imagining the best way to remove her clothes. But he'd learned one thing at least during their ride: Lucy's tenderness to others was as natural to her as his own stubbornness was to him.