Читать книгу Runaway Miss - Mary Nichols, Mary Nichols - Страница 10

The other two passengers taking the inside seats were a young man and his wife who sat holding hands and smiling shyly at each other. They posed no threat and Emma allowed herself to relax.

‘He is a handsome man, is he not?’ Rose commented in a whisper.

‘Who?’

‘The man who gave us his tickets. Did you hear his servant call him “my lord”?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wonder who he is. You do not know him, do you?’

‘No, thank goodness. The last thing I want is to meet someone known to me.’ ‘All the same, it was good of him to give up his seats for us.’

‘Indeed it was. I am sorry I had no time to thank him properly, nor did I offer to pay the difference in the price.’

‘No doubt you will have the opportunity when the coach stops for us to take refreshment.’

‘I shall make a point of it.’

They stopped every fourteen miles to have the horses changed, but the passengers remained in their seats for this operation which only took two or three minutes. It was half past ten and they had been on the road just over two hours when the coach pulled in at the Peahen in St Albans and the coachman invited his passengers to partake of breakfast.

Emma and Rose left the coach and stood in the yard, looking at the inn which had a decidedly unpretentious appearance. Emma, who had never been inside an inn before, was reluctant to enter it, but as it was imperative that she find somewhere to relieve herself, she ducked her head under its low lintel, followed by Rose.

Having made themselves more comfortable in a room set aside for ladies, they found their way to the dining room, where the chivalrous lord and his servant were breakfasting together. Normally this would have struck Emma as strange, but as the whole adventure was out of the ordinary and she herself was travelling with her maid on an equal footing, she paid no heed to it, but approached the pair with a confident step.

‘My lord, I am in your debt.’

Alex looked up at her as if seeing her for the first time. Here was a very tall young lady, scrupulously clean but dressed in a somewhat shabby cloak, beneath which could be seen a striped cotton skirt in two shades of grey. Her hair was almost concealed by a plain straw bonnet tied on with ribbon. But it was not the clothes that commanded his attention, but the strikingly beautiful face. It was a perfect oval, the skin creamy and unblemished. The strong chin, straight nose, wide violet eyes and arched brows were too refined to belong to a servant and the confident way she spoke seemed to confirm she was other than she looked. The slightly high colour of her cheeks betrayed a certain nervousness. He was intrigued.

‘Not at all,’ he said, standing out of politeness, something a real servant would have thought strange, but she seemed to accept it as her due. ‘My pleasure, ma’am.’

It was not often she had to look up to a man, but she did so now. ‘But inside seats cost more than those on the outside, my lord.’

‘A mere fribble. Think nothing of it.’

‘At least tell me to whom I am indebted.’

Oh, that was not the speech of an ill-educated commoner. He smiled. ‘I thought perhaps you knew. You addressed me as “my lord”.’

‘I heard your servant address you thus.’

She was observant too, and quick. ‘So he does, but not always. He has been known to be forgetful and call me Major. I answer as readily to either. Let me introduce myself, seeing there is no one else to do the office. I am Viscount Malvers, one-time Major in the Norfolk Regiment of Foot, at your service.’ He bowed as he would to a lady. She did not seem in the least surprised by this, prompting him to add, ‘May I know your name?’

Emma felt Rose dig her in the ribs, reminding her of her new identity. ‘Oh, I’m no one of any importance at all,’ she said, trying to affect a silly giggle which sounded false in her ears. She decided not to try it again. ‘I am Fanny Draper.’

‘I am pleased to meet you, Miss Draper,’ he said, bowing again. ‘Have you had breakfast?’

‘Not yet.’ She looked about her. All the tables seemed to be full and there were only two waiters dashing between them. ‘Perhaps we shall not bother.’

‘Then please do join me.’ And when she appeared to hesitate, added, ‘Your companion too. You cannot travel for hours without sustenance and it will be some time before we stop again. You will find I can command a more assiduous service than most.’ And with that he clicked his fingers at a passing waiter, who instantly left whatever he had been going to do and approached him. ‘Breakfast for the ladies,’ Alex told him. ‘Coffee, ham, eggs, toasted bread and butter, and be quick about it. Time is pressing.’

