by Julia Quinn
Propriety was never of much concern to us, was it?
She thought of hot kisses in a stair cupboard, with his body pressed to hers and his hands roaming over her in places far more intimate than her foot, and a wave of sudden heat washed through her body.
Mortified, Ellie glanced up, but thankfully, Lawrence wasn’t looking at her. His head was bent over her foot, his attention on her possible injuries, giving her the chance to regain her control. But even as she reminded herself that the wild, ungovernable passions he’d evoked in her were a thing of the past, the heat of his hands seemed to burn right through her silk stocking and made a liar of her.
Fortunately, he slipped off her shoe at that moment, and the stabbing pain that shot through her foot banished any erotic sensations. She inhaled sharply.
“Sorry,” he said at once. “But it’s important to know if you’ve broken anything.” Cupping her heel in his palm, he continued his examination, his free hand roaming over her foot, and though his examination was gentle, it seemed an eternity before he eased her foot to the ground.
“You’ve not broken any bones,” he said, “but you have sprained your ankle, I’m afraid.”
Ellie gave a groan of frustration, but she stifled it at once. She had no time for lamenting things she could do nothing about. “Then you’ll have to take me to Wolford Grange on your horse.” She held out her hand, but this time, he didn’t move to assist her to her feet. “Well, come on,” she urged, waving her hand. “I’m supposed to be away for London with Lady Wolford this afternoon. We can’t sit here dawdling.”
“Can’t we?” He gave a shrug and looked around. “It’s a lovely day. And besides, you’ve had a bit of shock. Dawdling seems like a fine idea.”
“But if I’m late, the marchioness won’t wait. She’ll journey to London without me.” Even as she spoke, she realized what he was doing. “Oh, I see. If I’m not in London, I can’t dine with Lord Bluestone tonight.”
“Just so.” He sat back on his heels. “And if you’re not with him, he can’t very well propose marriage to you, now, can he?”
Ellie glared at him, despising the tiny, satisfied smile that curved his mouth. “The depths to which you are willing to sink in order to achieve your ends never cease to amaze me.”
“But Ellie, you are embarked on what I can only regard as a rash course. This delay might give you time to think, to reconsider. Why, I might be responsible for saving you from a disastrous marriage and a lifetime of living with a useless twit.”
“You’re such a hero.”
Her sarcasm bounced off him like an arrow off a granite boulder. “I am, rather,” he said with a false modesty that only increased her ire.
“In your own eyes, perhaps.” She leaned forward to shove her skirt hem back down over her ankles. “For my part, I still think you’re a cad.”
“Insulting me is not very wise of you, given that I am your only means of getting home.”
“That fact doesn’t matter in the least,” she countered at once. “Because I know you will take me home, regardless of what I say.”
“You seem very sure.”
“I am sure. Whatever I may think of you, you regard yourself as a gentleman, and if you wish to continue thinking so well of yourself, you certainly won’t leave a young lady who has been injured lying alone and helpless in the road.” She held out her hand.
His lips twisted in a wry curve. “Well, you’ve got me there,” he murmured, and much to her relief, he stood up, pulling her with him.
Her relief, however, was short-lived. After lifting her onto his saddle, he swung up behind her, and as his body pressed against hers, Ellie couldn’t help but tense at the intimate contact. When his arms slid around her waist so that he could take up the reins, she felt a flush of heat and embarrassment. This unnerving state of affairs became downright infuriating, however, when he urged the horse forward, for the pace he set was so slow that even with a sprained ankle, she could have traversed the distance more quickly by limping home on her own.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” she cried, glaring at him over her shoulder. “You’re being ridiculous. If Bluestone isn’t able to propose to me this evening, he’ll do so another day. This ploy to keep me from him won’t work.”
“Probably not,” he agreed with aggravating good cheer and seemingly no inclination to move along any faster.
“You cannot prevent me from marrying him. If I am delayed today, I will still journey to London tomorrow. Papa will host another dinner party, inviting Lord Bluestone, and that will be that.”
