‘Oh,’ he said again, giving it another look as if struggling to recognise it. ‘I told the girl in the shop that any hat would do. Then I placed the note in it and told her where to send it.’
‘I see,’ she said in response. That explained a lot about the choice of decoration. He had not bothered to find something she might like. He had not even bothered to choose his own favourite. He had let a shop girl sell him a hat that no sensible person would take out of the shop. And now she was stuck wearing it for the remainder of the trip.
She glanced out of the carriage window, thoroughly tired of conversation. They were clear of the city now, the road wide and empty before and behind. The sounds and smells coming to her from the open windows of the coach were those of birdsong and hay, with the occasional whiff of horse along with the steady rattling of harnesses and clopping of hooves. As she listened, they seemed to slow, and she felt the sway and jerk as the carriage rolled to a stop. Then silence.
Alister tapped his stick against the front wall of the carriage hard enough that it might be felt on the back of the driver’s seat. ‘I say. Coachman. Hoy! What is the matter?’
No answer came, but she felt another swaying as the driver got down from his seat, probably to check on the horses. Still there was no sign that he meant to offer any explanation to his passengers.
Alister swore softly and reached for the door handle. ‘Wait here. I shall go out and see what the matter is.’ He offered yet another reassuring smile. ‘It is probably nothing more than a loose shoe or a frayed harness. If so, I will give the fellow a good talking-to. He should have checked such things before we set out.’
He jumped out of the carriage and she saw him walk towards the front as the door swung shut behind him. The sound of muffled voices followed, then a single shout. And then she felt the carriage rock again as the driver remounted and the horses began to turn.
The vehicle swung in a wide circle and was heading back towards London by the time she had the presence of mind to call out of the window for Alister. Even hanging head and shoulders out of the window, she could see no sign of him on the road that was now behind her. He had to be back there somewhere, for he was not where he belonged, in the coach with her, nor did she think he was driving.
* * *
In the hour and a half that passed as she was transported back to London, her rage simmered, then boiled. She should not have been fooled at the ease with which she had escaped the house. She had underestimated Mr Solomon, so focused on his racing to catch her that she had never thought he might be some steps ahead.
* * *
A short time later they arrived back at the Scofield townhouse and Michael pulled to a stop at the front door. To any curious onlooker it would appear that Lady Olivia was returning from a shopping trip and not an aborted run for the Scottish border. The day was devoid of scandal, and therefore a success.
He hopped out of the driver’s seat and opened the door, smiling up at her before remembering that he had a muffler about his face to keep down the dust of the road and hide his identity. It had not been a particularly good disguise, but it had fooled Clement, who was the sort of man that gave little notice to the people working beneath him. He pulled it away, smiling again.
She responded with a glare. ‘Where is Alister? What have you done with him?’
It was strangely disappointing that she still cared so much about a fellow who could not pull off a simple elopement. ‘I have done nothing with him, Lady Olivia.’ He could not help smiling a little wider at the memory. ‘I did nothing that he did not bring upon himself, at least. He fell into that ditch with little help from me...’
‘You pushed him into a ditch?’
‘Not a particularly deep one,’ he admitted. ‘He was not injured, I am sure. He was rather wet, of course. And quite muddy. But otherwise unharmed.’ Then he patted the pistol in his pocket. ‘Unharmed and disarmed.’
‘You left him defenceless in the middle of nowhere,’ she finished, furious.
‘A public highway in England is hardly the end of the earth,’ he replied. ‘He will have a bit of a walk before reaching the nearest house. A mile or two.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Three at most. Surely not four...’
‘The middle of nowhere,’ she repeated.
‘He had his purse with him. I am sure he will be able to hire transport back to London, even if it is a cart ride from a local farmer.’ Now he had to struggle to keep from grinning, which would further inflame her anger. ‘The walk back to London might give him time to think about the wisdom of elopement.’
‘I don’t want him to reconsider,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Alister has been the only constant in my life through all the difficulties. If he leaves me...’
He offered her a hand to help her from the carriage and his fingers tightened on hers in an encouraging squeeze. ‘Then you will marry a man who is more worthy of your affections.’
For a moment her hand responded to his touch, clasping his. Then she yanked it away and grabbed the carriage door to help herself to the ground. ‘What makes you think that I had not found such a man in Alister?’ she demanded. ‘Just what is it about him that you find so objectionable?’
He paused again, then glanced at her head. ‘Perhaps it is his taste in millinery.’
She snatched the bonnet off her head, threw it to the ground and stomped on it with a silk-slippered foot. Then she glared at him. ‘If anyone had reason to object to this abomination, it was me. But you did not see me shoving anyone into a ditch over it.’
‘Of course not,’ he replied, hoping to calm her.
‘No,’ she said, dragging the word out until it sounded like a bitter laugh. ‘I wore the thing. Out of love for the man who gave it to me.’
He was afraid to point out that snarling a declaration of love was not likely to convince anyone of her feelings. Instead, she looked and sounded as if she wished Alister might be here to meet a fate similar to that of his hideous bonnet.