Rose laughed and it was Emma’s turn to nudge her with her elbow. She stopped instantly and they took the other two seats at the table and were soon enjoying a hearty breakfast. Emma was surprised how hungry she was. Perhaps it was the effect of the high emotion of the past few hours, or perhaps because she had missed supper at Almack’s while she had been in the ladies’ room contemplating her reflection and had eaten nothing since six o’clock the previous evening.

Alex watched her, a faint smile playing about his lips. ‘Do you travel beyond Manchester, Miss Draper?’

The last thing she wanted was to be quizzed on her destination, but she could hardly refuse to answer without appearing uncivil. ‘Yes, we are going to the Lake District.’

‘What a happy coincidence. So am I. Which lake in particular?’

‘I am not sure there is a lake. I am to be met at Kendal to take up a position as companion to a lady.’ For a spur-of-the-moment answer she thought it did very well, though she prayed he would not ask any other questions. To prevent that, she asked one of her own. ‘Where are you bound, my lord?’

‘To Windermere. I have an uncle there. I used to stay with him when I was a boy, but it is many years since I visited him.’

‘I expect you were prevented by your being in the army.’

‘Yes. I was out of the country from ’09 to ’14 and I had barely been home six months when I was recalled to go to Waterloo.’

‘I believe that was a prodigious gory battle. I heard the Duke of Wellington called it a close-run thing.’

He smiled, knowing perfectly well what she was at and prepared to humour her. If he wanted his curiosity about her satisfied, he would have other opportunities. ‘Yes, he did and it was certainly that.’

‘Did you sustain any injury yourself?’

‘Fortunately, no.’

‘And now you are home again and ready to resume your civilian life. No doubt you find it strange.’

‘Indeed, I do. I am fortunate in having a home and occupation to return to. Many others are not so lucky.’

‘Occupation, my lord?’ she queried.

‘An estate to run. I have recently come into my inheritance.’

‘And is that in the Lakes?’

‘No, in Norfolk.’

‘You are a long way from home, my lord.’

He laughed. ‘Is that meant as a criticism, Miss Draper?’

She blushed furiously. ‘Oh, no, I would not dare…I beg your pardon. My mother always used to say I had too much curiosity.’

‘I forgive you. And so that you do not run away with the idea that I shirk my duty—’

‘Oh, I never would!’

‘I will tell you that my uncle is ill and wishes to see me. Once I have satisfied myself as to his return to good health, I shall go home.’

‘Not back to the London Season?’

‘No, I do not think so, I find it not to my taste.’ The evening before he had returned with his aunt from Lady Melbourne’s to find a message from his mother telling him his uncle, Admiral Lord Bourne, was very ill and wanted to see him. He had always been close to his Uncle Henry, closer than to his father, and had corresponded with him throughout his years in the army and so he had made preparations to take the early morning coach north. He had sent a message to his new steward to go at once to Buregreen to make a start on the work of the estate and written a letter to his mother telling her he was leaving for the north at once and would write again as soon as he arrived. Joe was told to pack and make sure he was awake in good time to catch the stage.

He did not need his own carriage while he was in London and staying with his aunt, so the family carriage had been left at Buregreen for his mother’s use and was not available. Besides, the stage, with its facility for the frequent changing of horses, would have him there all the quicker. He hadn’t bargained for riding outside, but he could hardly let two young women sit on the roof while he sat in comfort inside.

Both girls had finished eating, so he beckoned the waiter to pay the bill.

‘Oh, my lord, we cannot allow you to buy our breakfast, can we, Rose?’

Rose didn’t see why not, but she dutifully answered, ‘No, my—’ She stopped herself just in time and quickly added, ‘—Goodness, no.’

‘If you think I am such a pinchpenny as to invite two ladies to eat with me and then expect them to pay, you are mistaken, madam.’

‘And if you think I am to be bought, then you are the one in error, my lord.’

