“There was actually something else I came to ask you.” His stare focused on something over her left shoulder, clearly avoiding eye contact with her. “It is…ah…”
“Yes, my lord?” They shared no other entanglements or associations. Would he request she ask her father about the missing pages, see if he was aware that they’d been torn out?
Lord Hawke rubbed the back of his neck and swallowed. “Molly thinks it best you accompany me to Sheerness.”
“Me?” There was no way to mask her surprise. “But she thinks me a marriage-hungry maiden with the mark of the devil.”
It was nearly impossible not to laugh at the woman’s assertions, though Ophelia feared it would make her appear all the more deranged if she broke out in unbridled mirth.
“Yes, but, as she wisely pointed out, the book belongs to you.” They both glanced down at it, firmly in his grasp. “And beyond that, she believes we will be better received and locate the information we seek far easier together.”
It sounded as if he still endeavored to convince himself of her usefulness.
“I cannot simply collect my bag and disappear with you to Sheerness.” She pressed her hand to her chest, concentrating on slowing her erratic heartbeat—and the notion of adventure set before her. “What would I tell my parents? What would society think of a proper lady gallivanting about England alone…with a man?”
Chapter 12
He sighed; the weight that had settled earlier lifting from his shoulders. “This was the exact concern I spoke to Molly of. It is not proper at all. It is imposs—“
She tapped her chin in thought. “Though, if I collected my things quickly and we left now, no one would be the wiser, and we would be long out of London before anyone even came searching for me.”
Every instinct in him flared with alarm. “You are actually considering this?”
“When did you plan to depart for Kent?” she answered with her own question.
“Today, actually,” he stammered. “Now, in fact. I have my traveling coach at the ready in your drive.”
“Then I request but a few moments—ten at the very most—and I will be ready.”
“But—but—I only came to request the book, not convince you to risk your reputation only to prove correct my grandmama’s long-held belief about Fair Wind.”
“It is clearly important to you—and Molly,” Ophelia said, her chin notching higher. “And if Molly thinks I can be of assistance, it would be unkind of me to refuse.”
It was absurd of her to agree. Possibly the most foolish errand his grandmama had ever requested of him—and she had sent him with her pendant, as well. This was important to the old woman, more than Colin had ever suspected, and deep down, it was just as vital to him. Once this mess was behind him, Colin would either have the proof necessary to convince his father, or he would be relegated to asking for his father’s forgiveness for the years spent arguing over their family past. Either way, Molly would be banished back to the country, and Colin would continue as Lord Hawke, heir apparent to the Coventry Earldom.
“You will wait for me?” she inquired, her voice so melodic and…innocent, as if she were asking him to wait for her to hand her glass off at a ball so they could dance, not climb into his coach and travel hours from her family with no protection but that which Colin provided.
He hadn’t thought about leaving without her. “Of course, my lady.”
The brilliant smile she turned on him was worth the risk they were taking.
“Oh, thank you for taking me with you on this adventure! I will meet you at the coach.” She turned quickly, the blanket falling forgotten to the ground as she raced toward the house, entering through a side door that opened into the small garden in which he stood. “I will only be a moment.”
The door closed behind Lady Ophelia, and despite the rock that had settled in the pit of his stomach, he was smiling on the inside and certainly looking forward to their carriage ride. If for no other reason than to find out why a lady would jeopardize her reputation and future to help a man she barely knew.
Colin made his way back to the coach, nodding to his driver as he held the book at his side.
An adventure?
He snorted and mumbled, “Not bloody likely.”
This trip would be more of a disaster—of epic proportions—than an adventure. At the very least, Colin was seriously compromising Lady Ophelia’s reputation, even if no one found out that they journeyed alone together to Sheerness.
