Wishing For Rainbows (Historical Romance) (9 page)

“You would be better off staying here, in front of the fire,” Trenton said cautiously.

Ursula glared at him. “I have been cosseted, coddled, and fussed over so much that if I spend another minute beside the fire I shall go grey and cantankerous, and quietly out of my mind. I need to do something, Trenton. This inertia is driving me to distraction. This involves me; even more so after last night. I simply refuse to stay at home and do nothing.”

Trenton thought about that for a moment. He didn’t want to seem as though he was taking over her life but she still looked shaken from her ordeal last night. The last thing he should do was drag her half-way around London. However, given what she had just said he couldn’t exactly order her to remain at home like she was some half-wit.

“Alright,” he said. “I have my curricle outside so we should be able to keep up with whoever delivers them. If you fetch your shawl now then we can be ready when the arrangement is delivered.”

Ursula stared at him for a moment, stunned that he had given in so easily. She had expected an argument, not ready acceptance.

“Are you sure?” The words were out before she could stop them.

Trenton smiled when he read the gratitude in her eyes, and was glad that he had capitulated so easily. “I am sure,” he replied, and let out a soft laugh when she scurried out of the room in search of her shawl before he could change his mind.

By the time she reached the hallway, a delivery man was passing the arrangement through the door to Isaac. She quickly called Trenton, who issued a few instructions to Isaac before he swept her out to his curricle.

“Are we going to be able to keep up with him?” She asked as she craned her neck to see the delivery man.

“He has just turned right at the end of the road,” Trenton replied, lifting a hand to a coachman who stopped to let them join the traffic. “If we can get clear of these carriages we should be able to get within a few feet of him and stay close. As long as he doesn’t look back and notice us, we should be fine,” Trenton replied absently as he guided his curricle out of the end of the road.

Ursula was so busy trying to keep her gaze on their quarry that she didn’t notice the interested glances they drew from several passers-by. In particular, the rather spiteful gazes of Barbarella Somersby and Roger Brampton, who were riding in Brampton’s curricle in the opposite direction.

Trenton did though, but carefully kept his gaze averted. Right now, it was more important that he discover who had set about attempting to win Ursula’s favour with such determination. He wasn’t going to even think about Brampton or Barbarella. Although he would not say as much to Ursula, something was most definitely wrong with the sender of the flowers remaining a mystery. He just had to find out why he wanted to remain hidden; preferably before the intruder, if he was connected, made a return visit.

Half an hour later, Trenton pulled the curricle over to the side of the road. He handed Ursula down and held his elbow out for her in a gentlemanly fashion that was more fitting for an afternoon stroll rather than the quest they were on. Nevertheless, Ursula smiled her thanks as she took his elbow.

They followed the delivery man toward the Covent Garden area. Determined to stop him before he went any further, Trenton quickened his pace.

“Please, sir. Might I have a word with you?” Trenton said as he hurried past, and planted himself squarely in the man’s path.

“Who are you?” the man asked warily, eyeing both Trenton and Ursula’s clothing suspiciously.

Trenton ignored the question and got straight to the heart of the matter. “My friend here has been receiving small arrangements of posies from you recently. One a day for the last three weeks in fact,” Trenton explained. He knew from the gleam in his eye the man knew exactly what he was talking about. “You just delivered one.”

“And?” The man asked cautiously. “Ain’t no crime, is it?”

“No, it is no crime,” Trenton agreed. “It is just that there have been some rather startling developments at that house recently. We need to know why you are sending the flowers.”

“It ain’t me, guvnor,” the man protested quickly. “I was paid to do it.”

“Who paid you?” Trenton sighed at the wariness on the man’s face. He suspected the truth would be hard to come by, but continued anyway. “I should be obliged if you could give me their direction. I need to speak with them.”

The man hesitated for a moment. “Well, I don’t rightly know who they are.”

“Do they come to pay you daily or weekly?” Trenton persisted.

The man frowned. “What kind of startling developments have there been?”

“There has been a break in at the house you just delivered to.”

The man jerked and looked at him in alarm. “Well, it weren’t me.”

Trenton nodded. “I know. I am not suggesting for a moment that it was. However, we think it might be the sender of the flowers; the man who paid you. It is a little unusual for arrangements to be sent each day for three whole weeks, yet the sender hasn’t seen fit to give her his name,” Trenton argued. “Given the break-in last night, I am sure you can understand our concerns that the sender may not have honourable intentions.”

The man considered that for a moment and appeared to come to the same conclusion. After several moments of quiet contemplation he shrugged unconcernedly.

