by Mary Nichols
He laughed. ‘So it would, but I am not one to change horses in mid-stream, you know. And no doubt the city’s constables are on the man’s trail. I have no interest in him.’
‘Pity,’ she said.
They were silent for some minutes, listening and not listening to the hum of conversation around them, pretending to concentrate on the food on their plates while Joe and Betty seemed to have plenty to talk about.
‘I have booked rooms for tonight only,’ Jonathan said, pushing his half-eaten food away. ‘But if you wish to stay longer, I am sure it can be arranged.’
‘Why would I wish to stay longer?’ Louise queried.
‘If your destination is close at hand, you might need somewhere as a base, unless, of course, your relation invites to stay.’
‘I am not sure about that.’
‘Not sure your relative will invite you or not sure if the place is close at hand?’
‘Both.’
‘I see.’ He paused, smiling at her in the knowing way of his, which made her hackles rise. ‘But surely you know the name of the place?’
‘Yes, of course I do. I simply do not yet know how to get there,’ she admitted.
‘Oh, that is simplicity itself,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘You get there with me in my carriage. I thought I had already made that clear, but it would make it easier if I knew where to tell Joe to go.’
‘Mr Linton, how many more times must I tell you, that I do not require your services? If you are a thief-taker, then you would be better employed elsewhere.’
‘First time I ever saw him bested by a woman,’ Joe murmured to Betty.
‘I heard that,’ Jonathan told him. ‘The lady has not bested me and I’ll thank you to keep your opinions to yourself.’
Joe looked astonished. His master had never snapped at him like that before. Miss Louise Vail had certainly got under his skin. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord,’ he said.
‘My lord,’ Louise echoed, looking sharply at Joe, whose face had turned scarlet, to Jonathan whose brows were drawn down in a frown. ‘Did Mr Potton just address you as my lord?’
Jonathan shrugged. ‘I believe he did and I shall have his entrails for it.’
‘Who are you?’ Louise whispered. ‘You are not Jonathan Linton, are you?’
‘For the purposes of this adventure, I am.’
‘And who are you when you are not having adventures?’
He gave her a slight inclination of his head; doing more was impossible given they were sitting on a bench at a long refectory table. ‘Viscount Jonathan Leinster, at your service, madam.’
‘A Viscount!’ Luke’s teasing flew into her brain, followed swiftly by the memory of the conversation she had overheard between her father and mother about marrying a nobleman. And this particular nobleman was causing wave after wave of panic through her. She had heard Luke speak of him. His father was the Earl of Chastonbury. Too close to home for comfort. Had he known all along who she was and why she was travelling? She had to shake him off.
He watched her changing expressions and had no difficulty in reading her thoughts. ‘I am afraid so. But a name and a title make no difference. I am still the man you have come to know…’
‘Do I know you? I think not. You are as much a stranger to me as you were the day we met,’ she said, feeling stricken.
‘Liar,’ he murmured.
‘You have had your fun, my lord, now let me be. I do not need you.’ Angrily she scrambled off the bench on which she had been sitting and stormed from the room. He half-rose to follow her, but changed his mind and sat down again. She was truly the most exasperating woman he had ever come across.
‘And don’t you dare make another comment,’ he told Joe. ‘Go and arrange for the horses to be ready for tomorrow.’
Joe left with Betty in tow, and everyone else drifted away to amuse themselves for the rest of the evening. Jonathan called for brandy and sat on, brooding about a girl with the most amazing green-flecked eyes, who could make him feel so unsettled. He had never met anyone quite like her before. The young ladies with whom he usually associated were either daughters of his father’s friends with whom he flirted lightly when occasion demanded or demi-reps with whom he dallied occasionally. Louise Vail was neither. He had to keep reminding himself she was not part of his world. Why then did he allow her to disturb him so?
