The Dangerous Lord Darrington (14 page)

With sudden decision he stepped into the inn. As he entered the coffee room he saw Beth sitting at a small table by the window, her maid beside her. She looked up and saw him just as she was taking a sip of coffee and immediately choked, spilling some on the sleeve of her pelisse. Her reaction gave him a certain amount of satisfaction.

‘I beg your pardon, Mrs Forrester, did I startle you?’ asked Guy, urbanity itself. He handed her his handkerchief and she began to mop at the coffee stain on her sleeve.

‘I did not expect to see you here, my lord.’ Her normally level voice was strained and she was looking decidedly nervous.

‘I am come to meet someone,’ he replied, sitting down at her table. ‘What about you?’

‘I—um—I am going to Ripon.’

‘Ah, yes. To buy your trousseau.’

‘Yes, I am.’ She had regained her composure. ‘How is Mr Davies? I trust the journey was not too distressing for him?’

‘He managed it very well, thank you.’ Guy patted his pocket. ‘He is sufficiently recovered to send me out to buy a fresh supply of snuff. How long do you stay in Ripon?’

‘I am not sure…’ She looked up as the landlord approached.

‘The London Mail will be here any minute, ma’am.’

Guy’s brows shot up. ‘London?’

Beth’s cheeks flamed. He could read the indecision in her face and was inordinately pleased when she decided not to lie to him. She put down her cup.

‘I have had word from our lawyer,’ she said in a low voice. ‘He has news of the de Beaunes, the witnesses to my brother’s actions in Portsmouth. They are in England.’

Guy frowned. ‘You cannot go to London alone.’

‘I am not alone. I have my maid with me.’

‘That is not what I mean. To travel such a long way by mail—you would be safer in your own carriage.’ Something in her face made him say quickly, ‘Does Lady Arabella know you are travelling to London?’

She hesitated. ‘I told Sophie…’

‘That is not what I asked, madam.’

‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘She thinks I have gone to Ripon, to stay with Maria.’ When he did not speak she spread her hands. ‘What choice do I have? Simon is not well enough to travel. I must find these people and talk to them. Their testimony will clear Simon’s name.’

‘Then you should take Radworth into your confidence. He is, after all, your future husband.’

Her lips were pressed tightly together and there was a closed look on her face that gave him his answer. Guy gave an exasperated sigh.

‘By heaven, madam, you cannot do this!’

She raised her chin. ‘But I can, my lord, and I will. I have my ticket, and I shall go. This is not your concern. There is nothing you can do or say to stop me.’

Guy bit back a sharp retort. A movement in the yard caught his eye and he looked up to see a mud-splashed mailcoach sweeping past the window. Abruptly he rose.

‘You are right. It is none of my concern,’ he said curtly. ‘I wish you good fortune, madam.’

Guy strode out into the yard and ran across to the mail. Moments later he was helping Mrs Bletchworth to alight.

‘Darrington!’ Julia Bletchworth squealed with delight as she descended from the carriage, trailing shawls, reticules and a very large swansdown muff in her wake for her maid to pick up. She threw her arms around him, oblivious of the stares and grins she received from the other travellers.

‘Julia.’ Guy returned her embrace, laughing. ‘You haven’t changed a bit, I see. Still a hoyden!’

‘No, no, I am very respectable now, I assure you, only seeing you again takes me back to my girlhood, when you and Davey were grubby schoolboys and used to delight in tormenting an older sister! How are you, Guy—not married yet?’

‘No, Julia, and not like to be. My carriage awaits us over there.’

He walked her across to the travelling chariot, sidestepping to avoid the ostlers who were hurrying to change the horses on the brightly coloured mailcoach. She patted his arm.

‘One day, my dear, you will meet someone who will help you forget that horrid Bellington woman, I know it.’

‘She is forgotten already,’ he said lightly.

‘Now you are cross with me and are wishing you had not come to meet me,’ she said, laughing up at him. ‘Very well, we will not talk of it. Tell me instead how my dear brother goes on.’

