Lord Nick's Folly (5 page)

She couldn't see their boots, but would also wager they were highly polished. Her own half boots of Moroccan leather, so sensible for traveling, could have used a touch of polish. Perhaps she would seek out the valet Lord Nicholas brought along to see if he might assist Annie with the polishing since she was incapacitated, more or less.

Lord Nicholas glanced at the door, and she was discovered. He promptly rose from the table. Gesturing to the vacant chair, he urged, "Please join us. I doubt your chocolate will sustain you for long. I hope to put in a few hours on the road before we must pause for a lunch."

"Then we are to go this morning?" Nympha was delighted, hurrying forward to join them. The thought of keeping her great-aunt waiting was not pleasing. She slid onto the chair between the two men, sparing a glance at Mr. Milburn before turning her attention to Lord Nicholas again. "The coach repair is completed? I am set to go?"

"Well, yes and no. I thought that perhaps you and I might forge on ahead. The wheelwright ran into a problem with the coach. Your great-aunt's coachman agreed that it is better to get a really good repair rather than to have a shabbily done job that requires redoing, or worse yet, have another accident. So, instead of waiting here, I hoped you might agree to proceed in my carriage. Your maid will join us, and Simpson can either ride on top or inside, depending on the weather. What do you say?"

Nympha nibbled at her lower lip, confused and a bit annoyed. She had relished traveling in the elegant coach sent for her, and was reluctant to forego that luxury. Yet, she truly hated to linger here, alone, when she could be on her way to the north. As to having the company of Lord Nicholas all that distance, she preferred not to consider her feelings.

"Very well, if you think it best," she replied with all the reluctance she felt. "After all, I have known you for ages, and you seem more like my brother than a stranger." She offered a bland smile before spooning some buttered eggs and a bit of gammon onto her plate. Mr. Milburn proffered toast, and they ate their meal in a silence broken only by requests for salt and jam.

Nick wordlessly fumed while consuming a hearty meal. He was not accustomed to being treated like a brother by a perfectly presentable female not related to him. In fact, she was more than presentable if you studied her a little. Why, dressed in the height of fashion she would shine at any ball or social event. He hoped her great-aunt actually
was
warm in the pocket, able to buy her young relative a few pretty creations—if such things were available so far north.

He intended to see something of her once in Mansfield. Her great-aunt might be of help in his quest to discover the identity of the murdered man. At least, he hoped so, if she was the sort of woman who knew everyone for miles around. Having Miss Herbert in his carriage meant he would have to deliver her directly to her great-aunt, thus offering him an opportunity to meet the elderly lady, perhaps gain a chance to call on them.

"I was hoping that we three might travel on together," Milburn inserted, giving Nick a sullen look. "It is more congenial when there are several in a party. The larger the number, the less likelihood there is to cause gossip, don't you think? Not that I expect to see more people I know along the way, but one never knows . . . ," he concluded in a rather suggestive manner with a raise of a shrewd brow.

Dash it all, Milburn did have a point. And the last thing Nick wanted was gossip. One look at the dainty miss with her blond curls peeping from under a small chip bonnet, and his goose would be cooked. Or Milburn's. Either way, it was not to be considered.

"I take your meaning. Very well. I see no reason why our carriages cannot make a sort of cavalcade out of the trip. If you feel your post-chaise can keep up with mine, by all means join us." Nick knew a certain satisfaction frustrating Milburn in his attempt to rid himself of the expense of his hired post-chaise by traveling in Nick's vehicle. Were it another man, it would likely have been different. But Nick felt he didn't know Milburn well enough. Besides, why should he and Miss Herbert be cramped merely to accommodate a near stranger? Dash it all, he simply wanted distance between Milburn and Miss Herbert! He did not examine his reasons closely— not at all—but there it was.

Milburn compressed his mouth in what seemed to be silent annoyance. Obviously, he had hoped the matter would be resolved to his liking. "I look forward to our meeting at meals and the evenings, in that event," he said with reluctant grace.

The maids and Nick's valet had been busy while they were at their morning meal. All their baggage was in the process of being stowed in the boot of his carriage when they left the inn. Nick had settled the account for himself and for Miss Herbert, after murmuring to her that the coachman had a purse with him sufficient to cover his expenses as well as the coach repair.