Louise had asked the innkeeper to furnish her with writing materials before she went to her room, but she did not immediately begin her letter. It was not that she did not know what to write, though that was difficult enough, but the fact that she had been so deceived by Jonathan. She had come to rely on him, had let him dictate the pace at which she travelled, had accepted his gifts and admitted, if only to herself, that she liked him a lot and if it were not for this all-consuming mission to find her mother, she might have fallen in love with him. Might have? She sat on her bed trying to analyse how she felt, but all that did was make her more confused than ever. One thing she was not confused about was the need to keep him from knowing the real reason for her journey.
She gave a half-sigh, half-sob, and went over to sit at the table and write to her mama. She wrote about her journey as if it had been uneventful, that she had been delayed by taking a cold because the weather had been dreadful, but had been looked after by Mrs Slater, a travelling companion with whom she had become friendly. She even said she had made the acquaintance of Viscount Leinster who had business in Yorkshire. He had been very helpful in smoothing her path. Tomorrow she would go to Moresdale and then she would come home. She begged to be forgiven and prayed they would have her back, because she could not imagine life without them and her brothers.
She felt much better after she had written it and was just signing it when Betty came into the room. ‘If you write a note for Alfred, I will seal this up and take it to the post,’ she told her.
Half an hour later, she put a shawl about her shoulders and ventured out into the street. The air was fresh after the stuffy atmosphere of the inn and she breathed deeply as she walked, as much to steady herself as anything else. Having asked for directions, she walked briskly towards the Minster, whose tower she could see above the rooftops. Then she turned right and walked along a busy street, looking for the York tavern where the mails were collected each evening, so the proprietor of the Black Swan had told her. Having left her letter, she went on to the Minster and went inside.
It was a vast place, many times larger than her father’s church, but its grandeur did not detract from its feeling of tranquillity. She wandered round it, reading the inscriptions and admiring the huge stained-glass window at the end of the choir and then knelt at the altar and prayed for divine guidance and forgiveness. She left feeling calmer in her mind, and made her way back to the Black Swan and Viscount Leinster. She would not let him overset her; she would be strong and resolute.
There were several people about, walking or riding in chairs, a young couple, a woman with a child in her arms and another clinging to her skirts, a gentleman riding home after a day out in the field, a beggar boy to whom she gave a penny, a chimney sweep with his brushes over his shoulder, two ladies and their escorts riding in an open carriage on the way to an evening’s entertainment and a man with a short, untidy beard, leaning on a wall, smoking a dirty grey pipe. He wore a brown silk coat, which went ill with his grubby wool breeches, and seemed to be idly watching the people coming and going. He put his hand up to take the pipe from his mouth and Louise gasped. He had a finger and the tip of his thumb missing.
Chapter Seven
It could not be. The man had been sent under guard back to London. He should be there by now and safely locked up in Newgate. She was tempted to take to her heels, but forced herself to keep walking at the same pace as before. She was dressed in skirts, not breeches; her hair was arranged in curls and ringlets, not tied back in a queue, and she wore dainty shoes on her feet, not riding boots. He could not recognise her, could he? When he had last seen her she was, t
o all intents and purposes, Louis Smith.
It was only a few paces before she reached her destination and hurried inside in search of Jonathan, their quarrel forgotten for the moment. He had gone up to his room, she was told. Taking a deep breath, she climbed the stairs and knocked on his door, hoping he had not already retired. A moment later he was standing before her in breeches and stockings, but little else.
‘Louise!’ he exclaimed. ‘To what do I owe the honour of this visit?’
‘My lord,’ she began and then stopped, all too aware of his state of undress, his muscular torso and wide shoulders. Not for the first time, she felt a surge of something strange flow through her, a tingling in her limbs and an almost irresistible urge to reach out and touch him, to feel his flesh and the tiny curls of hair that ran down from his throat to his midriff. It was shocking of her and she clenched her fists in the folds of her skirt to keep herself in check
‘Jonathan,’ he corrected her. ‘We can hardly be formal under the circumstances.’ Hearing footsteps, he looked past her, down the corridor towards the stairs. Someone was coming. ‘You had better come in.’ Taking her arm, he pulled her inside and shut the door before she could find her voice to protest.
