Читать книгу Being Wicked - Lacy Danes - Страница 6

Somewhere on a road in England, 1828

God preserve those with good souls….

The muscles of her back ached as another jarring rut tossed her head against the hard wall of the carriage. She clenched her teeth together and held in a squeak. What a harebrained idea this was…. Bless the Lord, she was small.

In the end, this impropriety would only turn to good. She would prove both their relatives and the townsfolk wrong—in her mind, she would. No one could ever know she’d done this.

Brian was a proper gentleman—not the rogue bent on pleasure. His trips to the capital were for his new responsibilities, not to squander the family money and sow his oats.

His sullen, tired look of late had concerned her and a small doubt spiraled its way into her head. The carriage rocked to a stop. Had they made it to their destination? Wherever that was. She didn’t think she could last much longer confined in this box. She peeked out the crack in the top of the bench. Her brother did not move, but the carriage lurched to the left as someone clambered on board.

“By Jove, Cunnington! Could you be any later?” a gravelly voice sounded through the muffled carriage seat.

“Only a touch, St. Jerome.”

A loud, deep laugh erupted.

St. Jerome! Surely, her brother did not associate with that rake! She closed her eyes and imagined Brian helping her learn French. No, she surely misheard. She opened her eyes, pushed up from the floor of the carriage, and placed her ear to the crack in the seat.

“Are we to pick up Amelia or will she be meeting you at the rout?”

“No Amelia. I let her go,” St. Jerome replied.

“Oh, you mean her handsome legs and even finer skills are available?”

Lilly smothered her gasp into her bicep. She had never heard Brian talk in such a way. Maybe this was all for show because that scoundrel St. Jerome was present.

“Quite so, but not for you, louse. With your family looming over your every move, she would ruin you.” St. Jerome chuckled.

Oh, dash it! It was St. Jerome. The mill had been churning for the past week with his most recent, not so quiet, break from Amelia, his mistress. But what in all of England was her brother doing associating with such a rogue? Maybe he was out to save St. Jerome’s soul. But from the sounds of it…that was the furthest thing from his mind. Her chest tightened.

Could the townsfolk have been right? Was her brother on a path straight to damnation?

No! She shan’t let all those lies turn her against him. Oh, if they only knew the true him—the one that played with the kittens in the barn and sat patiently while she painted his likeness for the umpteenth time. He couldn’t be only after loose virtue, stiff drinks, and cards. She strained to hear their conversation as the carriage rocked to a halt and another male entered.

“We are three…,” said a jovial voice she didn’t recognize one whit.

“Indeed. We are off to the ball for some excellent liquor, and even finer pleasure.” St. Jerome’s laughing tone raised every fine hair on her neck.

God preserve her. They were headed to a ball. How in the world would she get into a ball uninvited and unmasked? Her brother would notice her at one glance.

The locals called her a pure beauty, but they were simply kind. Nothing of any significance claimed her features. She possessed the meager looks of their mother, someone that Lilly’s pa had always scolded for not presenting herself well to anyone. “Make yourself presentable…if that is womanly possible,” his angry voice bellowed at her mother. Each of his words had made her mother flinch and tears spring to Lilly’s eyes. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed repeatedly.

She had loved her father, though he was firm with her, and she had seen moments of his kindness to their mother. Those were the moments that she hoped for in her match. If she ever did make a match, she wanted someone who would be kind and gentle and teach her the things she needed to know.

She had yet to make her debut in town because of her mother’s always failing health, and she had no real desire to put herself forth in such a manner anyhow. Being rejected for something she had no control over would simply be bothersome. She sighed and her stomach pinched.

No, it would hurt.

She closed her eyes as the carriage swayed to a stop once more.

“Who have you set your Abraham weeping for, Cunnington?” the stranger’s voice inquired laughingly.

“Not one of your wicked girls skilled with the art of flogging, Devonton, that is for certain.”