“He comes to see me every other day. He gives me the cards and pays me extra to deliver the posies to her door.” He eyed Ursula curiously.

“Has he paid you for tomorrow?”

The man nodded, and drew a small card out of his jacket pocket. He handed it to Trenton and then stood back to resume his perusal of Ursula. She tried not to squirm beneath that penetrating gaze and turned her attention to the card Trenton held. It was penned in exactly the same script as the cards in the study at Adelaide’s house. She looked at Trenton who nodded thoughtfully at her.

“Do you have his direction?” Trenton asked hopefully.

Unsurprisingly, the man shook his head.

“He came to find you at Covent Garden?”

“My daughters sell them there. He approached my eldest one day and asked her to deliver a posy to your house.” He nodded to Ursula. “I did it ‘cos it ain’t something I want her doing.”

“Can you remember what he looked like?” Trenton asked. “I take it that a man arranged for them to be delivered?”

The man jerked. “Did you expect it to be a lady?” he asked in astonishment.

Ursula winced. “No.”

“What did he look like? Can you remember?” Trenton was positive the man must know something.

“Well, he was fairly nondescript I suppose. He was about your height, ma’am, and had dark hair.”

“Was his voice cultured?” Trenton was still reluctant to relinquish the idea that it could be someone from Yorkshire.

“He spoke like you, yes,” the man countered.

“What colour were his eyes?” Ursula asked, but sighed in defeat when the man merely shrugged.

“I don’t know, I didn’t notice, and that’s a fact.” Clearly growing bored with so many questions, the man looked impatiently at them and shifted his weight as though eager to be on his way. “Is there anything else?”

“Yes, please don’t send any more,” Ursula replied snippily. “I don’t know who the sender is, and the flowers are certainly not welcome. Please don’t put yourself to the time or the trouble.”

“But I have already been paid to send tomorrow’s,” the man protested.

“Then keep the money to one side, with the card. If the man returns and wants to know why the flowers haven’t been delivered, please give him my card and tell him to call upon me at his earliest convenience. If he doesn’t come back within, say, a week, then keep the money and make a profit,” Trenton ordered.

“Please don’t send any more,” Ursula added. “I really don’t want them. They are making me nervous because I don’t know who is paying you for them.”

The man looked at her somewhat sympathetically. “Then I shall refrain from delivering again,” he replied briskly.

Satisfied that they had done all they could for now, Trenton thanked the man and escorted Ursula back out to the curricle. Once she was settled aboard he turned the conveyance around, but headed in the opposite direction to Adelaide’s house.

“Do you want to go for a drive before we head back?”

Delight coursed through her at the prospect, not least because it meant she could spend a little time with Trenton. She nodded enthusiastically and settled back against the seat, a little awed at just how much she loved to be with him. Although she warned herself that it would be best if she kept her distance from him, there was no harm in taking a short ride in the carriage with him, was there?

As they trundled along, she tried to keep her gaze off the road beneath them. She had never ridden in a curricle before and it was as worrying as it was unnerving. They were so high off the ground that she was positive they were going to tip over at any moment, but of course they didn’t. Instead, they rode through one street after another until she began to relax against the plush seat to savour the sights and sounds of London. Being so high gave her an entirely different perspective to the one she had walking along the crowded pavements. It gave her the rare opportunity to study her surroundings without having to think about every thought and movement, and it was wonderfully liberating.

“Are you warm enough?” Trenton murmured, smiling at the delight on her face.

“I am fine, thank you. This is wonderful,” she enthused. Unabashed, she grinned openly at him before she turned her attention back to the passing scenery.

“I often come this way when I want some time to myself to think,” he confessed with a smile when they were many miles from Adelaide’s house.

“It’s wonderful just to be free for a while,” she replied. She threw him a somewhat rueful glance. “I have to confess that I haven’t seen much of London while I have been here.”

“Have you not? Why?” he asked, startled by her confession.

“I have seen a lot of people’s drawing rooms, ball rooms, music rooms, but nary a theatre or any of the sights. I have yet to see the Tower of London properly, and have only glanced at Covent Garden while passing on the way to a ball.”

“Then we shall endeavour to change that before you return to Yorkshire,” he declared firmly. “I should be honoured if you would allow me to show you the sights while you are here.”

If only so I can spend some time with you and further our acquaintance without the prying eyes of the ton watching,
he added silently
.

