Three Secrets and a Scandal (Regency Secrets and Scandals Book 2)

by Elizabeth Hanbury

  “I have money.” Sophie held up her reticule, shaking it until the chinking of coins could be heard. “Not a great deal, but enough to pay my way. I’ve arranged to collect my luggage when I reach Bath.”

  “Will your maid be waiting there?”

  “Well, no,” Sophie admitted, grimacing as she dragged the comb through a tangle of curls, “but I couldn’t have brought her along even if I had wanted to. Amy, like the rest of the servants, is terrified of Aunt Eudora and tells her everything. I told Amy I had a headache and wanted to lie down. That should delay any pursuit, but I cannot afford to dawdle in case my absence is discovered sooner.”

  Theo shook his head. “It’s no good, Miss Devereux,” he said, with an air of finality. “I don’t know why you’re running away, but a pretty fellow I should be if I helped you in this nonsensical scheme.” He gathered up his reins. “I’ll take you back—”

  Dropping the comb into her lap, she clutched at his sleeve. “Oh no! Please don’t!” she begged. “It would be the sh-shabbiest, most treacherous thing after all my efforts. You can have no idea of what life with Eudora and Perry is like. I don’t have time to explain now—we could be seen at any moment—but I beg you will take my word it’s beyond bearing. I have to get away. Please.”

  Looking down into her dirt-streaked face, Theo was dismayed to see her eyes swimming with tears. Feminine tears had always stirred him and this lady’s seemed to be having a more profound effect than usual. As teardrops glistened on the end of those preposterous lashes, he felt his resolution waver. She was genuinely upset and alarmed at the thought of going back and, to his amazement, he was considering helping her. But he knew nothing about Miss Sophie Devereux other than what she had told him. Offering his assistance would be highly improper and he didn’t want to become embroiled in her family difficulties. His plans did not include carrying this madcap little baggage into Bath, whatever her circumstances.

  Yet there was something about her that was hard to resist. He was not immune to the plea he saw in her eyes or her distress. A stray leaf still nestled in her hair and, compelled by impulse, he stripped off one of his gloves and reached out to remove it. Sunbeams picked out coppery highlights among the silken tresses, which slid through his fingers like a molten liquid. Impersonal though his touch was, the sensation sent heat pulsing through his veins.

  As he contemplated her vivid little countenance, a curious sense of detachment settled on him. The rest of the world retreated until it seemed only the two of them existed, cocooned in this sunlit glade with the breeze rustling the canopy of leaves overhead. The memory of her pressed against him rose again in his mind as her delicate scent swirled about him. Gardenias, was it? Whatever it was, it was enticing. He found himself struggling with his reaction to her, a combination of annoyance, sympathy and attraction.

  Attraction?

  He thrust the notion aside impatiently. He must have a touch of heatstroke! She had unsettled him by falling into his carriage, that was all. He should be furious with her. He ought to be unmoved by her pleadings. He should demand she get down from his carriage at once.

  Instead, as her imploring gaze held him transfixed, he agonised over what to do next. It was madness to help and yet he could not find it in him to refuse. She was determined to escape and there was no way of getting her back to the house, short of taking her there by force. If he left her here, she would seek another way of getting to Bath and perhaps find herself at the mercy of a man with fewer scruples than he.

  Deuce take it.

  He could not abandon her to that fate and at least she would be safe if he escorted her.

  The shrill cry of a blackbird nearby recalled him to the present. Recollecting their situation, he flushed and replaced his glove, saying, “Very well, Miss Devereux. I will take you as far as Bath on one condition.”

  “Which is?” she asked, hope flaring in her eyes.

  “You satisfy my curiosity. I want to know what has prompted you to run away and what your intentions are.”

  She blew her nose on her handkerchief, a grateful smile on her lips, “Yes, indeed! Thank you! I will be happy to explain as we go.”

  Suddenly, she went still, staring ahead with an arrested look on her face. Then, in a flurry of activity, she shook out the carriage blanket and laid it across his knees.