‘My lord!’ She was standing so close to him, she could feel his warmth, could feel his breath on her cheek, smelling faintly of brandy, and began to tremble.
‘Do you want half the world to know you visit me in my room at night?’ he queried with a smile, feeling the tension in her and wanting to lighten it. She had probably never seen a man’s torso before. But it was too late to find his shirt.
‘No, of course not. I would not have come, but I have just seen that man Jed Black, the one you said was safely on his way back to Newgate under guard, the one who swore revenge…’
He took her shoulders in his hands and looked down into her upturned face. The temptation to kiss her was almost overwhelming and he might have succumbed if she had been anyone but who she was. In spite of her independence, her spirit of adventure, her strength of character, she was an innocent, too distracted by what she had to tell him to realise the effect her presence in his room was having on him. It took all his self-control to speak lightly. ‘My dear, are you sure you are not imagining things?’
She ignored the endearment; it was mere condescension and meant nothing. ‘Of course I am sure. He has grown a beard and has changed his coat, but he could not disguise his missing finger and thumb.’
He was immediately attentive; this was no fancy on her part. ‘Where did you see him?’
‘In the street. He was standing on the corner, smoking a pipe. I am sure he was watching for us.’ She slipped from his grasp and went to the window. ‘He was on that corner, where he could see anyone who came in and out of here.’
He followed and looked over her shoulder to where she was pointing, but there was no one there. ‘What were you doing out? Were you trying to give me the slip again?’
‘No, certainly not.’ She could feel his breath on the back of her neck as he leaned over her; it was like a tiny breeze, making her want to turn and fling herself into his arms. It was an effort of will to resist and keep her back to him. ‘I was taking a letter to the post. It was still light and pleasant out, so I decided to go and visit the Minster. I saw him on my way back.’
‘Do you think he recognised you?’
‘No, he knows me as Lou Smith, doesn’t he? And I gave no sign I had recognised him. But he will know you and Betty and Joe…’
‘True,’ he murmured, turning her gently to face him.
‘What are we going to do?’
He smiled at her use of the pronoun. ‘We are going to do nothing. I suggest you go back to your room and leave everything to me.’ He took her hand and led her to the door. ‘I will see you in the morning. I think we have some serious talking to do, but it can wait until then.’ He opened the door and looked along the corridor. ‘All clear,’ he added, putting her hand to his lips. ‘Go now and do not worry. I will not let him harm you.’
‘It was not me I was worried about,’ she said. ‘Not altogether.’
‘Oh, my dear, I am flattered that you care.’ It was said with a light laugh to cover his discomfiture. ‘But I shall come to no harm. Now, go before someone sees you and jumps to quite the wrong conclusion.’ He gave her a little push in the direction of her own room.
She sped along the corridor to her room, stripped off her gown and petticoats and flung herself on the bed, barely registering the fact that Betty was not there. Every time she tried to sever her connection with Jonathan Linton, or Viscount Leinster, or whatever he liked to call himself, something happened to draw them even closer. And tonight she had been especially close to him, his bare chest had been only inches from her face! He had the power to turn her insides to a quivering jelly, simply by looking at her. Whatever would happen if he kissed her? He had gazed intently at her and, for a moment, she had half-expected he would, had braced herself for it, but then it had not happened. She did not know whether to be glad or disappointed. But he was a Viscount and she was…
For the hundredth time in the last two weeks, she asked herself who she was. The old Louise might have dreamed of catching the eye of a Viscount, but the Louise who travelled the road in search of an identity must put all such foolish thoughts from her. Tomorrow, she would go to Moresdale and she would perhaps learn the answer to the question that plagued her. But supposing she did not, supposing no one in Moresdale had ever heard of Catherine Fellowes? Supposing they had, but she had died and taken her secret to the grave? She would have to live the rest of her life not knowing. And who would marry her then?
