He turned from the window, only to catch a glance of Octavia rising in response to a gesture from the proprietor. It was with some surprise that he watched her follow the fellow into a small storage room, then emerge a short time later with a heavy blanket in her hands, twisted together to form a makeshift sack.
"Are the two of you ready to leave?" he inquired, on coming up to her side. His brows couldn't help but arch at the sight of the bundle in her arms.
She ignored his questioning look. "Yes. As the weather looks to be worsening, we should at least try to cover some of the miles between us and our goal." Her manner was cool, but no more than he expected.
Alex's head inclined a fraction. "Then I shall give notice that the horses are to be readied." Though he was only outdoors for a brief time, his cheeks were ruddy with cold when he came stomping back in.
Octavia laid a hand on his sleeve as he bent to pick up her small valise and that of Emma's. "A moment, Mr. Sheffield." She withdrew a sturdy pair of felt boots and a thick fur hat from the recesses of the blanket. "I believe you may be a bit more comfortable in these."
His face betrayed his utter surprise. "What?"
"You will catch your death of cold if you try to drive wearing what you have on."
He was speechless for a moment. "How did you manage to come by these?"
"I purchased them, of course." She gestured to the blanket. "And several more blankets and other things that may come in useful."
"You brought those for me?" he asked, unable to keep the note of incredulousness out of his voice.
A ghost of a smile crossed her lips. "You needn't make a fuss about it. They are hardly tokens of endearment, Mr. Sheffield. It is in my interest to see to it that you do not expire before we reach St. Petersburg."
His lips quirked upward too. "Even though what you really wish is to take a poker to my skull for my behavior of last night."
"Or some other part of your anatomy."
He gave a bark of laughter. "I shall have a care in your proximity, knowing full well you are quite capable of putting me in my place."
There was a brief pause. "Then let me start now. If we are to rub along together without constant sparks, you will kindly cease such crude attentions. Your amorous games may be amusing to you, but I do not find then so. Not in the least."
"Games?"
"Oh come now, don't play the fool. I have seen you are no such thing. And as I have told you before, you are much more interesting to be with when you do not feel impelled to play the hardened wastrel." Her voice lowered. "And it is not setting a good example for the children."
With a start, he realized her words, though couched as a set down, only had the effect of lightening his dark mood. It was a long time since anyone had spoken to him as if he were capable of doing the right thing. Indeed, she seemed to be implying that she did not consider him completely beyond the pale.
"So, do we have an agreement?" she went on.
He regarded her with an inscrutable expression. "Very well, Miss Hadley. No games."
* * *
The sleigh veered precariously to one side. "Steady! You must try not to jerk the reins, but rather use a steady pressure." Alex's mittened hands came over hers. "Like so."
In an instant, the horses had steadied their gait and swung back to the center of the narrow road.
Octavia muttered an oath under her breath as she sought to manage the tangle of leather.
"You are doing a very credible job," he added.
She had indeed insisted on learning to handle the team, and no amount of argument had blunted her determination. He had finally relented, trusting that a few minutes on the box would serve better than words to convince of her folly. However, she had surprised him once again, showing her mettle in yet another way.
She grimaced but was able to control a sway to the left on her own. "Actually, I do believe I am getting the hang of it. Perhaps you would like to go inside and rest for a bit. I promise I shall not drive us into a ditch or shatter a runner."
"Are not you cold and tired yourself?"
She shot him a quick glance. "You appear to need it more than I."
Alex looked away for a moment. "Don't worry," he answered in a clipped voice. "I am well able to function, no matter what it may appear."
Octavia made no reply but kept her eyes leveled on the road ahead. It was only after several miles had passed that she spoke up again.
"Why?"
Alex's head came up with a start. "Why what?"
"Why do you feel compelled to submerge your talents in such superficial behavior?"
This question, of all the ones raised that morning, was perhaps the most blunt. Yet it cut more deeply than the others. "Have a care for that rock," he snapped. "And my actions are none of your deuced business."
She guided the horses around the obstacle. "You are quite right. They are not."
An awkward silence descended over them, broken only by the rustle of the heavy pine boughs and the creaking of the old sled.
"Sorry, " he finally muttered. "I expect I owe you an apology, both for now and for last night."
Octavia's features remained impassive. "You owe me nothing, Mr. Sheffield. As you have so rightly reminded me, your personal matters are none of my concern. I am quite aware that neither of us would have chosen the current situation, since we are exact opposites."
Alex seemed to remember from his scientific studies that opposites could attract.
"But we can at least try not to raise each other's hackles," she continued. "Now, don't you wish to retire inside for a short while?"
He found himself breaking into a grin. "No doubt it will be more peaceful up here, despite our differences." He cocked his ear. "Though as of yet, I've not heard anything that might indicate things have escalated into a full scale war."
"I must admit, I have resorted to a bit of underhanded manipulation in order to defuse the situation."
"Oh?"
"Well, knowing Emma's penchant for the melodramatic, I fear I rather exaggerated the danger that Nicholas may be in. She is now in alt at finding herself in the midst of an adventure suitable for Mrs. Radcliffe's pages, so I would not be surprised if her attitude towards the lad has undergone a distinct change."