His head pounded, and he massaged his temples. He could only image the story she’d concoct to keep the magistrate from chasing them down. It would be Colin’s blasted luck that he’d find himself in trouble for this entire debacle. And this was all due to Molly’s whim—well, that and his insistence that information could be found in Sheerness. But there was no reason he couldn’t have outright refused to even consider including Lady Ophelia in this adventure…far more aptly called a misadventure. The book was not explicitly necessary for the journey. She was not integral to discovering the information he needed. Nor should he be listening to a woman who truly lived by the superstition red hair was a mark of the devil.
Yet, here he was.
And here came Lady Ophelia around the side of the house, a satchel held securely under her arm and a thick woolen cloak over her shoulder. The wide brim of her bonnet did not hide her feverish grin as she rounded the corner and glanced to make certain the front door was closed before hurrying to the coach, tossing her traveling bag inside, and leaping in after it.
He peeked in the conveyance as Lady Ophelia climbed onto the rear-facing seat and began arranging her skirts after her mad dash.
“Shall we be off, my lord?” she called, a bit too excitedly for Colin. “It would not suit either of us to have my father stumble upon us in the drive.”
“We would not want anything of the sort to happen, especially not before we’ve even begun our journey.” He slowly climbed into the carriage, and his footman lifted the steps and shut the door, the only light within from a single pulled drape casting a shadow across Lady Ophelia’s face. “Ready?”
“More than ready, my lord,” she said, arranging her cloak and satchel on the seat next to her.
For the first time, Colin noticed her change in attire. She had switched from a sage-green walking gown to a deep blue riding habit, the neckline cut daringly low and offering him an ample view of her heaving bosom as she continued to breathe hard from her run to the coach.
She riffled through her bag, giving Colin a moment to inspect her further without alerting her to his task. The traveling habit highlighted her fair complexion and complemented her already crystal eyes. The sleeves were tight about her arms, the bodice stretched tightly in a most alluring manner, and the skirts flowed to the carriage floor where they pooled, hiding her boots. She’d also pinned her hair at the back of her neck in a prim knot suitable for traveling, yet her hat was far grander than was needed in an enclosed conveyance.
A knot lodged at the back of his throat as his stare landed on her low neckline once more. He’d only met the woman on three occasions, this being the third, but in their short acquaintance, she’d always favored gowns of a far more modest cut and color. There was little chance they’d successfully travel to Sheerness and back without notice with her dressed in such a captivating habit; even now, Colin was incapable of taking his stare off her.
“My lord?” She waved a small paper-wrapped parcel in front of him. “I asked if you were hungry.”
Blinking several times, Colin hoped his smile was not as sheepish as he felt being caught lavishing over her bosom. “My apologies. I was pondering our plan once we arrive in Kent.”
“Oh?” Lady Ophelia set the parcel in her lap and untied the twine holding the paper closed to reveal a loaf of flat bread and a wedge of cheese—and even a large portion of plump, purple grapes.
“When did you have time to collect a meal?” The woman was full of surprises—though this was a
welcome one, as he hadn’t eaten since early that morning. “You were not inside for more than ten minutes.”
She unhurriedly retrieved a cloth napkin from her bag and smoothed it over her lap before answering. Her chin lifted as she spoke. “I find the best way to accomplish something with all due haste is to enlist the help of a trusted servant. In this case,”—she paused to arrange the food on the cloth and presented the feast to him—“it was my maid, who was more than willing to pack our meal while I collected my things and changed.”
“Are you not worried she will tell your father where you’ve run off to?”
She waved her hand before popping a grape into her mouth, the translucent juice marring her lips as she chewed. “Heavens no,” she commented around her food.
Colin shrugged as he accepted a portion of the bread and a sliver of cheese as they hurried through the crowded afternoon streets of London toward the country.
“Where did you tell your maid you were going?” He could not believe she’d speak the truth of the matter, or risk them being stopped long before they reached Kent.
“To Gretna Green.” She placed a hunk of bread between her lips, her eyes drifting closed as a sigh escaped her. “Have you ever tasted anything as heavenly as fresh bread, Lord Hawke?”
“Gretna Green?” he groaned.
