When a Rogue Falls

by Caroline Linden

  The click clack of hooves on the road lulled him into a sleepy state. He’d left the ball and gone straight home to make plans for this journey. His valet had packed in a flurry as Dash talked to the household staff. His house should run without any problems while he was away, but he always liked to have a hand in things when possible. Any staff not needed while he was gone would be given a chance to visit family and have a couple days off for whatever they wanted to do.

  Before long, they were pulling up to an inn to change horses. It was the noon hour and his stomach grumbled. As they pulled up to the building a crack echoed through the air. The carriage rocked heavily, pushing him from one end to the other. He banged his head against the side and groaned.

  “What the blazes was that?” he shouted.

  The door to his carriage swung open and his driver poked his head inside. “Many apologies, my lord. A wheel snapped loose.”

  That was bound to delay them for a while. He cursed and dragged himself out of the broken carriage. “How long will it take to fix it?” He brushed his waistcoat down and took note of his surroundings. It was a normal coaching inn. Nothing much to recommend it, other than its expediency for switching horses. “I’d like to be on our way as soon as possible.”

  “I’ll inquire inside,” the driver said bobbing his head as he backed away. “Be back before you realize I’m gone.”

  He doubted that. Dash glanced at his carriage in disgust. Of course they’d find themselves delayed. Luck hadn’t exactly been one of his friends of late. It was a damn good thing he didn’t have a gambling problem, or he’d already have been divested of all his funds.

  The driver rushed inside and Dash pondered what he should do. He could go inside and see if he could get a meal. It would most likely be inferior compared to his own cook’s fare, but he didn’t really care. His stomach was protesting the lack of food, and he needed to eat. Before he had a chance to go inside, the driver came rushing back out. That had been far quicker than he’d anticipated.

  “Good news, I hope,” Dash said to him.

  “I’m afraid not, my lord.” He fidgeted in front of him and twirled his cap in his hands. “The blacksmith is ill and can’t repair the axle today. We might be here a few days.”

  Dash hadn’t expected that bit of news at all. He had the urge to curse again but held back. It wasn’t the driver’s fault his bloody carriage had decided to crack the wheel axle. They’d have to take a room until it could be repaired.

  “That’s not all, my lord.”

  He was afraid to ask. “What is it?”

  “All the rooms are full. They have lodging in the stable.”

  This time, Dash did let out a string of curses that would make the most skilled reprobate blush. If he could turn around and go back to London he would. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible. How was he going to survive a night in the stables? He’d never spent a night in such a place in his entire life. He wasn’t looking forward to it, but what choice did he have.

  “Fine,” he said to his driver. “Make the arrangements. I’m going inside to have a meal.” At least that should go well—he hoped. If they suddenly didn’t have food, he’d go bury himself in a haystack until his luck turned around. Surely things couldn’t continue to go bad…

  “I think they have mutton stew for the lunch meal,” the driver provided. “The smell made my mouth water.”

  “Good.” Because if he had to hunt his own food, things wouldn’t have been pretty—he hated being hungry. It was the worst feeling. “When you’re done taking care of the carriage and horses, make sure you get some food too.”

  “Yes, my lord,” he said with a nod. “I’ll take care of them now.”

  Dash spun on his heels and went inside the inn. The smell was as scrumptious as his driver had proclaimed. He couldn’t wait to get a bowl of it and sit down to enjoy it. All the tables were full, but one had an open seat. The lady already sitting at the table had a wide, sweeping bonnet that covered her head and face. He didn’t like the idea of talking to a stranger, but desperate times and all that.

  “May I join you?”

  “Dashville,” she looked up at him and said, surprised. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?”

  God save him… The last person he’d expected to find at the inn was Helena. She’d never believe it was a coincidence. How was he going to explain this?

  Helena had woken early and decided if she was to be sent to Scotland she might as well begin her journey immediately. They’d left before the sun rose in the sky, and she’d sent off one of her scandal sheets to her publisher. She had a little more to add to the other one and planned to send it on the mail coach at this inn before they left. The following week’s scandal sheet was ready, and as irony would have it, her last entry hadn’t been the lie she’d believed it to be when she wrote it.

  “Please believe me,” Dashville pleaded. “I’m not in any way stalking you. I am on the way to my aunt’s castle, and my carriage has a broken axle.”

  She frowned. What were the chances they’d end up at the same inn and headed in the same direction? As a rule, Helena didn’t believe in coincidences; however, Dashville truly looked horrified to see her. The night before he’d wanted to kiss her, and perhaps more, but now he didn’t want to be near her? Had she pushed him away for good? A part of her was a little disappointed. He’d given up far too quickly.

  “A likely excuse,” she replied lifting her chin. “Where does your aunt live?” He’d mentioned a castle and suddenly she was stricken… No, that couldn’t be right. Please let her be wrong and they weren’t heading in the same direction, going to the same place.

  “Are you planning on following me?” He lifted a brow. “It would be one way to ensure I wasn’t the one doing the stalking.”

  “I’m not going to do any such thing.” Helena rolled her eyes. “If you’re not going to tell me where you’re going, perhaps you’ll tell me your aunt’s name.”