He scooped up the crushed hat from the ground and let one of his arms hover about her shoulders to shepherd her towards the front door. ‘Let us go inside and we can discuss this further.’
‘If my brother weren’t mad, then perhaps I would not have to sneak off to Scotland with the only man who has asked,’ she said in a tone that said tears were not far away.
‘There, there,’ he added, unsure of what else could be said. But he was sure his employer did not want the family discussing his sanity on the street in front of the house. He let his arm drop to touch her shoulders, drawing her forward and staring daggers at the footman, who was gawping through the window instead of opening the door.
When they reached it, he opened it himself, dragging her through just as the flood of tears arrived. He gave her back an ineffectual pat, which only seemed to encourage her to lean into him, clinging like a vine in sight of the butler and two parlour maids. He shot them all a helpless look and mouthed ‘Tea!’ over Lady Olivia’s bowed head, then led her towards the sitting room and shut the door.
‘If my sister Peg had not run away, she would not have been allowed to marry at all. If Hugh wished to see us married to proper men that he could accept, he could just as easily have found us husbands. Instead, he hires men like you to follow us wherever we go and make sure that we never meet anyone.’ At the moment, she did not seem to be too bothered with him in particular, since she was muttering her complaint into the silk of his waistcoat.
He squared his shoulders, squared his jaw and tried not to be moved by the nubile beauty sobbing in his arms. ‘Be that as it may, following you around is the job that has been set to me and I will do it to the best of my ability.’
She grimaced. ‘You searched the hatbox and found the note,’ she said with another sob.
He nodded and patted her back, reminding her, ‘It is my job to anticipate your actions and respond to them.’
‘I hate you,’ she said. The tears came faster but she made no attempt to move out of the circle of his arms.
‘I know,’ he replied, closing his eyes and trying not to focus on the feeling of her body shuddering against his.
‘I hate Hugh as well,’ she said on another sob. ‘And Alister.’ This last was delivered on a wail of misery.
Well, that is some progress, at least.
It took an immense amount of restraint not to announce his true feelings.
When he did not answer, she announced, ‘I hate all men.’ There was a hysterical tinge to her crying, as if she would never stop. He might be trapped here for ever in this impotent embrace, holding a woman who had no idea what she was doing to him. She was a sweet armful and, despite what she might think of someone hired to keep her safe, he was a flesh and blood, human male who could not be expected to ignore his feelings indefinitely.
And so he showed her. He pushed her away so he might see the shocked look on her face before pulling her back in for a kiss that was wet and salty, and open-mouthed confusion. He came to his senses at the first touch of her tongue and pulled away again, trying to look more composed than he felt.
She was staring at him with those enormous blue eyes, her fingers raised to touch her lips as if she expected to feel a change in them.
It occurred to him that he should say something. An apology was probably necessary. But no amount of sorrow would save him if she decided to tell her brother what had happened. In any case, he was not sure he regretted what he had done. After two years sneaking about with Clement, it was not as if she was an innocent schoolgirl who would be ruined by a single kiss.
The silence between them grew long and embarrassing and, unable to think of a better way to end it, he clapped his hands together in a gesture of completion and said, ‘There. Now that you have stopped crying, I will go and see what is keeping your tea.’ Then he hurried out of the room to find the housekeeper.
CHAPTER SIX
‘Another cup, Lady Olivia?’ The housekeeper was hovering, justifiably worried about her state of mind.
‘No, thank you,’ she said, annoyed at the way her cup rattled in the saucer. The situation called for something stronger than tea. ‘Would it be possible to have a small glass of ratafia? Just as a restorative. It has been a long day.’
‘Of course, Lady Olivia.’ The housekeeper returned a short time later with a large glass of what they both knew was straight brandy flavoured with sweetened fruit. But since Hugh thought it was a delicate drink fit only for ladies, he would not question her desire that the servant leave her the pitcher.
Liv took a deep sip and felt her tongue go numb. It was an improvement on the way her mouth had felt before, when it was still wet from Mr Solomon’s kiss. He had only done it to stop her from crying. She supposed it was better than a slap in the face, but that at least would have been easier to recover from.
Had Alister even bothered to kiss her when she’d got into the carriage? She could not seem to remember. If he had, it had been a thoroughly forgettable kiss and totally unlike the one Mr Solomon had given her, which had seared her to the soul.
The door opened and Hugh entered, staring at her with a look of concern. ‘Olivia, are you in distress? They sent a footman to fetch me.’
She fumbled with her drink before remembering that she had nothing to be embarrassed about. ‘Do I look distressed?’ she said, taking another drink of her brandy.
‘The servants said you were crying. If it is something that Solomon did, I’ll...’
‘No,’ she said, holding up a hand to prevent him from finishing the sentence. ‘I might as well tell you the truth, for he will likely report it to you tomorrow. He did what you wanted him to. He stopped me from eloping with Alister.’