Instead of being affronted, he laughed. She was no plain everyday companion. She had been brought up a gentlewoman, or something very near it. He was on the point of taxing her with it, but changed his mind. It would provide a little entertainment on a long, tedious journey to watch how she went on and how long she could keep it up. ‘I do not want to buy you, Miss Draper. To be sure, I have no use for a lady’s companion. Now let us call a truce.’ He handed the waiter a handful of coins, telling him to keep the change, which pleased the fellow no end and he went off smiling.

Emma, seeing how much it was, turned pale. If all meals on the way were as expensive as that, her money would never last the distance and her pearls would have to go. It would break her heart to part with them, the last reminder of her father. She had loved him dearly and she knew her mother had too. Oh, why did he have to go and die? And why did her mother have to go and marry that horrible Sir George Tasker? Was that why she was so sharp with Viscount Malvers, when it certainly was not his fault?

‘My lord, I beg your pardon. A truce it is and my gratitude with it.’

‘Then let us go back to the coach. I heard them calling for passengers two minutes ago.’ He stood up and was about to pull out her chair for her and offer his arm, but stopped himself. A lady’s companion would not expect such a courtesy and he ought to maintain the pretence until such time as she admitted it was a pretence.

They trooped out to the coach, he saw the ladies safely in and then resumed his seat on the roof beside his man. Joe Bland had been his batman almost the whole of his army career and on being discharged was happy to continue to serve him. They had been through so much together, he was more friend than servant. Now he was grinning.

‘Pray share the jest,’ Alex commanded him.

‘The Long Meg,’ Joe said. ‘If she’s a lady’s maid, I’ll eat my hat.’

‘She said companion, not maid.’

‘What’s the difference?’

‘A companion is something above a maid. Not exactly a servant, but not family either. She is what the name implies, a companion. Such a position usually falls to the lot of spinsters who are gentlewomen but have to earn a living, for one reason or another. The death of the family breadwinner, perhaps, and no likelihood of finding a husband. Their duties are to run errands, fetch and carry, and stay meekly in the background. I doubt they are allowed much time to themselves.’

‘Hmm. Can’t see that one running errands for anyone. I’ll wager half a crown she’s a runaway and, if she is, you could find yourself in a coil for aiding and abetting, my lord.’

‘What you really mean is that you begrudge your inside seat.’

‘No, Major. I’ve travelled in many worse ways, as you very well know. But she’s not what she seems, though I think she is in the way of winding you round her thumb.’

‘Never! No woman will ever do that to me. But I’ll wager you are as curious as I am.’

‘Mayhap. I could try and find out from the other one. Now, she is a servant, I’ll lay odds.’

‘You are probably right, unless the pair of them are putting on a little entertainment for our benefit. I propose to go along with it and see where it leads. We have nothing else to do but enjoy the ride.’

‘If it doesn’t rain,’ Joe muttered gloomily. ‘I begin to wonder if we will ever get a summer. It’s enough to make you wish yourself back in Spain.’

‘I will endeavour to see if we can travel inside when and if the other occupants of the seats leave the coach. To be sure, it will give us time to get to know more of those two.’

Why he was so curious, he did not know. There was something about the tall girl that seized his attention. He had never, to his knowledge, met her before, but he felt as if he knew her, had always known her, and in that knowledge was also mystery, which he found compelling. She was not afraid of him, had met his eyes unashamedly, had conversed intelligently, was self-assured, more than any gentlewoman fallen on hard times ought to be, and yet at the back of those enormous violet eyes was a profound sadness. There was a story there and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

The coach rattled on through the Hertfordshire countryside, making Emma wish she dare stop and go to Pinehill, but that would be the first place Sir George would look once he had ascertained she was no longer in London. She leaned back and refused to look out of the window at the familiar countryside where her childhood had been so happy, in case the sight should make her weep. How was her mother faring? Would her stepfather be bullying her into revealing where her daughter had gone? Mama was dreadfully afraid of her husband, but she would hold out as long as she could. If she could convince Sir George she was as mystified and concerned as he was, she might not suffer too much at his hands. She could even take to her bed with the worry of it all. Yes, that’s what she would do.

‘It’s raining again,’ Rose commented.