  That would be enough for her to determine if they were going to the same place or not. The castle location or the lady’s name—she needed him to tell her one. She didn’t believe he was following her. Dashville was a lot of things, but he’d always kept his word. He’d told her she’d have to come to him. Him trailing after her would defeat that purpose.

  “I doubt you know her,” he said. “She doesn’t socialize.”

  “Are you afraid to tell me?” Helena tilted her head. “Is she disfigured? An ogre? If so, why are you visiting her?”

  He sighed. “May I please sit?”

  Ah. He had asked to join her, and she’d left him standing during the entire exchange. That was rather rude, but she didn’t really care much either. “Please, do,” she invited him. “I look forward to hearing about your reclusive aunt.”

  “It’s not like that,” he replied as he pulled out a chair to join her. “She doesn’t have much reason to come to London. She prefers the country and the family she married into. She tolerates me and my Englishness.”

  Helena laughed. “How kind of her. It couldn’t be that you’re an arrogant scoundrel that puts her off?”

  “Not at all.” He grinned. “She loves me and wouldn’t hold that against me. My English habits on the other hand get on her nerves from time to time.”

  “That sounds familiar. I think I may know her…” It sounded more and more like Lady Scarsbury. He’d all but declared out loud she lived in Scotland. The family she married into and her less-than-tolerant attitude for English decorum. “I’ll tell you who I think it is, and in return, you can confirm it one way or the other.”

  “By all means.” He gestured toward her. “Tell me who you believe I’m speaking of. I have my doubts.”

  “Is your aunt, perhaps, Lady Scarsbury?”

  He jolted backward as if she’d slapped him. Helena sighed at the unspoken confirmation. Drat and damnation—why did they have to be heading in the same direction? Fate was conspiring against her and throwing him in her path at
every turn. There was no escaping him, and at this point, she didn’t see a reason to fight it.

  “How do you know her?” he asked.

  “She’s a dear friend of my mother’s,” Helena told him. “They went to finishing school together and remained close.”

  “Is your mother’s name Abigail by chance?” He’d never thought to learn the duchess’s name. It wasn’t something that he could ever address her as and seemed useless information. Now he was rather curious and couldn’t help asking.

  “It is,” she said. “But not many dare address her as such. Lady Scarsbury is one of the few allowed.”

  He leaned back in his chair. The stunned expression remained on his face. “I never would have thought it possible. When I left this morning, I had every intention of giving you space. Once my carriage is fixed I’ll return to London.”

  Now that she’d accepted they had a fate they couldn’t control she didn’t see the point of that. “Don’t bother. I’m sure Lady Scarsbury will want to see you. I assume you already sent word ahead.”

  “I did,” he confirmed. “But I can send something on the mail coach rescinding my arrival.”

  Helena really didn’t want him to go. This was the perfect opportunity to get to know him a little better. Perhaps she should instead invite him to join her on the trip. His carriage could follow behind them when it was repaired. In the confines of their shared conveyance, they could become acquainted, and maybe she could entice him to kiss her again. She’d liked it far too much the first time and wanted to explore the desire brewing between them.

  “I have a better idea.”

  “Oh?” he said. “Do share.”

  “Join me,” she replied. “Why not find out once and for all if we have something between us. Nothing brings two people closer together than the misery of a bumpy ride.”

  He emitted a low, throaty chuckle before saying, “Darling, do be careful at your choice of words. I assure you a bumpy ride with me would be nothing but pleasure.”

  She ignored that last bit. Mainly because if she thought too hard about it she feared she’d turn pink with embarrassment. “So, are you going to come with me?”

  He laughed again. “I do hope so…”

  Helena frowned. She wasn’t sure she understood what he meant with that last statement. She had only invited him to join her. “So, yes?”

  “Oh, most definitely, yes,” he agreed. “I’ll have my driver move my trunks to your carriage. I look forward to our journey.”

  “Take your time,” she said. “I have to post a letter before we can leave.”

  He rose to his feet and left her alone. She hoped she hadn’t made a mistake inviting him to travel with her. In some ways, it was terrifying, but at the same time, exhilarating. Much like when she’d decided to write her column, Helena was making a choice that would change her life in many ways, and she looked forward to it.

  They traveled most of the day and stopped at another coaching inn before dark. The plan had been to travel straight through and only change horses at each inn. Helena was growing rather tired though. Perhaps it would be better if they stopped for the night.

  She turned to Dashville and said, “Do you mind inquiring inside to see if they have any rooms available?”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he replied.

  Dashville pushed open the door and stepped outside. He didn’t get far when it occurred to her that stretching her legs sounded like a good idea. “Wait,” she called to him. “I’ll go with you.”

  He lifted a brow and tilted his head as he met her gaze. “Don’t trust me to ask a simple question?”

  “No…” Did he have to make it sound like she berated him for everything? “It’s not that at all.”

  “Well then.” He folded his arms over his chest. “Do you care to explain what your reasons are?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I simply wish to remove myself from the carriage and all its discomforts even if it proves to be a short time. Now, may I accompany you inside?”

  “As you wish.” He held out his hand to her and assisted her out of the carriage.