Chills raced along her spine. Lord Devonton! He was the worst rogue of all! Her heart sank to the pit of her stomach. Her brother sat knee to knee with two of England’s biggest and most notorious rogues.

“Certainly not, Cunnington! One hit with the switch, and you would be crying like an infant.”

The switch…that was true. Brian had cried and yelled like an infant when their nurse had punished him. His shouts grew louder and louder with each hit. She pursed her lips. Why would Lord Devonton wish a woman to birch him? Surely, he couldn’t find pleasure in such an act. If true, the information would explain his reputation. An exasperated sigh pushed past her lips.

What was Brian doing with men of this ilk? He was a gentleman through and through. She could see how the townsfolk thought him scandalous when he consorted with the likes of these men. He plainly had another reason for befriending them. What could it be?

The carriage door opened and joyous music and laughter floated in. She cringed. There was no way she would be able to gain entrance to this event. A frown turned her lips. What was she thinking when she crawled into the blanket box? Daft, truly daft, Lilly.

The only coins in her pocket this night were her unnoticeable looks and that no one of this ilk knew her at all. Maybe she could sneak in the servants’ entrance…but then what? Her attire certainly was not for a formal evening, and if she did gain entrance, she would never fit in with this set. Oh, and what would she see? His company on this ride sent icy fear straight to her heart.

She needed a plan.

The sway to the side and the sudden lack of noise, followed by the lurching forward of the carriage again, indicated all had left the cab. The driver would pull over and stop on the street someplace and wait for her brother.

She would exit the carriage before they stopped and the footmen took notice of her. From this point on tonight, what came her way came.

Sweat pierced her brow and Lilly pushed up against the seat bottom and lifted the lid to the blanket compartment. She peered out—her heart in her throat—into the cab of the carriage.

No one was present.

She eased herself up with her arms. Her legs ached from the crouched position she held since they had left Rousemore Hall in Bedfordshire late that afternoon. Her body shook and she strained her body, which did not want to respond to her will to move. She concentrated all her energy on lifting her leg up and over the edge. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth and strained slowly. Her leg lifted up over the edge and pins shot straight through to her toes.

Ouch! She lurched forward and landed on the opposite seat, her legs in searing pain. She sighed as the carriage swayed around a corner. This was her chance. She could not wait for the pain in her legs to subside. She grasped the door handle in her gloved hand and pushed it wide. The ground rolled by before her. She closed her eyes and sucked in a large breath. Jump, Lilly, jump. She sprang out of the carriage.

Her slippered feet hit the cobbled drive and slid straight back. Her arms flew out. Hands slapped into the hard, cold cobbles and a shooting pain burst through her knees.

Ouch!

She never was good at climbing or jumping as a child, and age had not improved that skill.

She pushed up from the cobbles and stood, staring at the side of a large country house and its stables, which surrounded her. She grimaced and her gaze dashed around the stable yard. Footmen rushed about, but none of them glanced her way. She sighed in relief and her shoulders sagged. Hide, you silly! They will see you if you shan’t. Bushes lined the edge of the house and she scurried to hide behind them.

No one had seen her escape from her brother’s carriage. She pressed herself up against the rough stone house as branches of the boxwood scraped against the muslin of her sleeve. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and she swallowed hard. Her body pulsed with the beat of her heart and she blew out a tight breath.

She was not in London. Sweat pierced her brow. What was she to do now?

She couldn’t sneak off to Burber Place, the family London home. She was alight someplace and she had no clue where she was! Sweat pierced the skin on the back of her neck.

Foolishness, Lilly, foolishness. She shook her head. Take a deep breath and get your bearing. You can always sleep in the barn if need be. She inhaled the crisp night air and smelled the scent of horses, hay, and smoke from the chimneys floating on the slight breeze.

She would sneak into the house and find something to wear. She closed her eyes again. What a blunder you have gotten yourself into. Silly, silly, Lilly. A deep sigh escaped from her lips and she straightened her shoulders. No going back now. She was here and so was her brother. She would prove the townsfolk wrong.