Emma opened her eyes and peered through the window. She could see nothing and rubbed the window to clear it of condensation and then all she could see was water beating against the other side and running down the glass in torrents. ‘Oh, dear, those poor men. I’ll wager they wish they had never given us their seats.’

The horses’ swift canter slowed to a trot, as the road became awash and the potholes disappeared, so that the wheels frequently ran into them and everyone on the coach was thrown from side to side. A flash of lightning and a roll of thunder so startled the horses they set off at a mad gallop. Emma reached for the strap and hung on grimly and the young bride opposite her flung herself into her husband’s arms and cried out in terror. They could hear the outside passengers shouting, which included some words not fit for ladies’ ears and then a thumping on the roof above their heads as if all twelve of them were trying to shift their positions. And still the horses galloped on, dragging their cargo with them.

At last the driver regained control and they resumed their steady pace, but the young lady opposite Emma would not be consoled, even though her husband soothed her over and over again. ‘It’s all right, dearest, you are quite safe. And I do believe the rain is easing. We shall soon be in Dunstable. There, there, I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.’ He smiled nervously at Emma as he spoke.

She leaned forward. ‘Pray, do not distress yourself, madam. I admit I was a little nervous myself, but the worst is over. Do dry your eyes and look out of the window. I believe the sun is trying to come out.’

The young lady lifted her head from her husband’s shoulder and smiled weakly. ‘I am s…sorry to be s…such a watering pot. I have never travelled in a public coach before and never without Mama.’

Emma leaned forward, smiling. ‘I’ll tell you a secret. Neither have I.’

‘Then you are very brave.’

‘Not brave, stubborn and too proud to admit to being fearful.’ That, she supposed was true, especially with regard to her present situation, otherwise she would never have set out on this adventure.

They stopped for a change of horses, but did not leave the coach, though Alex climbed down and put his head in the door. Water was dripping off his hat and his shoulders were soaked. ‘Is anyone hurt?’

‘No, we are all in plump currant,’ Emma said. ‘But you are very wet.’

‘Oh, I have been a great deal wetter in my time, ma’am. I shall soon dry when we stop for something to eat.’

‘When will that be?’

‘At Dunstable. We should have been there by now, but it would have been unwise to hurry the horses when you couldn’t see where you were going.’

Emma smiled. ‘They certainly hurried themselves when it thundered.’

‘Yes, and a devil of a job it was to bring them to order. Horses that shy at a rumble of thunder should not be allowed to draw a public coach. I mean to have a word with the proprietor and hope the next set are more reliable.’ With that he disappeared and Emma saw him cross the yard and enter the inn. He came back just as they were ready to set off again.

The remainder of the stretch to Dunstable, through rolling countryside between the Chiltern Hills and Dunstable Downs, was uneventful and they clattered up the High Street and turned under the archway of the White Horse at half past one in the afternoon. Thankfully they stretched their stiff limbs and made a dash for the inn where they were joined by the bedraggled occupants of the outside seats.

The end of May it might have been, but the spring had been so cold and wet, the proprietor had lit a fire in the parlour and soon steaming coats and cloaks were draped around it. Emma looked about for Lord Malvers, but he was nowhere to be seen, though his man, his dark hair plastered to his scalp, had made himself comfortable in the corner nearest the fire and was tucking in to a plate full of chicken, potatoes and gravy. The young man and his bride were in earnest conversation with the innkeeper and were soon conducted upstairs. No doubt they had bespoke themselves a private room.

Emma found a table and they sat down to wait to be served. They had just handed in an order for ham pie and potatoes, the cheapest thing on the menu according to the man who took the order, when the Viscount returned. He had changed his coat and brushed out his hair, though the rain had made it curl even more. He approached Emma. ‘May I join you?’

She could hardly refuse. ‘Please do. We have already ordered our meal.’

‘Ah, I see, that means I am not to be allowed to pay for it.’ Nevertheless he seated himself beside them.

‘No, my lord, you are not. We are perfectly capable of paying our own way.’

‘How independent you are!’

‘You are mocking me.’