  They headed inside in silence. After that little exchange, she had been left at a loss what she should say. He was acting rather surly. Not that she could blame him—traveling by carriage wasn’t fun for short distances. All the way to Scotland was pure torture.

  “Pardon me,” Dashville said to the innkeeper. “Do you have any rooms available?”

  “Aye,” he said. “We have one you and the misses can have. No others to be had.”

  “Oh, we’re not…”

  Dashville held up his hand to silence her. “We’ll take it.”

  “Very well, my lord. I’ll have a maid show you to it in a few moments. Would you be requiring anything else?”

  “A hot meal sent up as soon as you’re able.”

  The innkeeper nodded and left them alone. Helena turned to Dashville with her hands resting on her hips. “What was that all about? You know we can’t share a room.”

  “I refuse to sleep in the stables.” He looped his arm with hers. “I can sleep on the floor or maybe a chair. We’ll figure it out later.”

  “Did you even hear what I said?”

  How could he be so bloody obtuse at times. It was bad enough they were essentially traveling alone. If anyone found out they’d shared a room, they’d have a real scandal on their hands.

  “I did,” he replied. “You have nothing to worry about. I don’t plan on taking advantage of you now or ever.” His lips tilted upward into a wicked grin. “Unless you ask me to.”

  “Then you’re correct,” she agreed. “As I’ll never ask you for anything, I’m sure my virtue will be safe for one night alone.”

  She still didn’t like it. The idea of a night away from that uncomfortable carriage was enough to convince her it would work. He might be the worst sort of rogue, but he’d never really paid her much attention. So what if he seemed more interested lately… It had to be some kind of game he was playing. Once he was done playing it, she’d be forgotten just as easily. That saddened her a little bit, but she had to be realistic. Dashville had never paid her much attention before. Why would that have changed now?

  He sighed. “I guess that’s it then. We’re in agreement.”

  “Yes,” she said. “As long as you can manage to behave as a proper gentleman should.”

  “You wound me, my dear.” His voice dripped with charm. “I always do things quite properly. It’s the only way to ensure complete satisfaction.”

  Helena wasn’t sure how to respond to that statement so chose to ignore it. Soon after, a maid came to show them to their room for the night—they followed her up creaky stairs and down a short hallway. The room itself wasn’t remarkable either. It was stark and held very little furniture. “It’s the best room we have,” she offered. “Is there anything else you’ll be needing?”

  Best room? The bed would barely fit two people on it. A threadbare quilt laid atop it and nothing else. There was a small table and two chairs in the far corner. It would do, but it wasn’t luxurious by any means. “That’ll be all,” Helena said. She had thought about ordering a bath, but decided against it. With Dashville around, there wouldn’t be much privacy, and she didn’t want to take a chance of him finding her in any state of undress, let alone completely naked.

  “Very well,” the maid said and curtsied. “I’ll bring the meal you requested up shortly.” She turned and left the room, shutting the door behind them.

  The silence in the room became deafening. Dashville had remained quiet the entire time. She turned to face him and found him staring at the bed. “Are you rethinking the idea of the stable?”

  “No,” he drawled. “I’m wondering what I can do to entice you to share the bed with me.”

  She jerked back, startled at his words. “What happened to acting like a proper gentleman?” Their discussion hadn’t been that long ago for him to have forgotten it already. “Do I need to tell the driv
er we must go forward tonight and not rest? I do hope you’ll see reason and sleep on the floor as you said you would.”

  Dashville took a deep breath and then sighed. “I don’t go back on my promises—ever. I won’t take advantage of you and never will. However,” he glanced around the room. “There doesn’t seem to be enough room to go around. Where, pray tell, do you expect I’ll sleep on this floor?”

  He did have a point. The room was on the small side. There was room around the bed and in front of it, but not much. There was barely enough space for them to move about. Dashville was a tall man, and in order to fit on the floor around the bed, he’d probably have to scrunch up a bit—he might have to on the bed too. Why ever would they make it so short? Was it designed for a child?

  “I do see what you mean,” she admitted. “The maid can bring us anything we might need and we can make something work. If need be, I’ll sleep on the floor since I’m not nearly as tall as you are.”

  “That is unacceptable.” He glared at the offending room. “I fear I’m rather spoiled because this has to be the worst inn I’ve ever stayed in.” He sighed again. “At least it’s not the stable. I’ll make do on the floor somehow.”

  A knock echoed through the room. “I’ve brought your meal,” a female said. Her voice was a little muffled from the closed door.

  “Come in,” Dashville replied.

  The maid came in carrying a tray. It held two bowls with steam pouring over top of it. In the middle sat a plate with a loaf of bread and beside it were two mugs. Silverware sat on the other side. She walked over to the table and set it down. “Just set the tray outside when you’re done. I’ll come collect it later.” With those words, she turned to leave.

  “Wait,” Helena said. “Can you bring some extra linens and a blanket? I get rather cold at night and might need them to keep warm.”

  “Your braw husband don’t keep you warm?” She shook her head and muttered something under her breath. Helena couldn’t quite make it out. “Englishman.” She glanced at Helena and replied, “Aye, I’ll bring some to you.”