Miss Dower's Paragon (24 page)

Sir Charles was at last satisfied, and he straightened from his inspection. He smiled relief at his silent companion. “I do believe that with a bit of luck there will not be a bit of scarring.”

“Fortunate, indeed,” said Evelyn shortly. She let go of the bridle and stepped away from the horses.

Sir Charles looked more closely at her face. He was experienced enough with women to realize that she was upset. There was nothing that could make the present circumstances even more unpleasant than would a fit of hysterics, he thought, and so it would behoove him to make an attempt to be conciliatory.

Sir Charles reached out to take her hand between his own, and the tone of his voice became solicitous. “My dear Miss Dower, your nerves are naturally stretched nearly beyond bearing by this business.”

Her anger melted away in the face of his attention. Evelyn looked up at him in an appealing fashion. “I—I am feeling rather shaken by it all. Never could I have imagined such a thing could come to happen,” she said. She wondered what her mother would say when that lady learned how near she had come to being killed.

Sir Charles mistook her words as an apology to himself. With all of the gallantry of which he was capable, he said, “I assure you that I do not hold any ill will toward you, Miss Dower. The fault was as much mine.”

Evelyn gaped up at him, amazed. That he should mention anything of blame was positively outrageous. How he could do so was beyond her comprehension. She had almost had her neck broken, all because he had chosen to kiss her at that precise moment.

Sir Charles was unaware of her gathering indignation. “You must come over to the shade. See, there is a rather large rock beneath this tree, where you may sit and cool yourself. I could not forgive myself if you were to take harm from either the jarring that you undoubtedly suffered or through taking too much sun.”

Though her confidence in his character had been badly shaken, Evelyn nevertheless warmed to him once more. He was at last behaving just as he ought. Perhaps she had not perfectly understood him when he had seemingly blamed her for the accident. He would have behaved exceedingly angrily if he had truly thought she was at fault. And certainly the warmth in his eyes and in his voice was not that of an angry man.

As she accepted his proffered arm, she offered a wavering smile to him. “Thank you, Sir Charles. I appreciate your concern for my welfare.”

Sir Charles seated her on the rock before leaning one shoulder up against the tree trunk. With distaste he flicked a dead bee from off his coat sleeve. “We might as well be comfortable. The time will pass more pleasantly then. I am persuaded that it cannot be long before someone passes this way and stops to take us up.”

Evelyn stared up at him with renewed surprise. “But... do you not intend to make your way into Bath, sir, and return for me with a carriage?”

Sir Charles raised his brows as he regarded her with amusement. “My dear Miss Dower, what an idea! It is still all of three miles to town. Of course I do not mean to walk such a distance. The day is by far too warm for such exertion.”

“Surely you could ride one of your horses,” Evelyn pointed out.

Sir Charles regarded her with an expression that conveyed quite clearly his opinion that she was either mad or brutally callous. “Come, Miss Dower! That would be most inadvisable in light of the injuries that my horses have sustained. In any event, I could not possibly leave you unattended here on the public road. One could not know what sort of characters might come along and accost you.”

Evelyn chose to overlook that he had thought first of his horses. She laughed, waving aside his consideration for herself. “I have lived here all my life, Sir Charles, and I have yet to hear of anything dire come to sitting beside this road. I assure you that I would be perfectly safe. Pray do not allow reservations over my welfare to detain you, sir.”

Sir Charles Reginald eyed the young lady seated at a little distance from him with disapprobation. With determined civility, he said, “Thank you, Miss Dower. However, I am not inclined to go to such extraordinary and unnecessary effort when I am confident that we shall soon procure a lift from some passing stranger.”

“Well! I do think it somewhat pudding-hearted of you,” said Evelyn.

“One cannot expect a miss barely out of the schoolroom to perfectly understand these things,” said Sir Charles loftily.

The conversation languished.

Several minutes elapsed, during which each had absently slapped away insects and thought their own dismal thoughts. At length, Evelyn stood up and shook out the creased folds of her skirts. She cast a calculating glance at her companion. “Sir Charles, it is apparent to me that it will be some little time yet before our unknown rescuer makes an appearance. Perhaps matters might be expedited a bit if I were to walk back to town myself and convey the tidings of the carriage accident.”