He was pleased that she didn't argue with him as some forward misses might have. She behaved with unexpected propriety, not that she had been all that disgraceful in the past. However, she had admired his brother and had gone to great lengths to attract his attention. Perhaps that was the reason she had no interest in him? Well, Nick couldn't compete with the heir to the marquisate. He wouldn't even try!

Milburn crossed to where his Yellow Bounder awaited him. He exchanged a few words with the postboy. Garbed in white corduroy breeches and a bright yellow jacket, the postboy was booted and spurred, ready to leave.

Because the morning was so fine, Annie decided to sit up with Simpson on that seat designed for servants. The valet was a very superior sort, and Nick suspected Annie wished to learn as much as she could from him. Either that, or flirt!

"I will keep a record, sir, and you shall be reimbursed once we reach Mansfield and my great-aunt," Miss Herbert declared as Nick assisted her into his family coach.

"As you wish, Miss Herbert."

The mud from yesterday's trip had been washed away, and the family crest gleamed in all its bright paint. While Nick didn't usually hold with display, he'd found when traveling that a crest made a world of difference in his treatment. He did enjoy good meals and fresh, lavender-scented sheets.

Nick flashed a smile at her as he joined her in the coach once she had settled. A touch of independence did not harm the pretty girl he had chosen to rescue. "I shall report to your relative all that has been done, my dear."

Nympha eased back on the seat, wondering why she hadn't insisted upon Annie joining them. The girl had looked so eager to join the impressive valet that it seemed cruel to deny her the pleasure. Besides, what could happen inside a traveling coach in broad daylight?

Looking about her, it was clear she wouldn't miss the elegance of her great-aunt's carriage in the least. The Stanhope coach was equal to or surpassed it in refinement, with all manner of little touches to ensure one's comfort. Her great-aunt's coach did not have a sword case built in—Nympha supposed she didn't feel the need for it. The squabs, or cushions, were silk covered, and there were Venetian blinds on the windows. Nympha suspected the carpet that covered the floor of the coach was a Wilton, for it was thick and richly colored.

"You travel well, I believe," Nympha said at last to break the silence.

He had chosen to sit opposite her, so she didn't have to turn her head to speak with him.

"I find it agreeable not to arrive aching and miserable at my destination." He reclined against his seat, crossing one knee over the other once the coach had set forth and the pace was determined.

Nympha nodded, wondering again what was taking him to Mansfield. "Do you know anyone in Mansfield, sir?"

"Well, I daresay I know Byron as well as anyone does. Portland and Manvers as well. Lord William Bentinck comes from around there, and I've run into him at the various clubs and social events when in Town. Nice chap."

She knew that Portland was a duke and that Lord Manvers was an earl. Hadn't Papa mentioned that Lord William was aiming for a seat in the House of Commons? Nympha settled against the cushioned seat as though she could sink into it. This was high-flying for the daughter of a rector, no matter how well connected he might be. "I see."

"I imagine that your great-aunt is well acquainted with those in the area. Perhaps she may be able to recommend a good inn in Mansfield?" He rubbed his well-shaped chin with a hand that looked strong and capable. It was surprising how she had never observed much about him before. It was merely because she was in such proximity that she looked more closely at him now— that was surely it. But she began to find him appealing, surprisingly so. He might be decidedly masculine, but his consideration for her comforts and well-being charmed her. He proved to be far more complex, more tantalizing than she had suspected.

"I feel certain she will." The thought occurred to her that her relative might well be pleased to house the son of the Marquess of Lanstone for a time. After all, he possessed his own status. Lord Nicholas Stanhope was a gentleman many hostesses would eagerly welcome.

"What do you plan to do on your visit?" he quizzed. "I suppose you intend to survey Sherwood Forest? You hope for your own Robin Hood to find you?" His lordship cast her a look that bordered on teasing.

Nympha knew she blushed at the gleam in his eyes. "I'd like to see that, and perhaps Newstead Abbey as well. I suppose if Byron is in residence that wouldn't be possible. Young ladies do not visit the residence of a bachelor. Papa said that some gentleman discovered two Roman villas nearby a few years ago. Come to think on it, that might be more interesting than seeing the abbey."

