Lord Nick's Folly (4 page)

Nick guessed she spoke softly in consideration of Milburn's feelings. The thought occurred to him that he didn't know if the fellow had any of the more tender emotions or not. Nick did.

The innkeeper had been busy. Or his wife had, for there was a nice collation on the table. Bowls of hot vegetable soup were placed before them as they joined Milburn at the table. Crusty rolls were warm from the oven.

Miss Herbert seated herself with more poise than might be expected, given that she was stranded at an inn in the company of two men, one she didn't like and one she didn't know.

Nick eased Miss Herbert's chair closer to the table with misgivings. While they weren't all that close to one another, it was possible for Milburn's knees to accidentally touch hers. Why, he had done it himself from time to time, but only with those fair damsels who were quite up to snuff. Miss Herbert was anything but up to snuff.

He needn't have worried.

"Mr. Milburn, I fear we are a trifle crowded at this table. Perhaps if I move to another chair you will have enough room? You tall gentlemen have such long, er, limbs. My brother, Adam, is the same. He never seems to have enough room at the table." She gave both men a pleasant look, holding her soupspoon aloft while turning to each.

Nick cleared his throat of a sudden obstruction. What a guileless smile she had offered Milburn. He had turned a beetroot red, moving away in such haste he nearly overset his soup bowl.

"No, I am fine. You must forgive me for chancing to bump you."

Nick caught Milburn's gaze at that point, sending the fellow a message that should have been plain to a dimwit. "The rain appears to be lessening. Do you intend to move on this afternoon, Milburn?"

"Actually, I thought it might be a good idea were we to travel as a party for a time." Milburn avoided Nick's gaze. "One cannot be too careful nowadays. The roads are often dangerous." His dark eyes that met Miss Herbert's were full of meaning, although what he intended to convey escaped Nick.

"Do you mean highwaymen, or merely nasty holes in the road?" she inquired with obvious dismay.

Nick leaned back in his chair, waiting to see what Milburn would say.

This time Milburn did glance at Nick. He gave Miss Herbert a jaunty smile as though to imply he could take care of either one, and replied, "Why, as to that, you need have no worry. Not if we are there to defend you."

Nick wondered if Milburn hoped to leave his hired yellow bounder at the Dog and Drake, presuming to sponge a ride with him. Rather than bring that matter up, he turned his attention to his meal. If anyone were going to change coaches, it would be that he would invite Miss Herbert to share his—in the guise of safety. If that ruse failed, he would offer to join her so that he might be handy if the coach had more trouble.

There was no way of knowing, but he had decided there was something a trifle smoky about Milburn showing up as he had. Nick refused to consider that he might be jealous of Milburn's dashing good looks. After all, Miss Herbert couldn't see the thinning hair atop his head.

It might have been possible for Milburn to learn that Miss Herbert set forth on her journey early this morning. Nick hadn't known, but Milburn apparently had spent time nosing about the village—he'd met the rector and his wife, not to mention wangling an introduction to Miss Herbert, hadn't he?

The meal continued in silence for a time until Miss Herbert commented on the weather, then offered an opinion of village life, followed by a remark about the benefits of fresh air. Nick decided he'd suggest exploring the village. She might like that.

"Miss Herbert, I would deem it a great pleasure if you would consent to stroll along the walk in this village," Milburn quickly said. "I believe there is a clever little shop not far from here. You must have a little memento of your pause here."

Nick waited to see what Nympha would do. He supposed he ought to intervene, but after all, if she was old enough to travel to Nottingham, she should know a lure when she heard one.

Miss Herbert blotted her nicely curved lips with her napkin, glanced at Nick, and then smiled. "I should like that very much, indeed."

She ignored the pudding offered by the serving maid, merely easing away from the table slightly, as though anxious to be gone.

"I will return to the wheelwright's shop to see what progress he has made, my dear," Nick said with a hint of the proprietary in his manner and voice.

"Why, Lord Nicholas, how very kind you are, especially when I am sure you are anxious to be off. You never did say where you are gong." She tilted her head, and the clever little flat hat she wore looked in danger of falling off.

"I believe our destination is the same. Mansfield."

Milburn gave a start. "You go to Mansfield as well?"