Sir Charles straightened up from his indolent posture, surprised. “Miss Dower, your zeal is commendable but quite unnecessary, I assure you. It is too far for a gently nurtured female to venture. You will be wilted by the sun before you have gained the next rise.”

“Nevertheless, Sir Charles, I find that I am too impatient to remain,” said Evelyn firmly.

Sir Charles raised a brow, wondering what he had ever seen in the stubborn wench that had caused him to bestow his flattering condescension upon her. Miss Dower was altogether too willful for his taste. Only consider what had come of bowing to her insistence to drive his prized equipage. Now she thought to force him to an exertion equally abhorrent to his nature. But Miss Dower was about to learn that a gentleman’s sense of gallantry could be pushed only so far.

Sir Charles’s disapproval was patent in his stiff voice. “As you will, Miss Dower.”

Evelyn waited an instant to see whether Sir Charles meant to accompany her, but he made no move to do so. Instead, he removed a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully mopped his perspiring brow.

Angered and disappointed, Evelyn turned on her heel. Without a backward glance, she set off, striking out at a furious pace in testament to her hurt and bewilderment.

She had thought Sir Charles cared something for her, but it had become patently apparent to her that was not at all the case. She saw it now in all its stark reality. Sir Charles had been merely amusing himself by paying her court. What an absolute fool she had been to weave romantic fancies around him.

Disillusionment set in with terrible finality. An unexpected tear slid down her cheek. Angrily, she brushed it away. She would not cry over the gentleman. He was not worthy of it, she thought. Despite her determination, a few more tears followed the first.

Evelyn trudged on. Though she was accustomed to walking, Sir Charles had been correct in his estimation about the heat. Her pace had slowed considerably under the influence of her stung emotions and the warm afternoon. Her face and neck prickled and her fine carriage dress clung uncomfortably hot against her skin. The scattered bee stings she had suffered on her face and arms raised burning welts. Evelyn thought she had never been so miserable in her life.

Yet worse than her physical misery was the taste in her mouth of bitter disappointment. She had discovered that her ideal of the romantic hero was all-too-flawed. She was in genuine need of rescue, but Sir Charles had failed miserably to rise to the occasion. At the thought, a few more tears fell.

Evelyn was relieved when she at last reached a portion of Bath with which she was familiar. As she walked up the street fronted by the same shops that she had often patronized, she pretended not to notice the curious stares that her bedraggled and wilted appearance were garnering.

Evelyn had not realized before how awkward an explanation of her situation would be, but now that she had, she was too embarrassed to seek out an acquaintance in one of the shops. If only she would run into one of her particular friends, like Pol or Abigail, or even one of their esteemable parents; but neither Miss Woodthorpe nor Miss Sparrow materialized at the yearning of her thoughts.

Coming to a corner, Evelyn hesitated. She knew how much to the pence that she had in her reticule, and it was woefully inadequate to hire a cab. She thought of hailing a cab anyway and appealing to the driver’s compassion, but she suspected her appearance would scarcely engender trust in her reassurances that the fare would be forthcoming once she had arrived at her destination. She debated tiredly with herself whether embarrassment from asking for help from an acquaintance or shopkeeper would really be as onerous as to continue the long walk, and even half turned so that she could retrace her steps to the shops that she had passed. But the thought of going back was awful to contemplate.

Once more close to tears, Evelyn thought longingly of home. Never had the familiar walk to Queen Square seemed so distant.

Chapter Twenty-four

Mr. Hawkins was finishing up his errands and was about to climb back up into his carriage when he caught sight of a familiar figure across the road. He stared hard, then swore under his breath. Dodging through the light traffic, he crossed quickly over. Gently he took the young woman’s arm. “Miss Dower!”

Evelyn turned and at sight of his concerned face, she quite suddenly burst into tears. With all the naturalness in the world she buried her face in his shoulder. “Oh, Mr. Hawkins! How h-happy I am to s-see you!”

