by Collum, Lynn
At Holburn he’d found her trail again, but night had fallen and he decided to treat himself to a good dinner before making an early start of it in the morning. After all, the young lady wasn’t in any real physical danger traveling by stagecoach; her widow’s disguise would protect her from the slights of a female traveling alone.
Presently about to run her to ground, he wondered if he’d recognize Angel after all these years. He recollected a plain, thin child with leaves and grass tangled in her black braids, racing across the meadow to the stream where he’d awaited her. Then he remembered she’d had the most amazing eyes—large, inquisitive and the most unusual shade of violet-blue. He would know those eyes anywhere.
As the curricle raced round the curve, the village of Wansford came into view. Tooling into town, he ignored the stares that his rapid pace drew. Within minutes, he spied the large coaching inn, its yard cluttered with vehicles, but the black and red stagecoach loomed above the smaller carriages. Richard reined his team to a trot, then deftly entered the inn-yard gate where he called for someone to walk his team.
Within minutes the earl stood in the noisy taproom of the White Rose. The innkeeper, seeing a gentleman of some consequence enter, hurried forward. “Would ye be wantin’ a private parlor, my lord?”
“Not at present. I wish to be escorted to the room where the stagecoach passengers are dining.”
The innkeeper merely nodded his balding head and led his guest into the rear of the inn, making no comment on the unusual request. He’d been owner of the White Rose for twenty years, and he’d learned you didn’t question the fits and starts of the Quality and do well in business. He gestured at the door, then left the gentleman to his affairs.
Richard halted in the arched doorway to the public dining room. He was surprised at how crowded the table was. Only four women were among the boisterous group.His gaze came to rest on the back of a shapely feminine form dressed all in black. She bent over to speak to a small child. Her raven black hair was bound in a neat chignon at the nape of her slender neck. A neck which looked excessively kissable.
When that last thought popped unbidden into his mind, he was appalled. This was little Angel, not some lightskirt.What was he thinking? But as his gaze swept over her, he realized she was certainly no longer a child.
One of the men at the table glanced over and spied Richard. Taking in the elegance of his attire, the fellow assumed him to be a gentleman recently down on his luck, reduced to traveling by common stage. “Best take a seat and eat, sir. The coachman won’t wait for anyone. I suspect he’d even leave the likes of Prinny to keep to his schedule.”
A tall man at the opposite end of the table added, “ ‘Tis fortunate the prince don’t travel by stagecoach or they’d have to leave half the passengers behind to accommodate a man of his girth.”
A murmur of laughter went round the table, for while none had ever personally seen the Prince of Wales, caricatures of the stout regent abounded.
The earl never took his eyes from Angelica as he said, “My good man, you had best have a care about mentioning the royal gentleman’s size. Even the illustrious Brummell lost favor for commenting on such.”
Like the others at the table, Angelica turned to observe the visitor. As recognition dawned, a radiant smile lit her face and she rose.
The tall man failed to note Richard’s attention was engaged elsewhere and responded to the newcomer’s banter. “Aye, but I’d never be reckless enough to say it to his face as I hear the Beau did.”
Richard experienced a sudden tightening in his chest at the welcoming expression on Angel’s beautiful face. It touched him far more than the most alluring smile ever sent his way in London. She was genuinely happy to see him. But as he stood mesmerized by her, he realized he could no longer think of her as a little hoyden racing over the countryside. The plain but engaging child was gone, replaced by a woman of extraordinary beauty and appeal—this wasn’t his little Angel, this was Miss Angelica Markham. She was an intriguing and desirable woman. Just the sort to engage his interest. A strong yearning to see that sleek black hair spilled across a pillow filled him.
“Rich—Lord Blackstone, how delightful to see you again after all these years.” Then a slight frown touched her brow as his presence suddenly seemed suspicious to her. “Why are you here?”
The room had grown quiet. All the travelers seemed interested in hearing the answer to Angelica’s question.