Nick leaned back in his chair again, surveying Milburn through half-closed eyes. "Is there any reason I shouldn't be going to Mansfield? I was not aware the town was off-limits to me."

"Oh, of course not. Silly of me, to be sure. I was merely surprised that all three of us go to the same town. Seems all the more reason to join company."

"I shall give it some thought, you may be sure," Nick replied evasively. He would need to speak with Miss Herbert alone. All he could do for the present was to let her walk with Milburn . . . unless—"Perhaps you would like to see how your coach proceeds, Miss Herbert? Then after that, we could all take a stroll to the village shop. I daresay there will be something of interest there." He gave Miss Herbert a smile as shrewd as the one she had given him before. He was rewarded with a dashed pretty blush.

"That would be lovely. My great-aunt's coachman will likely report, but it would be nice to see for myself."

Nick gave no hint of his satisfaction at this change in plans. Milburn's angry expression was quickly masked with a composed face.

The three left the Dog and Drake shortly after.

Miss Herbert was suitably impressed with the work that needed to be done on the traveling coach. The wheelwright was fashioning the axle even as they entered his shop. A pause by the door proved to be all that was necessary for her.

"My, that was interesting. What skill he has," she declared as Nick lifted her across a puddle. Nick smiled at Milburn.

"Thank you, sir. I vow I had not known you were such a gallant." She peeped up at him from under that ridiculous hat, examining his face. She wore a curious expression that baffled Nick.

"Oh, Lord Nicholas is quite the man with the ladies," Milburn said, his manner and voice insinuating.

"Well, I believe every gentleman aims to be agreeable to ladies. I should hope I'd not be objectionable," Nick replied with easy grace, tucking Miss Herbert's arm close to his side.

"I doubt you could be that," Miss Herbert said with a judicious gleam in her fine blue eyes.

"Do not be too trusting," Nick murmured as Milburn went ahead to open the door to the village shop.

"Of you, Mr. Milburn, or gentlemen in general?" she inquired in dulcet tones.

"All of the above."

She gave no indication as to whether she had heard him or not, entering the shop with obvious anticipation.

Nympha looked about her with more than a little curiosity. Having the attention of two gentlemen of the
ton
was enough to go to a girl's head—if she wasn't careful. She had heard the words of warning offered by Lord Nicholas, including himself in his advice. Why she should
not
trust him, she didn't know. Within her memory he had never by word or deed indicated he was untrustworthy. Of course, they were far from home now. And Mr. Milburn was an unknown quantity.

She examined the bits and pieces offered for sale in the shop. There was a card of lace, but not the sort to trim a petticoat. It still rankled her finer senses that his lordship should have observed her odiously plain garment.

Mr. Milburn insisted upon buying her a twist of peppermints. Lord Nicholas smiled at that, then found a box of bonbons recently brought from London by the hopeful owner of the shop upon his return from an annual restocking trip.

Nympha grinned inwardly at the thought that such elegant gentlemen were vying for her attention. She knew full well that it was because she was the only presentable female around, and suspected gentlemen found the appeal of competition irresistible.

The wind had risen while they were in the shop. Nympha pulled her velvet mantle closer about her, wishing it had a fur lining like one she had seen in
La Belle Assemblée.
She didn't dawdle, but stepped forth with haste, anxious to return to the comfort of a brisk fire at the inn.

The gentlemen kept pace with her, saying little in the face of the wind. Once they achieved the inn, Lord Nicholas slipped her mantle from her shoulders, then guided her to the fireplace. She had been right to suppose a good fire would await them.

Milburn left them to return to the room he had engaged for the night, promising to rejoin them shortly.

Nick watched as Miss Herbert stretched out her hands to the fire's warmth. He dropped her mantle on a nearby chair, then walked to her side.

"I believe you and I ought to join forces for the trip to Mansfield. Your traveling coach may well be repaired, but given the state of the roads, I would be much happier were I able to be close by in the event of trouble. After all, what would your esteemed father say if he knew?"

"My father knows you well, Lord Nicholas. However, I cannot imagine what he might say to our traveling together."

Nick thought he knew, but refrained from comment. "Please think about it. I'll not press you, but I will ask again come morning. With any luck at all, the wheelwright should have the coach ready following our breakfast."

