Lady Lyte's Little Secret

by Deborah Hale

  But he had to know, and this might be his only chance to get an honest answer from her. “I thought we had an understanding, you and I. It all seemed to be going so well. Then, from out of the blue, I got your letter, ending it all. Do I not deserve an explanation, at least?”

  “You deserve more than that, my dear Thorn, but I cannot give you more.” Her voice wavered.

  Felicity pressed her lips tightly together and drew several deep breaths before continuing. “My decision was not due to any fault of yours. I should have taken greater pains to assure you of that in my letter.”

  Her tone of gentle pity riled him. “I’m not a child, Felicity! You needn’t lie to spare my feelings.”

  “Men!” she shot back with equal fervour. “You are all alike. Thinking everything must center around you.”

  “If I am not the problem—then what?” Thorn threw up his hands. “You admitted I deserve an explanation, so give me one that makes some sense.”

  For a moment that seemed to stretch on for hours, Felicity stared at him without speaking.

  Thorn’s ample supply of patience had nearly run out by the time she murmured, “Very well. Perhaps you are the problem, though not in the way you imagine. Did you never consider I might have grown too fond of you during the time we’ve been together?”

  If he’d been standing, Felicity’s admission might have rocked Thorn back on his heels. Of course he hadn’t considered that possibility. He might not have believed it now, but for the look in her eyes and the blissful echo of a kiss that still tingled on his lips.

  “I don’t understand.” His weary mind struggled to make sense of it. “Why does that present…a problem?”

  Felicity shook her head, clearly exasperated. “Perhaps you are not as wise as I thought, Mr. Greenwood. Tell me, how did you feel when you received my letter, the other day?”

  “Well…I…” Thorn sputtered. He wasn’t used to giving his feelings much thought, let alone putting them into words. The deeper those sentiments ran, the more difficult he found it to frame them properly.

  “Did it make you…happy?” Felicity prompted him, like an impatient governess simplifying her question for an impossibly dull scholar.

  In just the way a baffled, embarrassed schoolboy might have done, Thorn scowled and shook his head.

  “You may not believe this.” Felicity’s voice fell to a whisper. “But it made me even less happy to write that message.”

  Greatly as Thorn was tempted to doubt it, a wistful edge in her voice persuaded him it might be true.

  Felicity stepped to the room’s one window, where she stared out over the green Vale of Berkeley. “I had no choice, though. If parting now makes us unhappy, imagine how much worse it would grieve us in a month’s time, if we’d continued on the way we were.”

  Put that way, it did make a kind of sense, though Thorn shrank from acknowledging it aloud.

  In fact, as the midday spring sunlight shimmered through the casement, gilding Felicity’s exquisite profile and burnishing frets of warm chestnut in her rich dark hair, he found himself questioning why they should ever have to part.

  Would Thorn believe her? Felicity wondered as she gazed out over the soft green countryside that sloped toward the mouth of the Severn.

  Why should he not? Everything she’d said was true.

  It had pained her to write that letter, breaking off their affair. In spite of her best efforts to keep their liaison free and easy, she had grown to care for her earnest, reticent lover far more than she’d ever expected or wanted.

  And the longer she tarried in his company, the harder it would be for both of them to say goodbye.

  But Thorn Greenwood was no man’s fool—no woman’s, either. True, he made no great pretensions of wit or genius, but his opinions were sound, honest and open to change. While he might not see fit to pass comment on everything that took place around him, little escaped his vigilant notice.

  If she gave him time enough to consider, Thorn might realize she was holding something back…something of importance.

  Reminding herself of all that hung in the balance, Felicity drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders. There would be plenty of opportunity later for looking back with regret. Now she must take decisive action to safeguard her future.

  “So now you understand.” She made herself turn to face Thorn. “You and I have sense and experience enough to recognize when a romantic connection is unworkable. My nephew and your sister are too young and impetuous to reckon how badly this elopement could end for both of them. I cannot let them put any farther distance between us if I hope to intercept them before they reach Scotland. Now that we have rested, I must set off after them at once.”