Alex laughed. "My tack was to inform Nicholas, in great detail, of how Emma had saved me from imminent harm with her bravery. He was suitably impressed." His eyes glinted with amusement. "Really though, I should not have expected you to allow such frivolous readings as Mrs. Radcliffe into your course of studies."
"We all need a bit of escape from the everyday. Besides she is an excellent writer."
"I should have expected no less of you than to defend a female author, however prone to descriptive excess."
Her own eyes took on a decided twinkle. "Why, Mr. Sheffield, one would almost imagine that you had read such works yourself." As his chuckle subsided she added, "As for female authors, Jane Austen is also among our favorites."
"Ah, Miss Austen. Now that is another matter...."
The conversation turned into a spirited sojourn through English literature of the past fifty years. Though Alex insisted on taking over the reins when the road narrowed into a particularly steep and winding incline, the change in drivers did nothing to slow the pace of their opinions. Ideas galloped back and forth, engendering both shared laughter and heated argument over nuances of meaning and intent. Alex realized he hadn't enjoyed himself so much in years. He had nearly forgotten how stimulating an intelligent conversation was—even more so than the usual activities he was accustomed to with females. But then, this was a most unusual female.
It was with a real twinge of regret that he broke off a debate on the merits of the Lake Poets just as it was heating up, for he suddenly noticed that Octavia's lips had turned a rather ghastly shade of blue and her cheeks had gone from red to white. His mitten came up to brush the tip of her frozen nose. "Into the sleigh with you now. I'll not have my tiger turning into a block o
f ice."
"You speak as if you are familiar with such luxuries. I did not think penniless tutors could afford anything like a tiger," she said lightly, reluctant herself to end the discussion.
"No, of course not," he replied quickly. "I meant the other sort."
A spasm of emotion flickered across her face. "You think me all fangs and claws?"
He eyed her for a moment. "Tigers have a silky softness to them as well. And the strength that lurks beneath their lithe curves only adds to the fascination."
The color returned to her cheeks. "Mr. Sheffield," she warned. "I thought you promised not to indulge in such blatant nonsense."
"Hmm." He pulled the horses to a halt and got down from his perch. "Though we may argue over the finer points of rhyming couplets until the Neva freezes over, I'll brook no resistance from you about going inside for a time."
Though Octavia had taken the precaution of securing a pair of warm felt boots and a flapped fur hat for herself, she found the cold had still penetrated every muscle, making even the slightest movement a chore. Grateful for his outstretched arms, she allowed him to help her to the ground. "Very well. But only if you join us for a brief respite. Surely you must hungry by now. I had the proprietor make up a parcel of bread, cheese and something I assume is pickled cabbage. Perhaps we might even kindle a fire for some hot tea."
His hands seemed to remain around her waist a touch longer than was necessary. "I suppose it would do no harm to rest for a while." He let go of her and started toward the door. "Still no sounds of battle," he said in a low voice. "Either peace has been declared or the casualties have been heavy."
Though she smiled, his words also brought a guilty expression to her face. "We have left them to their own devices for an inordinate amount of time. I don't know how the hours could have passed so quickly..."
Alex opened the carriage door. At first there was no movement inside, only the soft murmur of a voice, a female voice, from the far corner. "...It was a still moonlight night, and the music, which yet sounded on the air, directed her steps from the high road, up a shadowy lane, that led to the woods..." Then slowly Emma looked up from the book in her lap as she became aware of the two adults peering in.
From beside her came a strangled gasp. "Don't stop now, Miss Emma! What is going to happen to her in the woods?"
Octavia fought to keep a straight face. "I believe you will survive the suspense until after a bit of luncheon, Nicholas. Emma, kindly hand me the parcel at your feet."
The girl reluctantly laid aside the leather bound volume. "Oh, very well."
"Alex," exclaimed his young cousin. "We are reading a most enjoyable tale in which—"
"Yes, I am familiar with The Mysteries of Udolpho. You have yet to come to the really good parts, with dungeons and fainting heroines."
The boy's eyes lit up.
"Why does the heroine always have to faint? I wouldn't faint," groused Emma as she passed the bulky oilskin package to Octavia. "Why can't the hero faint sometimes?"
"Men don't faint," scoffed the boy. "Only—"
"It does seem shockingly unfair," murmured Alex quickly before the truce between the two young people could be broken. "Apparently Mrs. Radcliffe did not have the good fortune to meet such formidable females as our present company, else her tale would be great deal more... interesting. Don't you agree, Miss Hadley?"
Octavia tried to ignore the dancing blue eyes and teasing smile, but a little shiver coursed down her spine that had nothing to do with the weather. "Come along, all of you," she said briskly. "We should not linger overly long if we wish to reach the next inn before nightfall."
* * *
It was, however, well past dark by the time the little party pulled to a halt before a timbered structure even more ramshackle than the previous stop. Alex helped the others down from the interior of the sled, having insisted that Octavia go inside with the young people for the last few hours of the journey. For some reason, she had not argued.