  “Now what are you doing?” began Theo, “I’m not an invalid—”

  He broke off, watching in bewilderment as she scrambled under the blanket and curled up beneath his legs. Her muffled reply reached him through the thick cloth.

  “I can see that! Look towards the gates—the gate keeper is coming out. Act normally and Petheridge won’t notice anything amiss. He’s absent-minded as well as being as short-sighted as bat.”

  “I suppose I should be grateful. At least he won’t call me out for abduction!”

  She giggled. “You are very kind, Mr Cavanagh. You will not regret this.”

  Seeing the elderly Petheridge had indeed shuffled out of the lodge cottage and was looking in their direction, shielding his eyes from the sun with one gnarled hand, Theo urged his horses forward. “I’ll reserve judgement on that for now,” he replied in a low voice. “I have an inkling this could lead to more than either of us anticipate.”

  Only when they were a mile away from Ludstone did Sophie’s heart stop thumping against her ribs and some of the tension ease from her body. It had been a calculated risk to enlist Mr Cavanagh’s help. Despite her bravado, she felt nervous and terribly guilty about involving him, but there had been no other way.

  If she had tried to reach Bath by begging a lift on a farmer’s cart, she might have been overtaken by Perry in his vulgar new carriage. It was an eyesore but there was no denying it was fast. Perry had boasted of the speeds he had achieved with it on the Bath Road and how he had given mail coaches the go-by.

  She stole several glances at the man sitting next to her as she rubbed at her face with her sleeve and secured her hair as neatly as she could. He had not yet asked further questions, but had concentrated on his driving. They had overtaken slower vehicles which had required great skill. Sophie had held her breath and shut her eyes at one point, waiting for the inevitable crash, but she had opened them to see clear road ahead and the post chaise they had passed behind them.

  Theodore Cavanagh was an excellent driver, far better than Perry, an observation which afforded Sophie satisfaction. Her cousin boasted constantly of his driving prowess. He was convinced he was one of the best drivers in England and Aunt Eudora encouraged him. But Perry could not hold a candle to Mr Cavanagh and Sophie gleefully imagined her cousin’s sulky expression should he ever witness Theo’s skill. Fortunately, this was unlikely. Sophie hoped she had seen the last of Peregrine.

  Mr Cavanagh was, she acknowledged, a handsome man who commanded attention but unlike her cousin, there was nothing of the dandy in his clothes or his manner. He apparently preferred to enter his coat without the assistance of a valet and did not indulge in gaudy waistcoats or high shirt points. His top boots were serviceable and not polished to an impractical mirror-like shine. A few whip points rather than a nosegay were thrust through his buttonhole.

  His physique suggested he was a man who enjoyed sporting pursuits. His driving coat emphasised the breadth of his chest and shoulders, and toned, muscular thighs strained against the soft buckskin of his breeches. He was tall—gracious, she had not realised how tall!—and lithe, moving with surprising agility for a large man. When Sophie had observed his arrival from an upstairs window, she had seen him jump down from his curricle and stride to the front door with the fluid movements of a big cat. His dark hair was longer than considered fashionable and not brushed into a fixed, artificial style. She noted how he raked his fingers through it when it fell over his brow.

  His demeanour was one of restless energy kept in check but his face was open and amiable, suggesting he was usually good humoured. His eyes, the deep rich brown of a fine cognac, could hold an engaging
twinkle. Sophie had witnessed this when they had passed a coach and he had acknowledged the appreciative cheers of the roof passengers with a wave of his hand and a laugh. He must have a kind heart, too, for agreeing to take her into Bath when he knew so little of her situation.

  Notwithstanding these attributes, there was a hint of steel in the line of his jaw and in his expression. Sophie found this combination of amiability and resolve intriguing and thought it a pity she would not be long in his company—she would have enjoyed discovering more about Theo Cavanagh. He addressed her directly then, and she jumped. Engrossed in her study of him, she had not noticed they had passed the Horse and Jockey Inn and were already descending Kingsdown Hill.

  “Perhaps you will tell me now why you are running away,” he said.

  “Very well. It is because I do not wish to marry my cousin Peregrine, whom I dislike.”