‘Indeed I am not. I admire your spunk.’ He turned as the waiter brought the girls’ meal and took his order for pork chops, roast chicken, a fruit pie and a quart of ale.

‘Spunk, my lord?’

‘You do not seem at all distressed by your recent alarming experience.’

She was taken aback for a moment, thinking he must know who she was and had heard about Lord Bentwater’s proposal, but then realised he was talking about the runaway horses. ‘Oh, that. It did not last above two or three minutes and we did not turn over, did we?’

‘No, but it was a near thing.’

She smiled. ‘A close-run thing.’

He laughed. ‘Yes, if you will.’

‘It must have been far worse for those of you travelling on the outside in the rain and wind.’

‘A mite uncomfortable,’ he said laconically.

The waiter came back with a tray loaded with food and Emma’s eyes widened at the sight of it. Her ham pie had barely filled a corner. She watched as he attacked it with gusto.

‘And you need not have endured it if you had not given away your inside seats.’

‘I hope you are not going to bore me with your gratitude all the way to Kendal, Miss Draper. A good deed once done should be forgotten.’

‘By the doer, yes, but the recipient should be thinking of ways to make all right again.’

‘Allowing me to bear you company has made it right.’ He had noticed her looking longingly at the food on his plate and guessed she had very little money. Putting down his knife and fork, he pushed his plate away. ‘Do you know, I am not as hungry as I thought I was. I shall have to send most of the chicken back to the kitchen and I hate waste.’

Rose looked at Emma and Emma looked at Rose, each reading the other’s thoughts. ‘So do I,’ Rose said, knowing Emma would never stoop to admitting such a thing. ‘And it is like to be some time before we stop again. If you have truly eaten your fill…’

‘Oh, I have. Here, let me help you to a morsel.’ And he divided what was left in the dishes between their two plates. ‘But do hurry up. We were so late arriving we are not being given the full hour to eat. Apparently, the schedule is more important than our digestions.’

They had eaten half of it when they were recalled to their seats. Almost reluctantly Emma left the cosiness of the warm room and the company of a gentleman she found strangely beguiling and made her way out to the coach, now with a different team of horses. Followed by Rose, she took her place and was taken aback when Lord Malvers’s servant climbed in and sat opposite her. Lord Malvers joined them and they were away again.

‘You have no objection to my travelling inside with you?’ he asked.

‘My lord, you must think me very particular and singularly lacking in conduct to object to anyone who has paid for his seat.’ She gave a little laugh and added, ‘Twice over.’

‘Then I shall take it you are content with my company.’ He smiled to put her at her ease, but she was wary of him, he could see it in her eyes, such big, expressive eyes. He turned to her companion. ‘What about you, Miss…I am sorry, you have the advantage of me.’

‘Turner,’ she said.

‘Well, Miss Turner, do you think you can suffer me to share your carriage?’

‘My carriage! Goodness, sir, what would I be doin’ with a carriage?’

‘Quite right. Prodigious expensive things they are to keep.’

‘Is that why you travel by public coach, my lord?’ Emma asked him, knowing he was throwing darts at her by teasing Rose. It behoved her to come to the maid’s rescue.

‘You think it miserly of me?’

‘I would never accuse you of miserliness, my lord. I was simply curious.’

‘Again?’

‘Touché.’ She laughed. ‘You do not have to answer me.’

‘No, but there is not much else to do is there? The countryside is too wet and bedraggled to be worth our attention, so we must fall back on conversation. Unless, of course, you prefer silence.’

‘No, my lord. By all means let us converse.’

‘Then I will tell you I did not bother to keep a carriage and horses in town and as my journey was urgent I had no time to go home for it.’

‘Home being in Norfolk?’

‘Yes. Buregreen. It is on the borders of Norfolk and Suffolk, quite near the sea. There are three farms, mainly arable, but with a fair acreage of grazing. Before the war they were productive, but last year the harvest was not good owing to bad weather and this year the climate has been the worst anyone can remember. I doubt there will be a yield at all.’

‘And yet you left it to go to London? Are you not happy at home, my lord?’