Now that he had spent some time in her company, he wanted to know all there was to know about the girl who had grown into a stunningly beautiful woman. It was a little strange to think of Ursula, the somewhat shy young girl he had adored from afar for so long, blazing a trail across London. If he was honest, he wasn’t entirely happy about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her in London; far from it. As far as he was concerned though, the only suitor who was going to show her the sights of London was going to be him. He didn’t want anyone else to spend any time with her and if the gossips began to speculate about them, so be it.

“Would you allow me to escort you around the sights while you are here?” he asked again when she didn’t appear to have heard him.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded when he saw her hesitate. “I promise I shall be a good guide.”

“I would love you to,” she replied honestly. “I just don’t want to cause you any problems by being seen out with me.”

“We are old acquaintances,” he countered. “What difficulty could there be in my showing you London while you are here?”

“Well, your fiancé might not like it,” she replied with an air of reluctance. Even saying the words hurt. It was ridiculous really because Trenton had never been hers in the first place. She was aware that her voice betrayed the emotion she struggled to hide but she couldn’t take the words back.

“Barbarella?”

“I am not suggesting anything untoward in your offer,” she added quickly. “It is just that you are engaged and, well, nobody knows me. As far as anyone is concerned, I am a single, unchaperoned female.” She gestured to the curricle they sat in. “Knowing London and its strictures, I am probably committing several scandalous faux pas just sitting here like this with you.”

“Well, I don’t know about you but I see no reason in giving any gossips the opportunity to object. People will talk about others behind their backs, you know, no matter what they do. People will often criticise others, just because they can. They even talk about people who are generally considered to have done nothing worth talking about. I don’t think you should concern yourself over gossip given that you are due to go back to Yorkshire shortly.”

“Oh, but I am not returning just yet,” she countered. “Aunt Adelaide has asked me if I would like to stay with her for a while longer, and I have accepted.”

“What does your father have to say about it?” he asked. Given his last conversation with Jeremiah, he doubted that the man had even been consulted about the decision, much less been given the opportunity to give his permission.

“Father doesn’t get a say,” Ursula snorted.

His brows shot up. “Are you sure?” He immediately winced when she glared at him.

“I am not some meek mannered miss who needs to be cosseted throughout the day. I am four and twenty, and perfectly capable of making my own mind up about where I want to go thank you very much,” she snapped.

“I am not suggesting otherwise,” Trenton soothed. “It is just that I understand your father gave you one month to find a husband or he would select one for you.”

“I shall do no such thing,” she bit out coldly. “I am not going to be forced up the aisle by my father, or anyone else for that matter. Aunt Adelaide has offered me a place to live. I shall stay there until father sees sense and ceases with his ridiculous notion that I need to be married.”

Trenton knew he had touched on a raw nerve from the outraged look on her face, and lapsed into thoughtful silence while she calmed down.

“Have you informed your father of your decision yet?” he asked after several moments of stilted silence.

She had the good grace to look a little sheepish. “I haven’t written to inform him, no. It has only just been decided. What with the break in last night, and the mystery over the flowers, it completely slipped my mind.”

Trenton suspected she wasn’t telling him the truth but decided not to push. “Well, now that you will be in London for longer, I shall endeavour to show you as much as I can.”

As if to prove his point, he drew the curricle to a stop at the side of the road and handed her down.

“Now, tell me what you think about Covent Garden,” he murmured as he led her through a high brick arch into a huge square that was literally packed full of people.

She gasped and stared about them in rapt wonder. A laugh escaped her when a flower seller held out a small bouquet, asking for a penny a posy. Instinctively shaking her head, she was about to turn away when Trenton handed the old woman a coin.

He bowed and smiled into Ursula’s eyes as he handed her the small bouquet of poses.

“A small token from me to you,” he said as he handed them to her. “At least with me, you know who sent them,” he declared only half-joking.

“They are wonderful, thank you,” she smiled, deeply touched. For some reason this simple gesture meant considerably more to her than the numerous arrangements that kept turning up at Adelaide’s house every day.

“Chestnuts?” he mused wryly.

“Pardon?” She smiled happily, and linked arms with his when he held a gentlemanly elbow out to her.

“Would you like some?” He nodded to the stall holder selling little packets of them and handed him some coins. “Careful; they are hot,” he cautioned as he handed her a packet of the steaming treat.

As they ate, they stopped to watch street performers, artists, and flower sellers trading their wares. The sight, sounds, colours, and utter chaos of the tightly packed square was as overwhelming as it was delightful. She loved every moment of it; mostly because she was able to share it with Trenton.