Mr. Hawkins did not think that she sounded particularly ecstatic, but he reserved the thought to himself. He awkwardly patted her shoulder, never having had to deal with a weeping female before and feeling himself inadequate to the task, when what he really wanted to do was to enfold her comfortingly in his arms.

Mr. Hawkins exerted a manful control upon his emotions. “There, there, Miss Dower. Everything will be better presently, I promise you.”

Evelyn hiccupped and let go of his lapel. Her eyes averted, she requested in a muffled voice for his handkerchief. He obliged, and she wiped her eyes and blew her nose.

“I do apologize, Mr. Hawkins. I am not generally such a water—watering pot,” she said in a choked voice. She held the soiled linen uncertainly, staring at it. “I shall—shall wash this for you.” She wadded up the handkerchief and fumbled open her reticule to stuff it inside.

“But what has happened to so overset you?” asked Mr. Hawkins. His observant eyes had already seen the signs of previous tears and the red welts on her face. Now as he took note of the sudden tide of color into her face, his eyes darkened. His fingers tightened on her elbow. “Evelyn, are you perfectly all right?”

There was an urgent note in his voice.

Evelyn looked up quickly. The tide of color rose again in her face at the question in his hard blue eyes. “Yes, of course I am!”

She glanced around, suddenly very much aware of a disapproving stare from an unknown lady. “Mr. Hawkins, could we possibly continue this conversation elsewhere?”

Mr. Hawkins saw the sense in her request when he also realized that they were gathering curious glances. “Of course, Miss Dower. I apologize for not thinking clearly. My carriage is across the street. I will drive you home.” He took her arm and escorted her over to the gig. He saw that she was seated comfortably before climbing up himself and taking the reins.

As he turned the carriage in the direction of Queen Square, he said with admirable restraint, “I do not mean to pry. Miss Dower, but I do consider myself to be your friend. Your welfare is naturally of concern to me. Won’t you confide in me now?”

“I have been out driving with Sir Charles,” said Evelyn. Her throat closed suddenly with the humiliation she felt.

“Sir Charles,” repeated
Mr. Hawkins. He kept his eyes trained straight ahead, not wanting the lady to read the fury that rose in him. He considered what bodily harm he would do to that gentleman when next he saw him.

Still not looking at her companion, Evelyn said succinctly, “There was an accident. I did not choose to remain, so I walked back into town.” She threw a fleeting glance up to his profile, dreading that he would ask questions that she preferred not to answer.

“A carriage accident—
Sir Charles!”

The look that Mr. Hawkins threw her was one of incredulous astonishment.

Evelyn hastened to reassure her companion. “He is perfectly well.” She paused a fraction of an instant. “And so are his horses.”

Mr. Hawkins digested this for a moment, having sensed a strong undercurrent of emotion in her voice that he did not understand. Leaving it for the moment, he said, “How comes it that Sir Charles did not accompany you into Bath?”

Evelyn bit her lip, turning away her face. Again the humiliation burned her. “He—he did not want to leave his horses, and I was too impatient to simply wait, so I volunteered to come instead to alert someone of the accident.” She looked round at Mr. Hawkins. “I suppose that you will send someone for him?”

“I will certainly do so. Your duty is fully discharged, Miss Dower,” said Mr. Hawkins gravely. His mind was rife with questions arising out of what little she had said. The original conclusion that he had leaped to that Sir Charles had forced his attentions upon her was now discarded, but he gathered that it was a delicate matter nevertheless and so he was careful in his probing. “Er—how did this accident occur, Miss Dower?”

“We drove into a cloud of bees before we became aware of them. I had the reins, and when the horses bolted I could not contain them,” said Evelyn shortly.

Mr. Hawkins shot her a sharp glance. “Did I understand you correctly?
You
had the reins?” It was unbelievable, if true. Sir Charles must have become so besotted with her that he had lost his senses, he thought savagely.

Evelyn straightened her spine, her heightened sensitivity having caught his astonishment. She threw him a challenging glance and said with dignity, “Sir Charles was teaching me to drive.”

“I am certain that you were a very apt pupil,” said Mr. Hawkins soothingly. His mouth quirked. “That is, before the descent of the irate bees.”