Lady Scandal (12 page)

She lifted one eyebrow.
"You could teach me
to curse."

"I may just.
Now, if you will excuse me,
I've a horse to sell and other transport to arrange."

With a grin he started back to the horse.
Alexandria followed him.
"You were supposed to be in bed
today."

He had been gathering up the reins to the
bridle, but he paused and turned to her.
His color had gone pale
again, and a sheen lay on his skin.
She wanted to touch her hand to
his face and decided that she could risk that much.
So she brushed
the back of her fingers across his forehead.
Not too warm.
No
fever.
But he looked so tired.

He caught her hand and brushed his thumb
across the inside of her wrist.
"Worried for me?"

She jerked away from his hold.
"If you
collapse while away, you leave us stranded here, so yes I am
worried!" She sounded sharp as a shrew, but he did not seem to
mind.

He grinned.
"Ah, but how could I stay away
from two beautiful women, even if I had to return as a ghost?"

"Please do not joke about that."

"Then give me a leg up, if you like.
Or do
you care to ride before me on this old roan?
I cannot swear she
will take both our weights, however, even though you are still
almost as slim as a girl."

She glanced at the horse.
"You have an
annoying habit of being right about things.
How do I give you a leg
up?"

He had to coach her in how to grab his left
leg when he bent it, one hand wrapped around his knee and the other
at his ankle.
It brought her closer to him than when she had been
sitting in the gig with him, and the awareness of him tingled on
her skin.

The first time she did not boost enough, and
he glared at her.
"I'm not china to break!"

The next time, she lifted hard on his count
of three and he almost sailed over the horse's back.
Catching the
mane with one hand, he grinned down at her.
Reaching out, he caught
and twirled a lock of her hair around her fingers.
With a tug on
it, he let go.
"I'd kiss you if I could do so without slipping off
this beast.
Make yourself pretty for me while I'm gone."

But how could anyone be pretty in these
clothes?

She nearly jumped as a twig snapped behind
her, and she turned to see Diana.

"Look at me, Aunt!
Do you think Father would
even know me now?"

The girl twirled, spinning in the small
clearing of trees like a wood nymph.
Alexandria shook her head.

Diana had let down her hair, and the golden
curls fell to the middle of her back.
She had on a simple, blue
muslin gown, high-waisted, with a yellow scarf tucked into the
neckline.
It looked appropriate for Marie-Jeanne, not a young lady
of birth who had, only a few weeks ago, had graced the grandest
salons of Paris.

Skipping forward, Diana
picked up the sleeve of her aunt's dress, holding it out.
"I
suppose he did not get you as pretty a gown, but if you are
supposed to be my glowering
mère
...." Diana glanced at her
aunt.

The poor dear had not been happy about
leaving their things behind, and Diana almost gave a sigh for the
dresses she had bought in Paris and had left at the inn.
Such
pretty things, and all in the latest fashion.
It would have been
lovely to take them home and show them off.
However, far better to
have a story to tell.

So how did she coax her aunt into a better
humor so that she did not spoil this most amazing experience?

She put an arm around her aunt.
"You know we
could ask him to get you something a bit more...well, more
scandalous.
You could be disguised as his mistress, and I could be
the daughter who disapproves."

Her aunt snatched the dress from Diana's
hands.
"I am not Lady Scandal."

Diana's face warmed.
She had not meant to
bring this up, but since her aunt had mentioned it, she decided she
might as well use the opportunity.

Stepping around to undo the ties at the back
of her aunt's lovely gold-patterned gown, Diana asked, "Of course
you are not, Aunt.
But something must have occurred to cause you to
once be known as Lady Scandal."

"It was years ago," her aunt said, her voice
as closed as her expression.
She dropped the cotton shift, slipped
out of her gold gown and busied herself in pulling on the
brown.

Before she had it so much as up over her
knees, Diana stopped her.
"Really, now!
How will you ever look the
part proper if you do not wear everything?"

"I am not going to itch in uncomfortable
undergarments."

"What if we are stopped and searched?
There
might be any number of barricades that have been set up along the
way to catch fleeing English.
And the ports are bound to be full of
soldiers!"

Her aunt frowned, glanced at the clothes and
gave a sigh.
"Oh, very well."

Smiling, Diana started to help her again,
undoing the laces to her aunt's corset.
"I suppose what you did
could not have been all that scandalous, for I have never heard so
much as a breath of it.
Still, I supposed Father would know—"

"No!"

Diana blinked.