“I’m sure you’re right.”
These mild agreements only served to make her more inclined to hammer the point home. “He will propose, I will wed him, and your plans will be foiled.”
“No doubt, no doubt, but there’s many a slip between cup and lip, as the saying goes. After all, I still have your sixpence.”
“As if that means anything. My friends and I may have believed in that nonsense when we were girls, but nonsense is all it is.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we will.” With that, she pressed her lips together, refusing to say another word, ignoring his comments on the fine day, the beauty of the countryside, and the pleasure of such a leisurely ride. They arrived at Wolford Grange far later than she had intended, but Ellie was glad he hadn’t managed to goad her into any further arguments.
Servants must have been instructed to watch for her approach, for Lawrence’s horse had barely ambled into the circular drive in front of the house before the doors opened and the butler, Mr. Hymes, came hurrying out.
“Lady Elinor,” he greeted as Lawrence brought his horse to a halt by the steps and dismounted. “We were growing concerned about you, my lady.”
“I daresay,” she agreed with a withering glance at Lawrence as he slid her from the saddle and into his arms. “I sprained my ankle walking home from Prior’s Lodge, and as you see, Mr. Blackthorne was kind enough to bring me the remainder of the way.”
Her sarcastic emphasis on his kindness wasn’t lost on Lawrence. He grinned, hefting her body slightly in his arms, and she jerked her chin, looking toward the butler.
“Where is Lady Wolford?”
“I’m afraid she has departed, my lady.” The butler paused as she groaned, and he gave her a look of apology. “You know how insistent she is upon punctuality. And I fear she was a bit cross about your failure to arrive in time to accompany her.”
“I’m sure.” Elinor glanced again at Lawrence and found that he was positively smirking. “Thank you again, Mr. Blackthorne. You may set me down, now.”
“And leave you to hop up those steps? No, no, I couldn’t possibly. My kindness won’t allow it.” He looked at the butler. “Lead the way, Mr. Hymes.”
“It isn’t necessary,” she began, but the butler had already turned away and started into the house. Lawrence followed, carrying her across the foyer, up the stairs, and along the wide corridor to the drawing room, where he deposited her on a settee.
“Best not to put any weight on it for the next few days,” he advised as he straightened. “How you’ll manage that, if you’re traveling to town, I can’t think. Perhaps you should postpone the trip?”
His expression was grave, but there was laughter in his eyes.
Ellie pasted on a smile in response. “What a considerate gentleman you are, Mr. Blackthorne, but I wouldn’t dream of disappointing my father in such a way. He has great plans for me this season, you know.” Still smiling, she waved a hand toward the door. “We really mustn’t keep you any longer, sir, for I’m sure you have many things to do.”
“Indeed, I do. I must be home to pack, for I’m also away for London today.”
Ellie’s smile faltered. “You’re going to London, too?”
“I am. I’d offer to take you with me in my carriage, but that wouldn’t be proper. Your father will be worried, no doubt, but I shall call upon him when I arrive in town and tell him what’s happened
to delay you.”
Ellie’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “You only arrived in Berkshire yesterday. Just why, pray, are you returning to town so soon?”
“Unlike the other gentlemen of your acquaintance, my time is not entirely my own. I have duties to which I must attend. And entertainments to arrange.”
She made short shrift of his position in Peel’s office with a derisive snort and focused on the latter part of his statement. “Do you really think Lord Bluestone would forgo dinner in my father’s house this evening to play cards or carouse about town with you?”
“Given that he probably sees me as a rival for your affections, I doubt it.”
As always, his particular way of agreeing with her was maddening and made her even more inclined to argue. “He does not see you as any kind of rival. Why should he?”
“No reason whatsoever.”
“Still, he’d never be so rude as to cancel at the last moment, and certainly not for your company.”
“As to my company, I’m sure you’re right. On the other hand, Bluestone is quite fond of gambling and drink—perhaps too fond, but that’s a story for another day. He might, however, deem the tables and whiskey at White’s far more amusing than dinner with your father, especially if you aren’t there.”