  “Agreed.” Thorn got to his feet with stiff, halting movements that betrayed his deep weariness. “Knowing my sister, I doubt she and Oliver can have got away from Gloucester much earlier than this, so we’ve already narrowed their lead by a good deal. With luck and fair weather, we might catch up with them before they get through Hereford.”

  “We will not catch them anywhere.” Felicity chided herself for not having the foresight to hire fresh horses and steal off to Gloucester while Thorn was away disposing of the young highwayman. “Please behave like the sensible fellow you are and head back to Bath once you’ve had a decent sleep. I mean to continue this journey on my own.”

  “You’re a fine one to talk of sense.” Thorn raked his long deft fingers through his hair. “Did last night teach you nothing? If you insist upon pursuing Ivy and Oliver, you need me with you.”

  How could one man make her yearn for him one moment, then vex her beyond bearing the next? Her powerful contradictory feelings for him set Felicity off balance when she most needed to be in control.

  “Of course I learned from what happened last night,” she snapped. “Though not the moral you appear to have drawn from it. In future, I will take care not to drive over stretches of deserted road after dark. When we reach Gloucester, I will hunt up a gunsmith from whom I can purchase pistols for Ned and Mr. Hixon. Does that satisfy you?”

  “It does not.” Thorn’s slow-burning temper gathered power. “There are plenty of other dangers on the road north that a brace of pistols won’t do you the least good against. Storms, floods, problems with the carriage or the horses. Your footman is only a boy and a slight one at that. Your driver is well past his prime.”

  Thorn’s flash of anger had spent itself. He shook his head. “I cannot understand why you are so set against having me accompany you.”

  A black bottomless void opened in the pit of Felicity’s stomach. She could not risk having Thorn reflect too deeply upon that subject.

  Before she could stammer out a reply, his expression softened further. A crooked, self-deprecating smile tugged up one corner of his mouth. “Haven’t I proven myself useful to have around in a pinch?”

  How could she resist such an entreaty? “Of course you have, only—”

  Thorn took one swift stride toward her then pressed the warm pads of his fingers to her lips. The token gesture itself did not silence Felicity. But the memories it conjured of his gentle, coaxing touch on her breasts and between her thighs made her mouth go dry and her breath catch high in her throat.

  “Now, now, my lady, don’t spoil your compliment by tacking on a miserable only.”

  Training a level gaze upon her, Thorn spoke with calm, quiet conviction. “I am coming and there is nothing you can do to prevent me. I have a horse and money to pay my own way. I swear I’ll be no bother to you, but I will be there to provide assistance if the need arises.”

  He lifted his fingers from her lips. “Now, can we please act like the adults we are, rather than two bickering children? You and I have a common goal, one we’ll accomplish far more quickly if we join forces than if we squander our time quarreling with each other.”

  The fact that he was right, and so maddeningly reasonable about it, did nothing to endear him to Felicity. Then again, she didn’t want
anything further endearing Thorn Greenwood to her. The man had already gained far too deep a foothold in her affections.

  “Very well.” She heaved a sigh of grudging surrender. “I suppose it won’t do any harm to declare a truce until we run Oliver and your sister to ground.”

  Felicity hoped with all her heart it would not take them too long.

  Her words of concession prompted a slow-blossoming smile to spread from that first wry twist of Thorn’s lips, lighting his strong, solemn features. “Don’t look so glum, then. It won’t be as bad as you think, I promise.”

  Felicity cast him a dubious look. Every further hour she spent in Thorn’s company placed her future and her heart in greater peril.

  “It will only be for a few days at most.” Thorn grazed her chin with the fingers he had lifted from her lips. “Then you’ll be rid of me. In the meantime, I give you my word I will be on my best behavior.”