Richard stepped forward and lowered his voice even as he took note of her temptingly curved pink lips. “I have come for you. Perhaps you would accompany me to a place where we might converse in private. I believe the innkeeper will provide such a room.”
Angelica’s back went rigid as the earl’s hand closed on her elbow, but her curiosity won out and she didn’t resist as he led her from the room. She’d been so glad to see him until reason told her he wasn’t there by coincidence.
She allowed him to lead her a short distance into the hall; then she halted, refusing to go any farther with the man who’d come to bring her home.
“I won’t go back, Richard.”
“Oh, but you will, my dear. I haven’t come all this way to return empty-handed.”
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and leaned back against the wall, his mouth quirking in the slightest suggestion of a confident smile. His eyes swept her up and down with a look which made Angelica’s heart hammer.
It was clear by that look that he usually got what he wanted, especially with women. She tried to gather her thoughts.
“How could you agree to be a party to my stepbrother’s plans?”
“I know nothing of why you and Giles have quarreled, nor do I care. Your Miss Parks has requested—nay demanded—that I save you from your own impetuous nature. So here I am, your knight to the rescue.”
She was amazed at the change in him. He was taller and more athletically built than she remembered. His ruggedly handsome face had thinned and the features had become more angular, but it was the look in his amber eyes which struck her the most. Gone was the boyish eagerness and vulnerability she remembered. Instead she gazed up at a man who was everything rumor said—a cynical, jaded rake.
What had Harriet been thinking to send such a man after her?
“The armor is a bit tarnished of late,” she snapped.
“True, but all it needs is a little polishing by the right lady.” The earl grinned at her in such a manner that her knees felt weak.
Turning away from him, she noted a plump maid who was eyeing Lord Blackstone with interest as she wiped a table in the taproom. Angelica looked back at Richard, gesturing toward the servant. “I believe we have just the lady for the task.”
Richard gave a soft laugh. “The rumors about me must be loathsome if you think I have stooped to romancing servants.”
“Romancing! Is that what you call what you have been doing over the past few years? I do believe they have another name for it.” Her violet-blue eyes glinted with outrage.
“Never mind what I have been engaged in over the years. Are you ready to leave?” Somehow Richard didn’t like the idea of Angelica knowing all the details of his London life.
The anger disappeared from her face, replaced by a look of determination. “I believe I told you that I am not going back with you.” Angelica turned as if to leave him.
Annoyed with her continued defiance, the earl reached out and grabbed her arm, liking her softness despite his best intentions. “I swore to return you to Mrs. Parks. You are going, if I have to carry you to my curricle.”
Richard and Angelica were so engaged in their dispute that neither was aware of Mrs. Greenleaf, Paul, the reverend and Mr. Morris standing a few feet away and observing the growing argument.
The vicar cleared his throat. “Mrs. Ansley, is there a problem?”
Giving them his haughtiest look, Richard allowed his hand to drop from Angelica’s arm. “I am the Earl of Blackstone and this is a private matter, sir.”
> Angelica suddenly realized she would need assistance to prevent Richard from forcing her into his carriage. She would have to invent some tale, or they would succumb to the power of Richard’s title. She moved toward them, her hands extended to the Reverend Mr. Firth. “Sir, I need your help.”
Grey brows arched, the vicar eyed his lordship warily.
“What can I do, Mrs. Ansley?”
“Who the devil is Mrs. Ansley, sir? You are addressing Miss Markham.” Richard found the situation had suddenly gotten out of hand. Angelica shot him a cunning look that suddenly made him wary.
“Reverend, his lordship is determined to spirit me away to Gretna Green and force a marriage upon me.”
Forgetting himself, Richard barked, “Angel.”
“I say, my lord,” the vicar sputtered, “I am uncertain what is happening here, but you cannot think we shall stand by and allow you to take Mrs. Ansley-er, Miss Markham against her will.”