“Your effort to diminish the viscount in my eyes won’t succeed. And even if you somehow manage to divert him for this one evening, you won’t be able to do that every evening.”
“I’m sure. Your beauty far outweighs the allure of the gaming tables. Even Bluestone isn’t thick enough to think otherwise. But tell me,” he went on before she could take issue with his estimation of the viscount’s intelligence. “Daventry knows about Bluestone, of course? And he approves the match?”
“Of course he approves,” she snapped and regretted it at once. “My father did not suggest this course of action to me!”
“Nor has he tried to deter you from it?”
Ellie felt a sudden pang—of doubt or fear, she couldn’t decide—but she shoved it away, reminding herself of the ulterior motives of the man goading her. “Papa approves because this is a good match for me, not for any other reason. And,” she went on before he could express doubt on that point, “it’s only because of you that the possibility of a good marriage for me has ever been diminished.”
If he had any regrets on that score, he didn’t show it. Instead, he tilted his head to one side, studying her so long and so thoughtfully that she squirmed beneath the scrutiny. “What are you staring at?” she demanded, feeling defensive, uneasy, and oddly vulnerable. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m wondering what sort of man approves of his daughter selling herself to save his skin.”
She was on her feet at once, barely noticing the pain in her injured foot and wholly unaware of what she was doing. Only the cracking snap of her hand against Lawrence’s cheek made her realize she’d slapped him.
At once, she pressed her stinging hand to her lips, appalled that she had allowed him to provoke her to violence.
He looked back at her, his countenance grave. “You needn’t worry about Bluestone, Ellie,” he said quietly. “I shan’t make any attempt to divert him from your side.”
She frowned in disbelief. “No?”
“No.” Once again, his face donned its usual easygoing good humor. “I have an entirely different line of attack in mind.”
She took a deep breath, forcing down another pang of worry. “Do what you must,” she said. “And so will I.”
“I’m glad we are in accord at last, my dear,” he said, touched his fingers to the brim of his hat, and gave her a bow. “Now, I shall leave you in the capable hands of Mr. Hymes and be on my way. My great-aunt Agatha will be quite worried if I’ve not arrived at Cavendish Square by nightfall.”
He departed, but though she was relieved he was gone at last, Ellie couldn’t help but wonder just what deviltry he did have in store.
With Lawrence, alas, there was no way to know. His brain could conjure up any number of schemes to cause trouble, making it all the more incumbent upon her to reach town as soon as possible.
She reached for the bellpull on the wall behind her, and gave it a tug. A moment later, Mr. Hymes appeared, and she beckoned him to her side. “I’ll need assistance up to my room, Mr. Hymes. Then send my maid to me and order another traveling carriage readied.”
“Another carriage, my lady?”
“Yes. I am still going to London tonight.”
Hymes stared at her, aghast. “Oh, Lady Elinor, Lady Wolford wouldn’t like it if you traveled to town unaccompanied.”
“I have no intention of doing so. You will send a footman to Prior’s Lodge to tell Cordelia’s aunts of my predicament, explain that my need to travel to London today is quite urgent, and inquire if one of those good ladies could possibly accompany me.”
“But, my lady, what of your ankle?”
“Hang my ankle.” She paused and looked out the window, staring daggers at the broad back of the man riding away down the lane. “Sprained ankle or no,” she added under her breath, “I refuse to stand meekly by while that man works to ruin my family.”
Within an hour, Ellie had received a reply from Prior’s Lodge, and much to her satisfaction, one of Cordelia’s aunts would be happy to escort her to town straightaway.
Another hour, and Ellie was at last on her way, Cordelia’s Aunt Bunty beside her. In honor of the fine day, the top of the carriage had been rolled down, and with her ankle comfortably propped up on a pile of cushions and the warm breeze flowing past her face, Ellie’s worries began to ease away.