Smoke from a leaky stove swirled around the small public room, but it was at least warm, and the few other travelers hunched in their seats paid them little heed. After choosing at a table in the far corner, Alex went to inquire about supper and lodging for the night.
"Cabbage soup," he announced with a grimace on his return. "I vow, I shall shortly grow long ears and a fluffy white tail if this keeps up. It is almost enough to make one long for the execrable meals at Whites—"
Octavia looked at him oddly.
"—The White Swan, that is," he went on hastily. "In Whitechapel. The food is terrible but it is a pleasant enough place to meet one's friends."
Emma and Nicholas had brought the book with them. Heads bent low over the open pages, they were soon engrossed in finishing off another chapter. Their excited whispers rose and fell with the rhythms of the gothic prose.
"I see that Montoni and company have not yet lost their appeal," remarked Alex.
Octavia heaved a mock sigh. "I may be forced to reconsider your remark on a certain author being prone to excess sensibilities, especially when forced to endure several hours of such work read aloud by two enthusiastic twelve-year-olds." She shook her head. "Whose performance, I might add, would no doubt match anything seen on the boards in London."
Alex chuckled. "Good Lord, what a day you have had of it. A fine choice—faced with either the exuberance of the innocent or the cynicism of the jaded."
She took a sip of her soup. "Is that how you see yourself?"
There was a slight pause. "That is how others see me."
"That is not what I asked."
He looked away, toward where the innkeeper had set down the bottle of vodka he had ordered along with the meal. Instinctively his hand reached out and filled the glass sitting next to it. As he brought it to his lips, he caught sight of her expression. Had it been one of simple disapproval, he would have drained the contents and poured another. But it was more a mixture of concern, tinged with... disappointment?
Suddenly the clear liquid felt like hot coals in his mouth. After a small swallow, he placed the glass aside.
"Emma?" said Octavia softly.
The girl's head had sunk perilously close to her half-finished bowl of soup. At the sound of her name, she started in her chair, nearly sending the book and the rest of her supper crashing to the floor.
Alex pushed one of the stubby tallow candles across the table to Nicholas. "Perhaps you might take Miss Emma's bag and see her to her room while I assist Miss Hadley with the rest of our things."
No grimace or yelp of protest followed the request. Rather, the lad jumped to attention and tucked the small valise under one arm as he reached out with the other to take the open book from Emma's lap. He closed it carefully and offered it back to her.
Emma hesitated. "You may keep it for tonight, if you like. But only if you promise not to peek ahead!"
Nicholas looked suitably awed with the treasure being entrusted to him. "I promise."
The two young people made their way through the shadows to a set of narrow stairs as Octavia and Alex gathered the rest of their meager belongings. "Isn't is amazing how quickly sworn enemies can become allies?" she remarked, watching the lad stop to free the hem of Emma's dress from where it had caught on a rusty nail.
"Yes, isn't it," murmured Alex. He took up the remaining candle. For an instant, his gaze lingered on the nearly full bottle of spirits, but then he wrenched it away and forced his steps in the opposite direction. Octavia followed several paces behind.
The hallway at the top of the stairs was nearly pitch black, save for a faint sliver of moonlight coming through a tiny window. He paused by the door to her room and moved the light to shine on the flimsy iron latch.
"Good night, Mr. Sheffield. At this rate it appears we shall soon be in St. Petersburg without further incident."
The shadows cast by the taper danced and flickered, hiding a good part of his face. "Yes, it seems the danger was exaggerated."
Octavi
a's pulse quickened. He was very wrong, she thought. The journey was proving more dangerous than she had ever imagined. Attacks on her person, the threat of poverty, the callous indifference of the outside world—these were all assaults she could stand up to without flinching. But suddenly the carefully constructed wall around her feelings, one which she had thought quite impenetrable, was in dire peril of crumbling in the face of a charming rogue. Those quixotic slate blue eyes, hardened one moment, vulnerable the next, were threatening to leave her utterly defenseless.
What a fool! Why, he would hardly notice her existence if there was anything else in a skirt to chase, she reminded herself.
She raised her eyes enough to catch a glimpse of the dark and light playing over his lean features. His character, too, was a study in contrasts. Wit and intelligence warred with the forces of reckless abandon. A keen sense of honor sought to keep jaded cynicism at bay.
But enough! It was ridiculous that she, a mature female, was mooning on as if she was an impressionable miss still in the schoolroom. Or even worse, a flighty heroine in a Radcliffe novel!
His hand came over hers as she fumbled with the door. "Take the candle with you." He opened her palm to receive the holder, bending slightly so that his face was mere inches from hers. "Good night, Miss Hadley. It has been a most interesting afternoon. I look forward to exploring... other subjects with you."
Octavia swallowed hard. "Mr. Sheffield, must I remind you about—"
"Playing games? No, you do not."
There was a slight movement, and her heart skipped a beat as she thought he might attempt to kiss her. When he simply straightened and stepped away into the darkness, she wasn't sure whether she was relieved or disappointed.
Chapter 11
Another wave slapped against the side of the hull, sending a icy spray of salt water over the hunched shoulders hanging over the leeward rail.
Andrea Pickens - [Lessons in Love 03] Page 14