Her aunt had turned positively red.
Now she
fussed with slipping out of her light corset and chemise and into
the rough linen, hurrying with the changing.
"I beg your pardon,"
she muttered as she dressed.
"I do not mean to be harsh about it.
But I wish the past left where it is.
That means I will not discuss
it, and you are not to ask your father about it if...when we return
home."

Diana frowned.
Honestly, her aunt could be
so stubborn at times.
Plucking the straw bonnet from the ground,
she studied it.
"Yes, but dear, do you really think the past will
stay in the past what with Mr.
Marsett with us every moment of the
day?"

"It had better.
Now help me get the rest of
these ghastly clothes on."

Subdued now, Diana did so.

Alexandria found that they fit far better
than she had thought they would.
The dress, far from being
shapeless, clung tight around the bodice and had been cut close in
the skirt, probably to save the cost of fabric.
The results
revealed her narrow waist and the curve of her hip and pushed up
her breasts.
She had not felt so well endowed since she was
pregnant and nursing.
It seemed a dress to suit a Lady Scandal
after all.

She turned and glanced at Diana.
The girl's
eyes sparkled with delight.
"Why, no one in London would know
you!"

"I am not certain of that.
Still...."
Reaching up, she started to pull the pins from her hair.
Diana
moved forward at once to help.

Her hair was not as long as Diana's, but she
had not had it trimmed since they had arrived in France.
Once
loose, it brushed her shoulders.
She pulled back a section from the
front on each side and asked Diana to take the ribbon from the
straw bonnet to tie up the strands.

Glancing at her white hands and at Diana's,
she said, "Neither of us look as if we have done a day's work in
our lives, which is just about the truth."

Picking up a handful of dirt she scrubbed
her hands and Diana's.
"This will not produce appropriate calluses,
but I hope we may avoid such close inspection."

Diana wrinkled her nose.
"I have not been
allowed to play in the dirt since I was five."

Giving her a stern glance, Alexandria shook
her head.
"This is not play.
I do not know what those soldiers
intend for Paxten if they find him, but it cannot be good.
And I
doubt it will go well for us, either.
Not when we have been aiding
him.
Keep that in mind."

Her warning sobered the girl, and Alexandria
almost wished she had not needed to be so plainspoken.
But it would
not do to make this into some May-game.
Not with the stakes so
high.

They settled under the beech trees to wait
for Paxten.
The sun fell lower, pulling long shadows from the
trees.
The breeze shifted to the north and took on a chill so that
Diana hugged herself against it.
And they saw nothing more than a
farmer bent over on a donkey cart, slowing making his way along the
winding, dirt lane.

Alexandria alternated between inventing
pictures of Paxten collapsed along the roadside and worrying that
perhaps he intended to leave them in the woods.
The Paxten she had
known could never have done such a thing, but she was not certain
that man still existed.
At times she had thought she had glimpsed
him, but was that the truth, or her own wishful thinking?

Still, she had her jewels, or most of them,
with her.
If need be, she could manage without him.
But what if he
had not managed so well on his own?
She ought never to have allowed
him to go off without her.

Watching the road, she saw the farmer, bent
over the donkey cart, veered off the lane and head towards them.
And she recognized the broad shoulders of that slumped figure.

It was Paxten.

As he neared, he looked up.
Under the black
slouch hat pulled low, his dark eyes glittered bright with wicked
humor.
He had exchanged the footman's black breeches and coat and
stiff white shirt for tan breeches, an open-necked, muslin shirt
with billowing sleeves.
With a plain, black waistcoat, white
stockings and sturdy black shoes, he looked almost a peasant.
Almost.
That face—finely made, with wide intelligent eyes and
aristocratic nose—belonged to no peasant.
He might, however, pass
for a brigand dressed as he was.
No wonder he wore that hat pulled
low.

She wondered if her own disguise, and
Diana's, was as thin.
Did they look like a farm wife and a maid?
Or
like the aristocrats that had once fled the guillotine?

In the golden twilight, Diana bounced to her
feet and hurried forward.
"A donkey!
How adorable!
Can I drive
him?"

"I think Maximilian has gone far enough for
the day," Paxten said, halting the cart and easing himself from it.
He moved with care, Alexandria noted, and if his face had looked
pale before now it seemed drained of color and tight with new
lines.

Because of that, she held back her
irritation.
A donkey cart of all things!
What would he be putting
them in next?
A dung wagon?
She certainly ought to have gone with
him, only for different reasons than she had thought earlier.