Mr. Morris nervously eyed the earl. “I shall. None of my business. He can do as he likes.”
Mrs. Greenleaf stepped around Angelica, tugging Paul with her, and gazed at the earl with interest, thinking him a handsome young sprig. “I believe there is much ‘ere we don’t know about what is ‘appening. Why, for instance, do you call ‘er Miss Markham when she introduced ‘erself as Mrs. Ansley in the coach?”
Richard, who’d been stunned by Angelica’s prevarication, swept the farmer’s wife a bow, then gave her his most engaging smile. “Ah, I would say you are a lady of great intelligence, madam.”
“Don’t try charmin’ me, sir. I was born at night, but not last night. I don’t know much about anything, but I’ve raised five boys and four girls. Experience ‘as taught me to question ‘alf of what I see and most of what I ‘ear.”
With a wicked grin at Angelica, Richard turned his attention on Mrs. Greenleaf. So, little Angel wanted to play games—well, he would give her a taste of her own medicine. “Very wise, madam. Have no doubt that you have just heard a great farrago of nonsense from the young lady. Miss Markham, for that is her true name, is my ward.This is the fourth time she has run away from school. I suspect she is going to meet her dancing master in Gretna.”
Angelica stamped her foot. “That is the greatest hummer, sir. You have not even seen me in the last six years.”
“Only because you have been at school, my dear.” In an undertone to the farmer’s wife, he added, “Fortunately, the headmistress of the school caught her the other three times and spared me having to chase after the tiresome chit.” Richard struggled not to laugh as he watched the outraged expression on Angelica’s lovely face.
Clutching his satchel to his chest, the solicitor’s clerk nodded his head. “I knew that tale of a husband lost at sea was a take-in. I think the gentleman is speaking the truth.”
At that moment, the coachman bellowed in the inn yard. “Gentlemen, take your seats.”
The hallway was suddenly filled with stage passengers pouring out of the dining room and hurrying to get back on board the coach. Mrs. Greenleaf gave Angelica one last look of disappointment, then grabbed Paul’s hand and hurried away. Mr. Morris sniffed as if a bad odor were present, then followed.
The vicar sighed, looking first to Angelica and then at the earl. “I am not certain what the truth is here, but I suspect it is somewhere in between. I would only say, Miss Markham, you should go back to where you belong and you, my lord, should make certain that the lady comes to no harm. I fear I must go.”
“Very wise advice, sir.” Richard bowed to the departing clergyman, then stepped into Angelica’s path as she tried to follow. “No, Angel, you cannot go with the stagecoach.”
“Don’t call me Angel! That is a name reserved for my old friend Richard, but it seems he is dead and gone, killed by a libertine named Lord Blackstone.” Having said that, Angelica turned her back on her former friend, and attempted to walk away, but the earl again grabbed her arm, leading her to the inn yard. She wasn’t certain what bothered her more, that her old friend had come to take her back to Edenfield or how much she liked the feel of his hand on her arm. It didn’t truly matter, because at the first opportunity, she would escape from Lord Blackstone and his strange effect on her.
Chapter Three
Angelica angrily tied the ribbon to her bonnet, leaving the veil thrown back. There was no point in trying to disguise herself now that she’d been found, and no amount of pleading would convince the coachman that she was anything other than what Lord Blackstone accused her of being-a flighty runaway. She sat in the earl’s curricle, knowing she must bide her time for the right opportunity to escape. She watched Lord Blackstone arguing with the stagecoach driver over the matter of her portmanteau. At last a coin changed hands; then the man grudgingly opened the boot to retrieve her bag.
Within a matter of minutes, the coachman took his position on the box. With a loud jingle of the harness, the driver called to his team, “Walk on and be lively ‘bout it, lads. We’re late.” The York stage rolled out of the yard filling Angelica with a sense of despair.
The earl strode toward the carriage, a satisfied smile on his handsome face. Angelica schooled her features into a haughty mask and stared straight ahead. She wouldn’t say another word to the man who was betraying her in this unfeeling manner.