Jonathan dressed hurriedly, pocketed his pistols, strapped on his sword belt and went in search of Joe. He found him in the corner of the parlour with Betty, who was giggling over something he had said. ‘Madam, go to your mistress,’ he said. ‘She may have need of you.’
‘She’s not my mistress,’ Betty grumbled. ‘Though you’d never know it the way I’m treated. I only came with her to bear her company and have a little ad venture.’
‘Then pray bear her company now,’ he said. ‘And from now on, you are employed by me to look after her.’
‘Seems to me, my lord,’ Joe put in, ‘the boot’s on the other foot. Miss Vail be lookin’ after Betty.’
‘Whichever it is, they are neither of them making a very good fist of it.’ He paused. ‘Jed Black has got away again and he’s in York.’
‘He never is!’
‘He is. You remember that robbery we were talking about at dinner? That was him. He is now wearing a brown silk coat and has grown a beard, but growing a new finger and thumb has been beyond him.’
‘Are we going after him, my lord?’
‘We are. He has threatened revenge and cannot be left loose.’ He turned to Betty. ‘Go up to your room and do not stir until I come to tell you it is safe to do so. Do you understand me?’
Terrified, she scuttled away, leaving Joe to follow Jonathan out into the street. It was dark now and though several of the buildings had flambeaux on the walls by their doors, casting a pool of light around them, much of the street was in darkness. ‘Do you know where to look?’ Joe asked.
‘No, but he was watching the Black Swan, so I do not think he can be far away. I do not think he is aware we know of his presence, so for the moment we are simply out for a stroll.’
‘How do you know all this, my lord?’
‘Louise was out earlier this evening and saw him,’ Jonathan said.
‘Mayhap she imagined him. Women often see terrors where none exist.’
‘Not this woman,’ he said, with a chuckle. ‘She is more likely not to see terrors that do exist. At any rate, she kept her head and did not draw attention to herself; as she was dressed in female garments, he probably did not recognise her. We shall make our way to the magistrate’s house and ask him to let us have the services of a couple of reliable constables.’
‘Then what? Do we
take the devil back to Newgate ourselves and make sure he gets there?’
‘No. I imagine York has secure enough places to keep him out of harm’s way. I will write to Lord Portman and he can come and take charge of him; it was his case, after all. I have other fish to fry.’
‘Miss Louise Vail,’ Joe stated.
‘Yes.’
‘What’s so special about her?’
‘Good question,’ Jonathan said thoughtfully. ‘She is special in so many ways, it is hard to enumerate them all. She is comely, for a start, brave and resourceful, intelligent and full of surprises. And not in the least cowed by greater strength or consequence…’
‘She is also a parson’s daughter.’
‘So what is that to the point?’
Joe refrained from reminding him that Miss Vail was not a lady, not in the sense polite society meant it, and would definitely not be considered a suitable bride for a Viscount. Neither was she a woman he could dally with, not mistress material either. His lordship was perfectly able to think that out for himself. ‘What I should like to know,’ he said, ignoring the question, ‘is what she is up to.’
Jonathan sighed. ‘So would I, Joe, so would I.’
‘Did her parents not tell you?’
‘No. I fancy I was supposed to catch up with her and drag her back home without ever finding out.’
Joe laughed. ‘And of course, being who you are, you could not do that.’
‘No. Has Betty not dropped a hint?’
‘Betty knows no more than we do, I swear it. All I have managed to winkle out of her is that Miss Vail is determined to find a long-lost relation and once that is done, she will go home. Seems a bit smoky to me. I reckon it’s a lover.’
‘She says not,’ Jonathan said tersely.
‘Well, she would, wouldn’t she? It is most likely why she is so intent on slipping the leash.’