  Theo glanced down at her. “I see,” he said, after a pause. ”That explains your flight in the face of a betrothal party. But surely you can’t be forced into a marriage you find distasteful? A gothic notion in these times, I would have thought.”

  “You don’t know my aunt,” she replied bitterly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Perhaps I should tell you something about my life in recent years, Mr Cavanagh, not to engage your sympathy but so you can understand why leaving now was my only option. Life at Ludstone has not been completely wretched, but it has been difficult and miserable. I have never had a London season because my aunt refused to pay for one and when I came out in society, assemblies and concerts in Bath were the limit of my experience. Still, having seen so little of the world, I was glad of the opportunity to attend these, even in the company of Aunt Eudora and Perry. It was not long before gentlemen began to show an interest in me—”

  “Hardly surprising,” he interjected.

  Sophie blushed and gave him a grateful smile, observing in a matter-of-fact voice, “But it was surprising. I’m not pretty. Aunt Eudora is always telling me that I’m not, and I’m too impulsive and outspoken.”

  Theo raised his brows. “Aunt Eudora is a woman without sense. I didn’t like her much when I met her and, having heard your description of her character, she grows more unappealing by the minute,” he said, deftly avoiding a Tilbury that had pulled out in front of them. “Pray continue, Miss Devereux.”

  “Well, I may not be beautiful, but I’m not bracket-faced yet either so I found it puzzling that, after a time, any gentleman who evinced mild interest would drift away without a word of explanation.” Sophie gave a faint, wistful sigh. “I am not a vain person, nor was I attached to any of them but in each case, their change of attitude was marked and sudden. For a young girl just out in society it was mortifying. Everyone noticed and I fell prey to vicious gossip. It was difficult to bear, but slowly I grew convinced their behaviour was not caused by anything I had said or done, and so it proved. Aunt Eudora had been warning them away. Annoyed, I raised the issue with her, but she was evasive and my concern grew. She had always been overbearing and interfering, but I had not imagined she would go to such lengths. From that moment on I determined to leave, but it was not possible straight away. I had a reason for staying at Ludstone a little longer. Then, last autumn, Eudora began to suggest I should marry Peregrine.”

  Sophie shuddered, adding, “At first, I could not believe she meant it. I treated it as a joke until I was forced to acknowledge she was serious. I argued with her, but she would not listen. She said she knew what was best and her mind was set upon the marriage. She has been persecuting me into accepting the match and making plans for it ever since, hence the betrothal party, and it is only a matter of time before an announcement appears in the newspaper. I could bear it no longer and was worried she might find a way of holding the ceremony against my will.”

  ”This sounds dramatic,” said Theo, frowning. ”Do you think she would go to such lengths?”

  ”She will do what is necessary to ensure Perry receives my inheritance. You see, I will be twenty-one soon and, under the terms of my father’s will, Aunt Eudora will no longer be my guardian. She is determined the marriage will take place before then.”

  “Has your cousin anything to say in the matter? Surely he makes a stand against his mother and her behaviour? But then, perhaps he cares for you—”

  “Bah!” She dismissed this notion with an airy wave of her hand. “Perry is only interested in himself. He doesn’t care for me! He is content to let his mother dictate plans and he has told me that, as he does not wish to marry anyone in particular, he may as well marry me to oblige his mother and to get his hands on my inheritance.”

  “He said that to your face?” asked Theo, incredulous.

  “Oh, yes! Perry is an odd creature, a mixture of extravagance, indolence and arrogance. He has a reasonable figure and not all together unpleasing features, but he can’t be called handsome. His eyes are too close together and a little too prominent. When he gets angry, they seem to protrude more and his face goes red—he reminds me of a lobster.”

  Theo laughed.

  “Well, he does,” admitted Sophie, with a fleeting smile. “He is shockingly idle most of the time, but he spends a great deal of money and effort on his appearance, his horses and his carriages, and tries to ape the leaders of fashion. He already has enough money to indulge his tastes but Aunt Eudora encourages his greed. Indeed, she indulges his every whim. Perry makes no secret of the fact he would like my inheritance. I am determined he isn’t going to get it!”