They’d gone a mere five miles, however, when the carriage suddenly slowed, and Ellie straightened on the seat, suddenly alert. “What is it, Avery?” she asked the driver on the box.
“One of the horses is having a bit of trouble, my lady. May have gone lame.”
She watched in dismay as Avery pulled the pair of grays to a halt and climbed down to examine the hooves of the horse in question. “He’s lame, right enough,” the driver said at last. “Lost a shoe.”
Ellie fell back against the seat with a groan. “Of all the rotten luck,” she mumbled, rubbing one gloved hand over her forehead. “Now what shall we do?”
“Chipping Clarkson’s just up ahead, my lady,” the driver told her. “We’ll walk the carriage into the village and have the blacksmith take a look.”
The blacksmith of Chipping Clarkson, however, proved unable to see to the unfortunate horse, for he was in bed.
“In bed?” Ellie blinked, staring in dismay at the proprietress of the Black Swan, who also happened to be the wife of the blacksmith. “At this hour of the day?”
“Down with the grippe, ma’am. Our boy, too. Half a dozen other people as well.”
Ellie was conscience-stricken at once. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“They’ll be all right now, miss. Leastways, that’s what the doctor said this morning. Fever’s broken, you see, but most of them are weak as babes, still. We’ve sent to Chalmsby for their blacksmith’s boy, but we got word back he won’t be able to come or send anyone until the day after tomorrow.”
“Is there anyone else in this village with the requisite skills to replace a shoe?”
“Oh no, ma’am,” the innkeeper told her. “Leastways, not just now. We’re a small village here, you see, and with so many having been sick, all the able men are tending the fields. They’ll be out until it’s pitch dark, and off again at dawn. It’s planting time, and with so few men to help, every minute of daylight is needed.”
“Of course. Might we hire another pair of horses, then, to resume our journey?”
She might just as well have asked for dinner from a French chef. “Oh, miss, we’ve no horses to spare for hiring out. As I said, we’re a small village.”
Ellie began to feel truly desperate. “Perhaps one of the local men might be willing to take us to London?”
This notion seemed even more beyond the good lady’s
comprehension. “Oh no, ma’am. None of our men go to London. They can’t be spared from their work to go that far. You see, we’re a—”
“Small village,” she said in unison with the woman opposite. “Yes, I see.”
“Now then.” The rotund, red-haired proprietress of the Black Swan opened the book in front of her with a brisk air. “You’ll be wanting a room for the next two nights, I suppose?”
Ellie sighed, and Bunty patted her shoulder. “It’s a disappointment, my dear. But there’s little we can do. It seems we are stranded here until Wednesday.”
That assessment of their situation proved too generous. The blacksmith’s boy from Chalmsby didn’t arrive in Chipping Clarkson for another full day, so Ellie’s six-hour journey to London ended up taking three full days. She arrived at the house in Portman Square late Thursday evening, too late to see her father, who was already out for the evening.
The following morning at breakfast, the earl expressed great relief at her arrival, but also some bewilderment. “Thank heaven you’ve appeared at last,” he said as they walked into the morning room together. “That bounder Blackthorne informed me that you had sprained your ankle and would be delayed, but three days?” He shook his head, frowning as they took seats at the table. “Really, Elinor, what delayed you so long?”
She gave him a wry look as she sat down. “Several ridiculous mishaps, Father.”
“Indeed, Lord Daventry,” Bunty put in as she took the chair to the earl’s right hand. “It was a series of events so unlucky that it almost seemed like destiny.”
Ellie stiffened in her chair, feeling again that pang of uneasiness. As Bunty related the events of the past few days, she tried to dismiss the feeling, for it was ridiculous to think there was such a thing as preordained bad luck, and the missing sixpence had nothing to do with the events of the past few days. Nothing at all.
“My, my, you have been unfortunate,” the earl remarked as Bunty came to the end of her narrative.
“We may have been delayed, that’s true.” Ellie lifted her teacup in a toast. “But we’re here now.”