Her eyes opened, and her stare narrowed on his look of shock. “Of course,” she sighed heavily. “They wouldn’t believe if I said I was running off to any other destination, and they would worry. It was the only way to assure they would not send someone after me.”
Her satisfied grin only confused him more. “How is the Scottish border meant to keep them from coming after you? I would think it would be all the more reason to stop you from doing anything foolish.” Perhaps Lady Ophelia was looking to ensnare a husband, though he’d be loath to admit that Molly was correct.
“Foolish, my lord?” Her brow rose, and her cheeks blossomed with pink. “I can assure you, I have never done anything even the slightest bit foolish, with the exception of this trip to Sheerness.”
“There is traditionally only one reason a woman travels to Gretna Green…”
“I am aware. To wed.”
“And this would not concern Lord and Lady Atholl?”
“Well, they very pointedly forbid me from going; however, they will know I am not in harm’s way.” She spoke slowly as if he were the one dull of mind and not the other way around. “How long did you say the trip to Kent would be?”
“Ummm, well…” Everything about the woman threw him off course. Perhaps Molly had actually spotted a kindred spirit in Lady Ophelia but had misinterpreted her has a crux. “Six hours at most, with a stop for fresh horses in Dartford. But can we not return to the topic of Gretna Green?”
She handed the remaining foodstuffs to him and returned to her bag, ignoring his question. “Six hours…in a carriage…with naught to occupy my time—“ She pulled a small red leather-bound book from her pack and held it aloft. “I suppose I will get much reading done. You do not mind turning up the lamp, do you? Reading without proper light is known to cause significant harm to a person’s eyes.”
Colin could do nothing but stare, wide-eyed, as she reached over and increased the wick on the lamp and settled her book in her hands. She flipped it open, her mouth moving as she read silently, leaving Colin to finish the meal she’d brought.
The bread was tasteless, and the cheese unsatisfying as he watched Lady Ophelia settle in across from him; her posture at ease and her brow furrowing as she read.
Her complete repose and ease with their inappropriate situation did nothing to diminish his apprehension.
To Colin’s great surprise, Lady Ophelia did let slip a slight wheeze as she slept, many would call it a deep, labored breath, though it was entirely at odds with her soft, angelic beauty. It hadn’t taken long for her lids to droop and the book to slip to her lap as her chest rose and fell in peaceful slumber.
It was not so easy for him. He’d inspected the road behind them on more than a dozen occasions, fearful that Atholl had sent someone to chase them down, but the road behind them remained deserted. They stopped in Dartford for a fresh pair of matching greys and continued their journey, all without waking the woman across from him.
He marveled at her serene nature, unlike the tortured slumber he’d interrupted in the garden earlier. When he’d happened upon her in Atholl’s yard, she’d appeared restless; her brow pulled low, her jaw clenched shut, and her fists balled tightly. It was perhaps the reason he’d started their conversation off lightly and had, against his better judgment, asked her to accompany him.
It had been Molly’s doing—all of it.
If his grandmama hadn’t raised her cane at Lady Ophelia and created such a spectacle, would Colin even remember the woman?
Yes, he would remember her. There was no chance he’d forget the woman before him.
Her long hair had escaped from its knot sometime during their travels and fell down around her shoulders, nearly reaching the seat beneath her. He wondered if it would slip like silk through his fingers or perhaps have a sturdier, thicker texture.
Shortly after they’d departed Dartford, the sun had set, and Colin had turned the lamp to low to avoid disrupting Ophelia’s sleep. The gentle sway of the carriage had nearly tempted him into slumber, as well, but he needed to remain vigilant during their journey. With only his footman and driver, they were an optimal target for highwaymen. His father’s lavish traveling coach spoke of immense wealth, though Colin’s barony barely brought him enough funds to make repairs in the village and maintain the small manor house, which was truly little more than a cottage.
Lady Ophelia was his responsibility as long as she was in his care.