Diana petted the donkey's face and drew the
long ears between her fingertips.
The donkey seemed to like the
attention well enough, or at least stood placid in its traces.
The
attached two-wheeled cart had a wooden bench seat and a canvas
covering over what looked to be a flat area for storage.

"Care to help with the harness, and take
Maximilian to water?" Paxten asked the girl.

"Oh, can I?
But I can manage on my own.
I
used to have a cart at home with the sweetest pair of cream ponies.
Father always says that a horsewoman must be able to care for her
mounts as good as any groom or she is nothing more than a
passenger."

"You've a wise father."

"Terribly so.
You have no idea how dull it
is.
Come along, Maximilian—such a mouthful of name for such a
darling, little thing." Diana unbuckled the harness with an
efficiency that showed her familiarity with the task.
She led the
donkey to the nearby stream, talking to it as if it were an old
friend.

Paxten smiled at her.
Was there anything as
energetic as youth?
Had he ever been so young?
Pressing a hand to
his aching side, he decided not.
Turning, he found Alexandria
staring at him, wearing her disapproving face, lips taut and gray
eyes storming.

"Is it the donkey, or something else?" he
asked, his tone cautious.

"The donkey—and you.
You look exhausted.
I
do not know how we shall get you to an inn tonight."

"No need.
I've brought the
bed to you—
voilà
!"
He drew back the canvas covering on the cart, revealing blankets,
pillows, and a basket from which the aroma of a meat pie
teased.

She stared at him, dismay in her eyes.
"You
mean there is to be no roof over our heads?"

"We had best avoid any more inns for they
leave too easy a trail to follow."

No inns?
No beds?
Her mind
struggled to grasp such a concept, and the urge to sit down and cry
swept into her.
Tears burned the back of her eyes and stung her
nose.
Shocked at herself, she turned away.
He was beside her in an
instant, his arm around her waist, his wide shoulders temptingly
close.
"Ah, what is it,
ma petite
chou
?
Is it the donkey cart you so
dislike?"

She longed to lean against him and give into
this absurd weakness.
She had not known until just an instant ago
how much she had been looking forward to a hot meal and a bed
and...and oh, how ridiculous she must look to be nearly crying over
such trivialities.

Sniffling, she stepped away.
"I beg your
pardon.
It is nothing—nothing, except that I am tired and hungry,
and...and I thought you were lying dead beside the road, or that
you would not come back at all, and I...oh, it is nonsensical, but
I've never slept on the ground, and it sounds so
uncomfortable!"

He closed on her again.
She batted his hands
away, but still he gathered her in his arms and pulled her head
against his chest, muttering things in French that she did not
understand.

She sniffled again.
She ought not to stand
in his arms, her control threatening to come undone and his hand
stroking her hair.
It did no good for his injury.
And he had
probably held that Lisette of his just so only a few days
ago—horrible woman that she was.
And...and what if Diana returned
to see this?

Her mind whirled.

But she stayed in the shelter of his arms,
eyes closed, letting that lovely rumble of a voice pour over her.
Her arms stole around him.
Perhaps just a few moments.
She let out
a ragged breath.
It had been such a long day.

Tightening his arms, Paxten rested his head
on hers and closed his eyes.
His poor Andria.
Never to have slept
under the stars, nor to have had the joy of sturdy clothing that
could be worn without a care, nor to have traveled anywhere without
an army of servants to both see to her and hem her in at the same
time.
So much that was new—too much perhaps.

And
she
had been worried for
him
.

He smiled.

He ought to use this, he knew.
He had been
looking for her to show some vulnerability, to show some flaw he
could exploit, and now he had such an opportunity, he wanted only
to hold her and tell her that it would be all right.

Ah, what a lie that was.
What was ever right
in this world?
Least of all him.
Or anything between them?

He knew the moment she relaxed, felt the
stiffness slip away from that slim, straight back, heard her breath
come easier and soft now.

Leaning away from her, he looked down and
brushed a strand of hair from her face.
The setting sun turned her
hair into a nimbus of gold around her head.
He had wanted her hair
loose, and now he remembered how it curved around that strong chin.
He cupped her face with one hand.
She had her eyes closed still,
and her lips parted as if expecting the kiss he intended.
Ah, so
she knew him, too, it seemed.
How easy they fell into this reading
of each other.

He started to bend to her, but he heard
Diana's light chatter.

Alexandria must have heard it, too, for she
bolted from his hold.
The languor of a moment ago vanished into
that brisk English tone of hers.
"I suppose if we are to camp
tonight, we shall need a fire.
I certainly hope you know how to
make one, for I have no idea."