‘It is the place I most wish to be, but my mother, bless her dear heart, thought I should find me a wife.’

‘You are not married, then?’

‘No, Miss Draper, I am not. I never had the time or inclination for it.’ It was spoken so emphatically she wondered why he was so adamant.

‘And the London Season bores you.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘You said so yourself, earlier today. Not to your taste, you said. Do you think you will find a bride in the Lakes?’

‘A mermaid, you mean, half-fish, half-woman.’

It was a moment before his meaning registered and then she laughed. ‘Do you always tease, my lord?’

‘Only if I think it will make you smile. It is better than being sombre, don’t you think? Life is too short to take seriously.’

‘We cannot always be laughing. There are times…’ She stopped, afraid to go on. He was looking at her with his head on one side, his blue eyes watching her, waiting for her to give herself away. Well, she would not give him the satisfaction.

‘Yes,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘Times of war, times of bereavement and loss, times when the situation of the poor breaks one’s heart and one is left fuming at the callousness of a society that lets them suffer. It is thinking of such things that demand solemnity.’

‘You evidently think very strongly on that subject.’

‘Yes. Don’t you? Or perhaps you have never had to think about it.’

He was fishing, she decided. ‘Of course I think about it and I wish I could help them, but it is not in my power.’

‘No, you are only Miss Fanny Draper, isn’t that what you told me?’

‘Yes, because that is my name.’

‘My dear girl, I am not disputing it.’ He waited for her reaction, an angry accusation of impertinence, not only for the way he had addressed her, but for doubting her honesty. For a fleeting second he saw it in her eyes and then it was gone.

She wanted to riposte, but decided against it; any show of hauteur might make him suspicious of the truth. It would be better to remain silent. The coach rattled on through a countryside uniformly wet and uninviting. The trees dripped, the roads were covered in mud, the potholes filled with water. There was nothing worth looking at. The inside of the coach was gloomy and she could not see her fellow travellers clearly. She had had hardly any sleep the night before and the swaying of the vehicle was soporific, making her eyes droop. She allowed herself to doze.

She awoke with a start when they stopped to change the horses again. It was like that all the way to Northampton; wake, nod, sleep, but at least they had left London and her stepfather far behind them. She wondered what Lord Malvers would think of her if he knew the truth. He might be disgusted. On the other hand, he might treat her flight as a missish prank and be ready to turn her in. He might also think that, just because she was travelling incognito on a public coach without an escort, he could take liberties. Not that he had tried; so far he had behaved impeccably, but they had a long way to go and anything could happen. Could she keep up this masquerade right to the end? She had to, so much depended on it.

They arrived at Northampton at six o’clock, an hour and a half behind schedule. Alex opened the door and jumped down, turning to help Emma, who was endeavouring to retie the ribbons of her bonnet. ‘There might be time for something to eat and drink, before we go on,’ he said. ‘Though we must make haste. I’m told we are only to be allowed a quarter of an hour.’

They had barely seen to their comfort and ordered tea and bread and butter, the only thing available in the limited time, when they were recalled to their seats. Alex, who had given in to her insistence that she pay for it, wrapped the uneaten food in a napkin and followed them out to the coach. As soon as they were on the way again, he produced the package and offered it to the girls.

‘How clever of you to think of that,’ Emma said, helping herself to a slice of bread and butter. ‘I never would.’

‘I learned in the army never to abandon food,’ he said, glad that her wariness of him had dissipated a little. ‘We never knew when our next meal would be. We often had to eat on the march.’

‘Surely, as an officer, you were not required to march? Were you not mounted?’

‘Some of the time, but I liked to march alongside my men. How could I ask them to walk until they were ready to drop if I did not do the same?’

‘I am sure they appreciated that.’

‘So they did, miss.’ This was said by his servant. ‘If the Major could keep going, so could we.’

‘It must be exciting, going to war,’ Emma said.

‘Exciting,’ Alex mused. ‘I suppose it was sometimes. Sometimes it was terrifying and often just plain boring.’

‘Boring?’

‘Between battles, when we were waiting for something to happen or when we were on a long march from one encounter with the enemy to the next.’