And he would bloody well not allow any harm to come to her.
A sharp rap from his driver signaled that they’d arrived in Sheerness.
Ophelia shifted on her seat, her eyelids fluttering as she woke. Her back arched, and her boots poked out from beneath her gown, much like a feline stirring from a long slumber in the stables. The hint of a smile touched her lips, as if she remembered a dream from her hours of rest, but it disappeared quickly when her eyes fully opened.
“Have we arrived in Sheerness?” she asked, her voice rough with sleep.
“Yes.” He pulled the drape back to reveal an empty yet well-kept inn yard. The thatched-roof building bordering the property must be the inn. Proving his suspicions accurate, a young lad ran out and spoke with his driver before hurrying back into the building. “It is late, but I will request a meal be sent to your room as soon as you are settled.”
“That is not necessary, I can—“ But her stomach betrayed her with a loud growl. “Well, very well, a meal would be welcome, however…” She grasped her satchel and slipped her hand into each pocket, feeling around before moving to the large main pouch.
“What is it?” he asked when her gaze darted to the discarded paper from the meal they’d shared earlier, and her shoulders slumped.
Concern knitted her brow, and a sheen appeared in her eyes. “I—I—forgot my pin money.”
Bloody, rotting bollocks but the woman was going to cry.
Her bottom lip trembled as his footman swung the door open.
In an instant, and before thinking better of his actions, he knelt before her, his hands on the seat cushion on either side of her legs. “Do not fret,” he soothed. “I will handle the room fee and your meals. You are on this harebrained journey because of me, after all.”
“But—but—but—that is far too much, my lord!”
“Come now, it is the least I can do, especially if we are found out and your reputation is compromised.”
She released a huge breath, and her clenched hands stopped trembling in her lap.
“That is better,” he coaxed. “Gather your things, and we will inquire about rooms and a meal. Tomorrow, the true adventure begins.” He almost choked on the word adventure, though he suspect
ed it was what she needed to hear to collect herself.
Colin grasped her satchel and held it out for her to fill with the few possessions she’d removed in her frantic search.
With her bag in hand, he assisted her from the coach, and they made their way into the inn.
As he’d feared, the ale room was vacant and closed for the evening; however, the proprietor stood at the ready when they followed the hall down to the main staircase.
Short, with tufts of uneven grey hair and a rounded belly, the innkeeper looked upon them with a welcoming smile and a greeting to match. “Welcome ta Sheerness, m’lord.” He bobbed his head. “And welcome ta ye, m’lady. I be Caruthers. Will ye be need’n a room?”
“Two rooms, kind sir.” Colin glanced at Ophelia from the corner of his eye as the innkeeper scrutinized them. “And a hot meal, if that is not too much trouble. We have been travelling for many hours and are famished.”
Caruthers turned away with a grimace. “We don’t be have’n two rooms, m’lord,” he curtly replied. “Only inn around, and this be a busy night, a busy night indeed.”
“One room will do, I suppose.” Ophelia tensed on his arm at his words. “How about a hot meal?”
“Will a warm one do?” He came around the desk and took Ophelia’s satchel from Colin’s shoulder. “Me wife already gone ta bed.”
“One room and a warm meal sounds heavenly, Mr. Caruthers,” Ophelia said with a wary laugh. “Thank you for accommodating us this late into the night.”
“’Tis me job, lass,” he huffed and started up the stairs.
Colin gestured for Ophelia to start up before him as he took his bag from his footman and followed Ophelia and the innkeeper up the stairs—to their single room. Now was not the time to ponder how he’d gone from searching for a fabled book to sharing bedchambers with Lady Ophelia.
One thing he knew for certain, Molly would find endless amusement from her grandson’s predicament.
Would his grandmama have sent him on this quest if she’d known he would be forced to sleep in the stables with his footman or share a bedchamber with the fiery-haired sorceress?
The Misadventures of Lady Ophelia (The Undaunted Debutantes Book 3) Page 11