"I've been told that when he is bored Byron shoots at the walls for amusement. It tends to pass the time when it is raining outside."

"Mercy! I do not think I will have anything to do with the place in that event." She was shocked to think a gentleman could behave in such a manner.

She studied the scene out of the window, wondering what else to discuss with his lordship. She had always ignored him in the past. Now, she was finding it quite difficult to do so. She was aware of him every second. He stirred something deep within her she didn't understand.

Eventually, he pierced the quiet with a comment on a book he had read that she had also enjoyed. This led to a discussion of other books they both liked, thus passing the time until the coach drew into the courtyard of a superior coaching inn. His consideration in helping her from the coach mattered, and his touch aroused a warm feeling inside her. She liked laughing with him.

The Bell possessed a charming exterior and an equally agreeable interior. As Nympha followed a mobcapped maid down the hall to a room where she might refresh herself, she could hear Mr. Milburn's voice complaining to Lord Nicholas about the road he was compelled to endure.

Well, it was his notion to follow them. He might be a handsome gentleman, but she wasn't drawn to him at all. The thought that Lord Nicholas was more to her liking was set aside as impossible. She reminded herself that she did not like the man, and that was that!

* * * *

One day followed the next in fascinating order. She couldn't get enough of the scenery. They were blessed with fine weather and roads that had at last dried out. Mr. Milburn complained of the dust at every stop. Yet, when Lord Nicholas suggested he leave them, Mr. Milburn stuck like a burr.

She was very glad to have company on her journey north. She confessed as much to the gentlemen who were so kind as to join her for meals each day, although it was Lord Nicholas to whom she was most grateful.

"We are the ones who are in your debt, Miss Herbert," Lord Nicholas replied with more gallantry than she expected. "We would be a pair of dull dogs without you."

Mr. Milburn echoed this sentiment with equal courtesy.

But it was Lord Nicholas who captured a corner of her heart with his pleasant conversation, his little attentions, and his consideration of her wishes. She hadn't met many gentlemen, hadn't experienced hours of challenging discussion as she did with Lord Nicholas. He had a keen mind, yet teased her with silly games to pass the time.

He saw to it that she had her favored tea when they paused for lunch, and requested biscuits to take with them. His kindness, his charm, quite won her over.

By the time they reached Nottingham, all three had become a bit more informal. Still, Lord Nicholas did not invite Mr. Milburn to share his traveling coach—in spite of its spacious interior. He explained to Nympha that if it chanced to rain, he would want Annie and Simpson to be inside, dry and not likely to come down with the ague.

As the coach traveled north from the larger city, Nympha drew forth the detailed instructions for reaching her great-aunt's home that the coachman had dictated to her before they parted ways.

"Here, my lord, the instructions your coachman needs to find the house." She offered them to his lordship, aware that his touch affected her oddly—even through her gloves. She dismissed the effect as of no consequence, purely an accident. But it was unsettling, nevertheless.

Nick accepted the proffered papers, studying them with care. Miss Herbert had a fine hand, very easy to read. "It seems we shall be there in no time at all. I'll wager you will be glad to see the last of us." A smile lit his eyes, even if his face was sober.

They had to change horses one more time, during which Nick explained to his man where they were to turn off to reach Coxmoor Hall.

Returning to his traveling coach, Nick glanced at his passenger. He would be sorry to part with her, he realized with a start. The girl he had considered a peagoose had turned out to be far more substantial—witness the books she enjoyed reading and her insightful comments on poetry. Not that Nick was that well acquainted with poetry, but he had perused some of Byron's. It was the sort of stuff that sent impressionable young women off to the woods to declaim favorite passages to the ferny glades.

"I want to thank you for your kindness on this journey," Miss Herbert ventured. "You have made what would have been a dreary trip most pleasant. I confess that I thought you to be immersed in golf to the exclusion of all else, and you proved me wrong. I apologize, if that thought offends you." She smiled, a delicious little smile he found rather tantalizing. But then, he had learned there was a lot about Miss Herbert that attracted him.