  Felicity fought to keep her gaze from straying to the bed behind him. She fought even harder to keep from reaching up and running her hand over Thorn’s side whiskers to let him know how desperately she longed to lie beneath him one last time.

  It was not the prospect of his behavior during the next few days that worried her.

  It was her own.

  Chapter Seven

  “Are you certain you don’t want anything to eat before we get on the road again?” Thorn asked Felicity as they prepared to leave The King’s Arms.

  She shook her head with some vigor. “I had an enormous breakfast while you were off to Berkeley this morning. What about you, though? You haven’t eaten yet today nor have you had a decent sleep in who knows how long.”

  Was she about to suggest he stay behind and catch a nap, then arrange to meet up with her carriage at Droitwich or Bromsgrove? Thorn had no intention of taking that bait.

  “I’ll manage,” he muttered.

  He put masculine pride aside long enough to let Felicity settle the bill with the innkeeper. After all, he hadn’t done more than occupy a chair in one of the rooms to watch her sleep. The time might come when he’d need every twopence of his small hoard.

  A few moments later, while the young footman stowed Felicity’s portmanteau, Thorn helped her into the carriage. Once he had closed the door of the barouche box behind her, he mounted the horse Weston St. Just had loaned him.

  The door flew open again, and Felicity called, “Why don’t you tether your horse to the carriage, or let Ned ride post on it? That way you can catch a few winks of sleep in here while we drive.”

  Why was she suddenly offering to share her carriage with him, after she’d been adamant to the point of insult against having him accompany her?

  “I told you, I’ll manage.”

  If he was able to ignore her tantalizing nearness long enough to fall asleep, her scent would only haunt his dreams. Besides, he’d promised to mind his behavior. Alone with her in the intimate cocoon of the carriage, he might be hard pressed to honor that vow.

  “Suit yourself.” Felicity patted the dark-green hat which set off her striking eyes so well. “But do let me know if you change your mind. I had no idea what a stubborn man you could be, Mr. Greenwood.”

  He tried to fight off a grin, but failed. “I suppose that makes you and I a well-matched pair, Lady Lyte.”

  Clicking his tongue at the gelding, Thorn gave the reins a little jog and set off along the road to Gloucester. Behind him, he heard the carriage door slam shut. Harness jangled and hooves clattered as the horses began to move.

  Gradually the carriage picked up speed until it drew alongside Thorn. In that tandem they continued through the pleasant spring afternoon, along a stretch of road first engineered by the Romans. It ran between the rolling splendor of the Cotswold Hills and the wide lower reaches of the Severn River flowing westward to the ocean.

  As he rode, Thorn strove to keep his gaze from straying toward the window of Lady Lyte’s carriage. It was no mean feat, especially after one wayward glance happened to catch her watching him.

  For a slow shimmering moment, their eyes met, held, searched and touched. A strange hot shiver ran through Thorn. He could not help feeling they had exchanged something more truly intimate than during any of the times he had bedded Felicity.

  They might have remained locked in that silent, invisible embrace but for the sudden appearance of a toll gate. Thorn wrenched his gaze away from Felicity and dismounted to pay the toll.

  As he handed over the coins, he asked, “I don’t suppose you noticed a hired coach come through here last night carrying a newly wed couple? You’d remember the bride if you glimpsed her—pretty little thing with red-gold curls.”

  “You’re right enough about that, sir,” the man in the toll booth answered. “A lively creature. Pleasant way about her, too. I expect she could charm the birds out of the trees if she had a mind to.”

  “Indeed.” Thorn could feel himself puffing up with an almost paternal pride. “That sounds very like my sister.”

  He had good reason to know it. How often in her younger years had Ivy gotten into some mischief, only to deflect her just punishment with a look that mingled winsome repentance with cheerful impudence?

  Her brother had been helpless to resist it.

  “One thing, though, sir.” The toll clerk’s brow furrowed. “It was only this morning they passed through here, not last night.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Aye, sir. They had a bit of trouble with their carriage, you see, so they stopped here awhile. It took the young gentleman a good three hours to get it repaired.”