Nick decided then and there that he would ride with Miss Herbert. Precisely how he would manage to evade Milburn he didn't know, but he would. Oh, yes, indeed— Milburn would find his scheme to fix the attentions of the lovely Miss Herbert, doted on by a possibly wealthy great-aunt, to no avail!

Chapter Three

Following a quiet evening spent discussing poetry and various writers, Nympha went to her room in the inn. She was quite bemused by what she had learned about the man she had disliked for so long. He was not at all shallow, nor was he even strongly opinionated. He had treated her thoughts and offerings as though they mattered, a novel thing when most men appeared to believe women had no brains worth mentioning. He did not seem at all disdainful that she had been raised to engage in meaningful conversation as a result of her father's unusual belief that God had created woman to be a man's helpmeet.

Nympha enjoyed a sound sleep, undisturbed by worries of traveling on the next day. After all, Lord Nicholas had promised he would look after her—more or less. Nympha had discovered she was not one of those stalwart girls who thought they could manage everything. She was well aware of the dangers that might befall her. To her way of thinking, having both gentlemen to hand was sensible. Interesting, too. Although, she mused as sleep crept up on her, she wasn't too sure about Mr. Milburn. She recalled her mother's voice, saying, "Handsome is as handsome does," and Mr. Milburn was handsome in his way.

And she sensed there was something between the two gentlemen. Quite what it was she couldn't say. Perhaps it might be nothing more than a feeling of antagonism on the part of Lord Nicholas. But as to Mr. Milburn, she rather thought his attitude was more a veiled hostility. She caught a hint of it every now and again in the looks he gave Lord Nicholas when he was otherwise occupied. Just why Mr. Milburn should dislike Lord Nicholas she couldn't begin to imagine. His lordship was all that was amiable, certainly helpful. Maybe Mr. Milburn envied his lordship's position, or his handsome face.

While Nympha had been raised not to judge a person by his appearance, she had to admit that that romantically tousled brown hair falling over a noble brow and gleaming dark eyes filled with mysterious depths had it all over Mr. Milburn's pleasant countenance and black eyes that seemed to lack any warmth. At times Lord Nicholas was inclined to thin his mouth into a firm line, but her father praised him for his astute management of his new estate.

Nympha snuggled into the coverings of her bed while pondering the nuances of the two gentlemen with whom she now traveled. It was a pity that once she reached her great-aunt she'd not see more of them, for that was a highly unlikely prospect. She had truly disliked Lord Nicholas in the past. Now she was revising her opinion slightly. He had looked after her splendidly, even if he tended to be a bit high-handed! On that thought, she slept, forgetting the thoughts she usually directed to his older brother.

Annie managed to bring in the tray set with chocolate and rolls while another maid opened the door for her. "Morning, miss."

Nympha inhaled deeply when the aroma of hot chocolate drifted to her nose and opened her eyes. "How is the weather? I do hope the rain has gone."

"Yes, miss. The sun might not be warm like summer, but it shines. I expect as how the primroses will be peeping out before long." She waited while Nympha settled against her pillows, then placed the tray before her.

"Spring," Nympha said with a sigh of satisfaction at the mere thought. "Do you know, I have not the least notion how long Great-Aunt Letitia intends me to visit with her. I imagine I'll stay for a while." Nympha polished off her chocolate and two of the rolls. Having not the slightest ache in her head this morning, she rose, dressed with what little help Annie could offer, then set off for the common room, intent upon finding Lord Nicholas if possible. She wore her blue traveling gown again, having little by way of wardrobe from which to choose.

Pausing at the entrance to the common room, she took note of the occupants. As yet, neither seemed to be aware of her presence. Both gentlemen were garbed rather finely for travel, she thought. However, she suspected that Lord Nicholas, even though he looked casual, was the more dashing of the two. His bottle-green coat worn over biscuit breeches with a waistcoat of muted rust-and-gold weave would send her brother, Adam, into transports. They fit his lordship superbly. Mr. Milburn wore a brown coat of undistinguished cut with tan pantaloons and a peacock-blue waistcoat. She couldn't see the buttons, but she would wager they were large. He seemed inclined toward the dandy, whereas Lord Nicholas wore more refined garments. Compared to Lord Nicholas, Mr. Milburn, in spite of being very nice looking, seemed lacking.