Her brother gave a satisfied smirk. ‘And what became of Mr Clement?’
‘Left in a ditch on the road to Birmingham.’
At this, her brother let out a bark of laughter.
Liv took another deep drink and resisted the urge to laugh along with him. But that was probably from the effects of the brandy and had nothing to do with her feelings for Alister.
Hugh gave her a searching look, as if he could read the details of what had just occurred and expected her to admit all. ‘And how are you getting on with Mr Solomon?’
‘Fine,’ she blurted, feeling her cheeks go pink. ‘By that, I mean he is as annoying as all the other men you have hired to harass me.’
‘I see.’ His answer was as opaque as his expression. ‘Then you will be giving him no more trouble?’
She took another drink, holding the glass with both hands to keep from trembling. ‘Do you plan to release me from this house?’
His mouth tightened until his lips were a straight, stern line. ‘What I do, I do for your own good. Until I am sure you do not mean to do anything foolish, I cannot give you more liberty than you already have.’
‘I have none at all,’ she said, draining her glass and pouring another. It would serve him right if she took to drink to pass the empty hours. Or she could reveal what had just happened with Mr Solomon and have the man fired. Then she could take advantage of the confusion to escape again. All she had to do was speak and she was one step closer to freedom.
She stared at her brother for a moment, considering. Then she said, ‘Since there is no point in speaking further with you, I will take my glass and retire to my bedroom, where I can never get into any trouble at all.’
It was the brandy talking, she was sure. But the shocked look on her brother’s face made her happier than she had been all day.
* * *
The next morning she woke in a foul mood with an aching head and an empty decanter on the bedside table. But excess had done nothing to chase away the doubts raised by her elopement. Nor did she understand how she felt about Michael Solomon.
Why had he kissed her? Why had she let him? And what was she to say to him when she saw him today?
She did not have to say anything. She would not have to talk with him if she did not go into the garden. She would not see him if she did not look out of the window. Better yet, she did not have to be in the house at all. If she was properly chaperoned, Hugh had no objection to her taking occasional excursions to Bond Street. Although she’d thought she had a surfeit of it on the coach trip yesterday, a little more fresh air would do her good.
She notified Molly that she wished for a walking dress, and that she would be required to come along to prove to Liv’s keeper that she meant no harm. Then, dressed and fortified, she walked down the stairs to the front door, her maid trailing behind.
She made it as far as the foyer before being stopped by Mr Solomon. He smiled at her as if surprised by her impending departure, but she was beginning to believe that nothing she did truly surprised him.
‘Where do you think you are going?’ he said, still smiling, but standing in front of her to block the door.
‘I am going shopping,’ she said, tightening the ribbon on her bonnet with a jerk to show him that she was in no mood to be trifled with.
‘Correction,’ he replied. ‘We are going shopping.’
She wondered if he took pleasure in dashing her hopes or merely liked arguing with her. ‘You do not need to accompany me,’ she said, moving to go around him. ‘I will be taking Molly with me and need no further chaperone.’
‘The maid who accompanied you when you visited Mrs Wilson?’ He shook his head and turned to the girl. ‘You will not be needed, my dear. I will chaperone your mistress.’
The maid gave her a confused look, then turned towards the stairs.
‘Do not listen to him,’ Liv said in a sharp tone. ‘You are my servant.’
‘Actually...’ Mr Solomon said with a dramatic pause, ‘it is Scofield who pays your wage.’
Molly gave her another desperate glan
ce before deciding that, by extension, she must obey Mr Solomon. Then she ran for the stairs, disappearing up them before Liv could mount further argument.
Now she was stuck at the front door with the very person she had been leaving the house to avoid. ‘I do not actually have to go shopping,’ she said.
‘Women rarely have to do it, though they seem to like it well enough.’
‘I am not going to meet Alister, if that was what you were assuming,’ she said.
‘I am not assuming anything,’ he replied, ‘though it would be an excellent opportunity to do so.’
‘I just cannot stand to be in this house another minute,’ she said, squeezing her reticule as if she wished to choke the life out of someone.
‘Then by all means let us go,’ he said, eyeing the purse nervously. ‘A brisk walk will do you good. I will stay a step or two behind you and say nothing. It will be as if I am not even there.’
She gave him the most imperious look she could manage then swept past him, out through the door.
As he had promised, he followed, out of sight but never out of mind. She could not help feeling that he was watching her as she walked, which made her strangely aware of the sway of her hips, a thing she had never thought about before.
Now that she was concentrating on it, she could not seem to decide if she was walking correctly. Too much swing would be a flounce and might look as if she were trying to get his attention in a most common way. Too little left her walking stiff-legged, as if she had something wrong with her knees. There had to be a happy medium somewhere between the two that she used when walking normally. But, try as she might, she could not seem to find it.
‘Excuse me, Lady Olivia?’
‘Yes,’ she said with a sigh, not turning to look at him.
‘Do you have a stone in your shoe? If you are in distress, we could stop...’
Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 1 of 2 Page 7