‘What did you do then?’

He laughed. ‘Dreamed of home, wondering if those we had left behind were well. We planned our next strategy, cleaned our weapons, talked of armaments and supplies. Some of the men had their women and families with them and that made it easier for them. Those without families amused themselves in other ways: boxing matches, running races, hunting and fishing, playing cards.’

‘Gambling is an abomination, the ruin of so many lives.’

‘Certainly it can be so, but in moderation it can while away the hours.’

‘Oh, it can indeed do that, my lord. Hours and hours, whole days sometimes.’ She sounded so bitter, he looked sharply at her. Was that the reason she had fallen on hard times? Her own gambling or someone else’s?

‘You have experience of that?’

‘I…Never mind. Tell me about your men. Where are they now?’

‘Scattered to the winds. Some are buried where they fell, others are still serving, gone to America to put down the rebellion there, still more have come home to an England they hardly know. It would not be so bad if the country was grateful, if something was being done to alleviate their distress, but I see little evidence of it.’

‘What do you think should be done?’

‘Employment is what they need, Miss Draper, so they can look after their families and live in dignity.’

‘Is there no employment for them?’

He looked sharply at her. She must have been leading a very sheltered life not to know that unemployment was one of the main issues of the day. And wasn’t she off to take a job herself? He’d lay odds she had never worked before. ‘Not enough,’ he said. ‘And those whose work is on the land are doubly to be pitied considering it has hardly stopped raining all year. There will be little enough grain this harvest time and a poor harvest means poor wages.’

‘Is it the same in the towns?’

‘Nearly as bad. The price of bread will soar. If nothing is done, I fear for the working man.’ Was she simply making conversation, getting him to talk, or did she really not know how things were? A gentlewoman driven to be a companion almost certainly would. It would have been part of the argument for taking up such a post.

‘And woman,’ Rose put in.

He turned towards her. ‘Yes, indeed, Miss Turner. Do you have employment? Are you to be a companion too?’

‘No, my lord. I am going home to help my mother.’

‘Is your home in the Lakes?’

‘No my lord. It is in Chelmsford.’

‘Chelmsford—then what are you doing on a coach going to Manchester?’

‘Keeping Miss Draper company.’

‘And who will keep you company when you have to leave her?’

‘Oh, I shall not need company, my lord. I do not mind travelling alone.’

That gave him food for thought and for a moment he lapsed into silence. If their stations were equal, why did one girl need company and the other not? The answer was, of course, that they were not equal in rank at all. Miss Draper, if that were really her name, was far superior. Was one maid to the other? Then why were they dressed alike? His curiosity deepened.

Emma knew Rose had made a blunder. He was becoming inquisitive and there was a self-satisfied smirk on the face of his man. She did not know what to say to allay his suspicions. She really should not have allowed herself to become involved in conversation with him. What could she say to put him off? Perhaps it would be better not to say anything at all. She had been sitting forward but now, as they stopped for yet another change of horses, she leaned back in her seat and shut her eyes. Perhaps he would take the hint.

Already they had been on the road for twelve hours and there were still many more miles to go before they reached Leicester where, she had been assured, they would be able to put up for the night. Perhaps they would part there; he might go on tonight without stopping or perhaps take a different coach in the morning. But thinking about that made her suddenly aware that she had been glad of his presence, of the way he had gallantly looked after them. He could command instant service at the inns and thought nothing of berating the horse-keeper on the standard of his horses; the very fact that he appeared to be escorting her made her feel more secure.

The latest horses were fresh and the rain had stopped so they made up a little of the lost time. It was ten o’clock and she was dog-tired when the coach pulled into the yard of the Three Crowns in Leicester. Lord Malvers helped her out and took her elbow to guide her into the inn, leaving Joe and Rose to follow. In no time at all his lordship had arranged for a room for her and went with her to inspect it.

‘The bed linen is not clean,’ he told the innkeeper’s wife, who had personally shown them up to the room. ‘Change it at once. And replace the water in that ewer. It is covered in scum. We will dine downstairs while you see to it.’

The woman bobbed a curtsy. ‘At once, my lord.’