  “Did it, indeed?” Thorn passed the man an extra shilling. “I’m obliged to you for the information. How long ago did they leave?”

  The man consulted a battered pocket watch. “I’d say they’ve been gone as long again as they were here. A bit less, perhaps, but not above three hours. I do hope they aren’t in any trouble, sir.”

  “Trouble? Not a bit of it.” With the likelihood of catching his sister and young Armitage by sundown, Thorn did not need to counterfeit a happy humor. “I have some news to deliver they’ll want to hear as soon as possible—good news.”

  “You won’t be long overtaking them with that, sir.” The toll collector pointed toward Felicity’s carriage. “Whatever the young gentleman repaired on their rig, it still wasn’t up to any kind of speed when they left.”

  Thorn thanked the man again, then hurried back to the carriage, towing his mount by the reins.

  “What a long time you’ve been.” Felicity gave him a sharp look. “Whatever were you gossiping about with that toll clerk? You look positively smug.”

  “I was getting word about my sister and your nephew, as a matter of fact.” Thorn tried not to look quite so smug—without success.

  Neither could he resist the temptation to get in a little dig. “If you’d come ahead without me, you might never have found out this valuable bit of information.”

  His earlier fatigue forgotten, he relayed everything he’d learned from the toll collector.

  Felicity listened in silence. One fine dark brow arched gradually higher, a barometer of her interest.

  When Thorn had finished, she smiled rather too sweetly and inquired, “Do you mean to say we’d have caught up with them by now if we hadn’t stopped in Newport this morning?”

  “I…that is…” As Thorn sputtered and scowled, Felicity began to laugh.

  He had heard her laugh before, of course, but never quite like this. Warmer and more robust, it was a most contagious sound.

  Perhaps lack of sleep had made him giddy, or perhaps he just felt the need to laugh at himself after years of taking everything a little too seriously. Whatever the reason, Thorn began to chuckle, then laugh with greater and greater gusto until he could hardly catch his breath.

  “I suppose…that sets us even,” he was able to gasp at last, “for being wrong. What do you say we come to a true agreement on how to proceed next?”

  “It hardly ne
eds a decision, does it?” Felicity dabbed away a tear that her hearty laughter had provoked. “If we are that hot on their heels, we must make all speed until we run them to ground.”

  Thorn nodded. “You’ll get no argument from me on that.”

  “It is very queer, though….”

  “What?”

  “If Oliver and your sister left The King’s Arms last evening bound for Gloucester…” Felicity glanced back down the highway toward Newport as if she expected some explanation to arrive from that direction. “Why did it take them all night to get this far?”

  “A good question.” Thorn chided himself for not thinking of it first. “Further trouble with their coach, perhaps? Or do you suppose they spent the night at Newport, after all, then bribed the innkeeper to misinform us?”

  Felicity shrugged. “I suppose we’ll be able to satisfy our curiosity once we catch them. Now, for the last time, can I not persuade you to ride the rest of the way in the carriage with me? A few more hours of each other’s company isn’t likely to harm either of us…especially if you’re sound asleep.”

  Sorely as the invitation tempted him, Thorn shook his head. “I’ll sleep soundly once I’ve recovered my sister. Until then, we’ll make better time if I ride ahead to pay tolls, open gates and the like.”

  Her look of disappointment almost made him recant, but her brisk tone contradicted it. “Very well, then. If you’re sure?”

  Perhaps he had misread that glance, and she had only tendered the offer out of courtesy. Or to assert her control over their self-appointed mission.

  Thorn mounted his horse. “Should I call Tally-ho? This is beginning to have the feel of a fox hunt.”

  His quip coaxed another chuckle from Felicity. “I only wish we had a good pack of hounds to pick up the scent of our quarry.”

  With that she closed the door of the carriage box, and they started off again at a good brisk pace along the road to Gloucester.