  “An admirable sentiment,” he replied, warmly. “Cousin Perry sounds as devoid of charm as his mother. Besides, marriage to a man who looks like a lobster, angry or not, is a fate not to be borne.”

  Sophie grinned. “I’m prone to giggle when he gets angry which annoys him even more.”

  Theo smiled, but said, “You must have other relatives— someone who could help?”

  ”There is no one,” she said, shrugging. “I have no siblings, my mother died when I was young and father died suddenly three years ago. That’s when I came to live with Eudora.”

  Glancing at her profile, Theo felt his heart constrict. He had a loving family and could not imagine being alone in the world with no one to turn to. Having met Mrs Sloane, he could imagine the pressure Sophie had been subjected to and the courage she had needed to escape it. “I’m sorry to hear that, Miss Devereux. I presume, though, you have somewhere to go.”

  A blush rose to her cheeks. ”There is a dear friend who I intend to stay with.”

  “Is this the person who is meeting you in Bath?”

  “No,” admitted Sophie. ”That is someone else.”

  Theo had no time to ask what she meant as they had reached the Walcot Turnpike. He reined in his team and tossed some coins to the toll keeper, who had emerged to collect the toll. When the gate had been opened, he urged his horses back to a smart trot and they entered the outskirts of the city.

  “What is your direction?” he asked.

  ‘The White Hart, if you please.”

  He glanced down at her. “A happy coincidence…I am staying at the White Hart.”

  “Oh!” After a slight hesitation, she added, “Then I am pleased not to put you to too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. You may be an abominable baggage, but you have proved charming company this past half hour.”

  Amusement gleamed in her eyes. “Still, you will be glad to be rid of me, I daresay.”

  “I daresay I will. Helping a damsel in distress was not how I had planned to spend the day, but as you’ve guessed, I’m a man of honour. I won’t abandon you until I am satisfied you are safe.”

  “There is no need,” she demurred. “I don’t wish to embroil you further in my affairs. You have been excessively obliging to bring me here and that is enough.”

  “Save your breath, Miss Devereux. You will not persuade me otherwise.”

  Eyeing him from under her lashes, Sophie judged it useless to argue; she would have to deal with
his reaction to her plans later. “You are very good. May I request another small favour before we reach the White Hart?”

  “What is it?”

  “Could you stop in Milsom Street please? I have two errands to run, but I promise I will not keep you and your horses waiting long.”

  “If you wish. I’m not in any hurry and have no other plans until this evening.”

  Sophie thanked him warmly. They passed the York House Inn and traversed George Street before reaching Milsom Street. When Theo asked where she would like to be set down, she indicated a property at the top of the street and he reined in his team outside the building. A shiny brass plaque announced it was home to the law firm of Smithson and Sands, an anomaly among the smart shops populating most of Milsom Street.

  Theo, raising his brows at this, made no comment, but handed her down from the carriage and said he would walk his horses while she completed her errands.

  She slipped into the building and Theo moved off. He saw her come out a short time later and when she gestured she wanted to a visit a shop a little distance away, he nodded. She then disappeared into Madame Lavalle’s emporium. A glance at the window display confirmed Theo’s worst fears—Madam Lavalle was a dressmaker. He groaned, hoping Sophie would not be long. His horses would soon get restless in the traffic now thronging the street.

  Time passed, and Theo walked his horses to the top of the street and back again several times. There was still no sign of Sophie and he began to fume. Like all women, it appeared even the practical Miss Devereux lost track of time when closeted in a dress shop. He would have risked entering and urged Sophie to hurry if his groom had accompanied him. As it was, he had left Stevens at the White Hart and there was no way he could abandon his curricle and team. His horses were in danger of taking a chill if she did not reappear soon. Theo’s lips compressed into a line. He had better things to do than wait hours for the sad romp he had agreed to help.

  He pulled his bays to a halt and was formulating some pithy comments to address to Miss Devereux when he saw a figure emerge. He watched as she stood at the top of the steps, taking her leave of a fashionably dressed older woman, presumably Madame Lavalle. She turned towards the street and waved to acknowledge him.