Having laid down his orders, he turned to Emma. ‘Come, Miss Draper.’

A little bemused, Emma followed him downstairs, to find Joe and Rose cosily ensconced in the parlour close to the fire where he was regaling her with a gory story of war in Spain.

His lordship ordered a meal, but Emma was almost too tired to eat. Travelling by public coach was very different from going in their own carriage and taking their time about it, very different from going post chaise, though they hadn’t done that since her father died. She suspected her stepfather was not nearly as wealthy as he liked people to believe. And he could not touch her inheritance. Of course! That was it, that was why he was insisting on her marrying Lord Bentwater. They had done a deal over her fortune. How hard would they try to find her? If they caught up with her before she reached Mrs Summers, what would her present escort do? Hand her over, or help her? She was too tired to worry about it, too tired to take part in the conversation.

‘Miss Draper, I am keeping you from your bed.’

‘What? Oh, I am sorry, my lord. What were you saying?’

‘It is of no consequence. Come, I’ll escort you to your room. You need to sleep and we have an early start in the morning.’

She did not argue, but stood up and followed him from the room, Rose bringing up the rear. At the door of the room she turned to thank him, but he brushed her thanks aside. ‘Glad to be of service,’ he said. ‘I am just along the passage. If you need anything, send Miss Turner to wake me. I’ll be with you in an instant.’ He bowed and strode away.

The two girls entered the room and shut the door. The bed linen had been changed and there was fresh water in the ewer and the layer of dust she had noticed earlier had gone. Her bag and Rose’s bundle were on a chest below the window.

Emma sank on to the bed, while Rose unpacked their night things. ‘What do you make of him, Rose?’

‘I don’t know, my lady. In my book, men don’t do favours for nothing and we’ve landed ourselves very much in his debt. What is he going to ask in return?’

‘Perhaps he doesn’t want anything. Perhaps he is simply a knight errant.’

Rose’s reply was a sniff of disbelief.

‘Do you think he believes our story?’

‘Does it matter what he believes?’ She crossed the room with Emma’s nightgown and laid it on the bed.

Emma began unbuttoning her dress. ‘I found myself wondering what he would do if Sir George were to catch up with us before we reached our destination. Should I tell him the truth and throw myself on his mercy?’

‘No, my lady. You don’t know anything about him. He might take advantage. Just think, he is a soldier, used to soldier’s ways…’

‘But I’m sure he’s an officer and a gentleman.’

‘You only have his word for that. Does a gentleman travel with his servant and sit at the same table?’

‘I am travelling with you in the same manner.’

‘That’s different.’

‘How different?’

‘You are not pretending to be a titled lady. Take my word for it, he thinks you are a gentlewoman fallen on hard times and as such ripe for a little sport.’

‘Rose, I refuse to believe that.’

Rose shrugged and helped Emma out of her clothes and slipped her nightdress over her head. ‘Why did he suggest sending me to fetch him in the middle of the night, then?’

She hadn’t thought of that. ‘Oh, Rose, I would never have taken that as an invitation. How glad I am that you came with me.’

She went over to the door and turned the key in the lock and then dragged a chair against it for good measure. There was only one bed and they got into it together. Two minutes later they were both asleep.

Alex prepared for bed in a thoughtful mood. The more he saw of Miss Fanny Draper, the more he was convinced she was not what she seemed. She had started out being prickly as a hedgehog, determined to be independent, but that had lasted only until they reached the Peahen in St Albans. Who was she? Was she, as Joe insisted, a runaway? He had no idea how old she was, but she was not a schoolgirl, so what was she running from? A husband? He hadn’t seen a wedding band. The law? If so, what had she done? Was she simply an intrepid traveller, telling the truth, or a clever trickster, manipulating him into feeling sorry for her in order to part him from his money? If that turned out to be the case, she would find he was not such easy game as she imagined. It was a pity because she was too lovely to be a criminal and when she looked at him with those huge violet eyes, he found himself softening. Damn the woman! He thought he knew women in all their changing moods, had met enough of them in his time, but this one had him foxed.