Richard shoved the portmanteau under his seat, taking note of Angelica’s rigid posture and dark expression. Settling beside the irate miss, he took up the reins and ordered the ostler to stand clear. He was amazed at how much he disliked the idea of her being out of countenance with him, but felt he was doing the proper thing in returning her home. With a sidelong glance at her beautiful face, he realized he would enjoy the task of teasing her out of her vexation. Leisurely, he tooled out of the village.
“There is no need to look as if I were taking you to Tyburn tree, my dear.”
Silence greeted his teasing remark. When they were younger such a statement would have brought a smile to her lips.
“Ah, so I am now to be punished for my efforts by being treated to silence.” Richard chuckled. “I am truly amazed that women believe it is punishment to cease their inane chattering for an extended length of time.” He took a quick glance to see if he’d annoyed her sufficiently to induce her to speak. The muscles in her jaw clenched and unclenched, but still she failed to comment on his provoking remark. Treating her silence as a challenge, he was determined to bring her out of the doldrums before they reached London.
For the next hour or more, Richard kept up a steady flow of commonplaces about the weather, the countryside they drove through and people they passed on the road.
Still Angelica sat mutely staring straight ahead, refusing to respond to him.
At last tired of the sound of his own voice Richard challenged, “I see I shall have to resort to some drastic measure to get you to speak to me. Now, what would do the trick?”
He thought for several minutes then a smile tipped his mouth. “Perhaps a kiss on those pouting lips might elicit a response?”
Angelica gasped, gazing at him with a mixture of dismay and anger. Yet within her there was also a curiosity at how his lips would feel pressed to hers. Shocked at her wanton thoughts, she snapped, “You wouldn’t dare, my lord.”
“Hark, the lady again speaks.” The earl chuckled, then countered, “Of course I would dare, my dear. After all, did you not accuse me of being a libertine? The art of lovemaking is what we libertines excel in.”
Angelica’s heart hammered as she noted his gaze lingering on her mouth. She forced herself to look back to the road, wondering how the young man she knew could have changed so much and why the very thought of his kiss made her warm all over.
Almost as if he’d read her mind, the earl said, “You know I am still the same Richard you knew, Angel. Perhaps a bit older and a bit more jaded in the ways of the world, but deep inside is still the person who showed you how to fish, who dried your tears when you scraped your elbows and who taught you to ride m
y horse.”
Angelica looked curiously at the man beside her as he drove the carriage. He was devastatingly handsome in a russet brown coat and tan buckskins, his black beaver hat set at a rakish angle over his auburn hair. He was the epitome of the polished gentleman. Was it possible that all his good qualities were still there beneath that heartless sophisticated veneer? Despite his avowed disinterest, would he help her if he knew what Giles had planned? She decided to test his claim.
“If you are still my friend, I beg you, take me to York.”
“Because I am your friend, I’m taking you home. I’m surprised that you are fleeing from a confrontation with your stepbrother. You were never wont to be faint of heart before.”
“Nor am I now, but you have made it plain that you care not what Giles and I are at odds about.”
“I begin to think that I was hasty in my remarks. Do you wish to tell me what has you so determined to journey to York?”
With a sigh, Angelica said, “Giles has arranged for me to be wed.”
Richard felt a strange twist in his gut. He really shouldn’t have eaten in such a hurry earlier, he thought. So Angel was fleeing a marriage of convenience. While he had no desire to marry at present, he could understand one’s reluctance to becoming leg-shackled. But it was different for females, wasn’t it? Angelica was well past the age when young ladies wed. He knew girls just out of the schoolroom often held foolish notions about marriage, but he thought her beyond the age to be so missish about such matters.
When he responded his voice was heavy with sarcasm. “Ah, I see. You, no doubt, cherished youthful visions of a love match. Surely you are far past that naive nonsense.”