‘His leg is mending well, but you will have the devil’s own job to stop him getting up too soon.’ He handed her into the carriage, then stepped back to oversee the loading of her two heavy trunks.

‘Well, between us we shall manage him, I am sure,’ she said when he returned to the carriage door.

‘Ah, but you see I am leaving in the morning. I—’ He broke off as the landlord put up a shout for the London Mail. Guy looked around and spotted a familiar figure coming out of the inn. ‘Excuse me a moment, Julia.’

He strode towards the mailcoach where passengers were lined up to embark.

‘Mrs Forrester, can I not persuade you postpone your trip until you have an escort?’

One of the guards came forwards for her bag and she handed it over. She bit her lip, her huge dark eyes fixed on his face.

‘Come on, missus, we ain’t got all day!’

The rough voice of one of the passengers standing behind her startled Beth. She gave her head a little shake.

‘No, I cannot delay. Excuse me.’ Hurriedly she followed her maid into the coach.

Guy turned on his heel and walked back to his own chariot, shaking his head over the impossibility of reasoning with headstrong women. It was not his concern, he reminded himself. And many women made the journey to London without coming to any harm. Still, the feeling of unease would not leave him.

‘Well, now, can we be away from here?’ demanded Julia as he came up. ‘I vow I am impatient to reach Highridge.’

Guy put his hand on the open door.

‘I am not coming with you, Julia.’ Ignoring her astonished look and outraged demands for an explanation he issued a few, brief instructions before hurrying off to find the bookkeeper.

Chapter Ten

B
eth made herself comfortable in one corner of the coach, her maid sitting nervously beside her. There was only one other inside passenger, a stout, haughty-looking gentleman who cast a disapproving look at Tilly, which made the poor girl ask Beth in an urgent whisper if she should go and sit up top.

‘Upon no account,’ returned Beth, directing a defiant look at her fellow passenger. ‘I have paid for your ticket and want you beside me.’

The man sniffed and pulled out his watch. ‘Two minutes late!’ He leaned out of the window. ‘Coachman—what is the delay?’

‘No delay, sir,’ replied the driver jovially. ‘We leave when the church clock chimes the hour and not a minute before!’

Even as he spoke Beth heard the bell begin to toll. A shout went up, the coach lurched and swayed as the driver climbed up on to the box and Beth nervously smoothed her skirts, eager to be on her way. There was a sudden commotion, raised voices in the yard and the door beside her was wrenched open. A great-coated figure jumped in and the carriage pulled away even before the door was closed.

‘What are you doing here?’ Beth demanded as the Earl of Darrington made himself comfortable opposite her.

‘I am going to London.’

His bland smile caused anger to replace her astonishment. ‘Impossible!’

‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘I have purchased a ticket.’

‘This is most irregular!’ protested the haughty man. ‘Your name will not be on the waybill!’

Lord Darrington raised his quizzing glass and regarded the protester. ‘On the contrary,’ he said coldly. ‘I purchased my ticket from the bookkeeper and saw the guard write my name on the waybill before we set off. Not, my good man, that it is any business of yours.’

Beth might appreciate this masterly set down, but she was not going to own up to it. She glared at the earl. ‘I have no wish for your company, sir!’

‘You cannot prevent me from riding in this coach, madam.’

She bit her lip. With the haughty man regarding them with undisguised curiosity she was unwilling to embark upon a prolonged argument. She hunched her shoulder and turned to stare out of the window. The streets of Thirsk were soon replaced by open fields, but it could not be said that Beth enjoyed the view afforded her as they bowled along. She was anxious to get to London. She would not allow herself to hope for too much, but if she could find Monsieur de Beaune, if he would speak for Simon, his name might yet be cleared. She glanced across at the earl. He was sitting back in the corner, eyes closed, but she did not believe he was sleeping. Why was he here? She had seen his own carriage in the yard and had watched as he escorted the very dashing matron to it. Why then, should he suddenly buy a ticket for a London mail? Did he wish to torment her? She could not believe he would want to help her, not after the way she had thrown herself at him and been rejected. And yet…

No! Defiantly Beth closed her mind to it. To accept help from the earl would be further humiliation and she would resist that with all her might. She shifted in her seat and the earl’s eyes opened. Beth was very aware that Tilly was asleep beside her and there was a gentle snore from the haughty man in the far corner. Beth knew a moment’s panic—she might as well be alone with the earl.

She turned her head to stare out of the window again. Darrington sighed.

‘It is going to be a very tedious journey if you mean to ignore me, madam.’

‘Then I suggest you alight at the next stage, sir!’

‘No, no, I am determined to help you.’

‘And
I
am determined you shall not!’

He fixed his grey eyes upon her. ‘What, not even for your brother’s sake?’

She glared at him. ‘I do not
need
your help, Lord Darrington. I am perfectly capable of doing this myself.’

He crossed his arms and said with maddening calm, ‘I doubt it.’

He was trying to make her lose her temper, but Beth was not about to let that happen. She said icily, ‘Then follow me if you wish, sir, and I will show you!’

They proceeded to the next stage in a stony silence. Beth thought miserably that she had never spent such an uncomfortable journey. Tilly was slumped against her in a deep slumber, squashing Beth into her seat. The earl lounged in his corner; if he was discomposed by the jolting of the carriage or the haughty man’s sonorous snoring, he showed no sign of it.

The carriage jolted over a particularly uneven section of the highway and rocked precariously. Beth grabbed Tilly and pushed her back into her seat, but the haughty man was thrown heavily against the earl. The man grunted, muttered something that might have been an apology and flung himself back into his own corner.

A shadow of irritation flickered over Lord Darrington’s face. It was gone in an instant, but Beth observed it.

‘Such treatment as this is surely not what you are used to,’ she said sweetly. ‘You will be heartily sick of it by the time we reach London.’

‘But I see no need for us to travel all the way to London with the mail. I have left instructions for my man to pack up a bag for me and to follow on with my own carriage. He should catch up with us by the end of the day.’

‘I hope by then you will have thought better of this idiotic notion to follow me.’

‘Not at all. I hope to persuade you to travel with me in comfort.’

‘I am perfectly happy here, thank you.’ Another violent jolt at that moment sent Beth scrabbling for the strap to prevent herself from crashing against her maid and it gave the lie to her words.

The earl’s mocking smile roused Beth’s fury. Biting her lip, she angrily straightened her skirts and scowled at the passing landscape.

The hours dragged by. The pressure to keep moving meant that the stops to change horses were as short as possible and even though the landlords of the various inns offered the passengers refreshments they barely had time to swallow a cup of coffee before the guard was urging them back into the coach for the next section. It did no good for the haughty man to declare that he had paid for his luncheon and would take it with him; the waiter came chasing after him and wrested away the half a fowl he had wrapped in his handkerchief before he could carry it off. Even the earl’s elevated status counted for very little; the landlord might be persuaded to serve his meal a little quicker, but even he could do nothing once the coachman’s shout of ‘All’s ready’ went up and they were obliged to hurry back to the coach or risk being left behind.

Beth’s surreptitious glances at the earl showed that he, too, was finding the journey irksome and each time they stopped to change horses she half-expected him to jump out and declare he had had enough and would wait for his coach to come by and take him up, but each time they pulled away he was sitting opposite her. And deep within Beth, barely acknowledged, was a sense of relief. She did not want him there, certainly she did not need him, yet all the same she was aware that she did not feel quite so alone.

It was early evening and the low sun was casting long shadows when Beth was roused from her meditations by the blast of a horn. Her first thought was that it was the guard, blowing up for an approaching turnpike, then she noticed that the earl was sitting up, his attention fixed on the window. Beth heard the sounds of a second carriage and looked out to see a team of horses moving past the mailcoach. She watched, enthralled, and heard the earl give a satisfied murmur as his travelling chariot went past, temporarily blocking the light.