by Anne Ashley
Sophia almost sighed with relief as she rejoined her mother on the sofa. "In that case I shouldn't mind getting away from the capital,, if only for one night. It has become quite warm, quite oppressive of late. The country air will do me good."
"Precisely what I thought myself," the Countess agreed. "So I shall write informing Lord Nicholas that you accept, shall I?"
If Sophia's initial reaction to the unexpected invitation had been less than enthusiastic, by the time Friday had arrived, and she was standing at the parlour window awaiting the arrival of Lady Tabatha's carriage, she had begun to view the impending short sojourn away from town as nothing short of a godsend.
She was finding the changes in her father's personality increasingly difficult to accept and his continued presence in the evenings increasingly claustrophobic. Whenever she turned round, she would discover him hovering nearby, watching, scrutinising her every reaction to the different gentlemen who paid her varying degrees of attention. If he was hoping to see a sudden lovelorn expression take possession of her features, he would wait in vain, for although there were several personable young men in whose company she was more than content to while away an hour or so, no immaculately attired gentleman with whom she could happily spend the rest of her life had yet crossed her path.
And why this sudden urgency to see her married, anyway? she wondered, pondering anew on the question which had plagued her frequently during these past days. She recalled clearly enough that, when they had first arrived in town, the Earl's main concern had seemed to be a determination to protect her from fortune-hunters. Perhaps, in part, this was still the case, but she couldn't help feeling that at some point during the recent past the Earl had, for reasons known only to himself, developed an almost obsessive desire to see her married, or at the very least betrothed, before the Season was over.
She shook her head, still quite unable to account for this drastic change in him. But life was not all doom and gloom, she reminded herself, flatly refusing to allow her father's continuing unreasonable behaviour to mar totally the pleasure she was surprisingly still managing to attain from this, her first Season in the capital. After all, she could still rely on her mother's unfailing support. Thank goodness! How lucky she was too to have friends like Robina Perceval about her to confide in... And then, of course, she now had Ben...
How she had missed him during this past week! she was forced silently to concede. At least, though, they had managed to exchange a few words whenever she had returned to the stables after her daily ride. That wonderful, spontaneous, wide smile of his, always preceding a few reassuring words, never failed to raise her flagging spirits.
Ben continued to be firmly convinced that her father's present melancholy state would not last indefinitely. And one never knew, perhaps he was right, she decided, absently watching a very smart curricle and pair turn into the square. Ben's judgement had most certainly not been at fault when he had predicted that the gossips would swiftly forget about a young lady's seeming infatuation with her groom once they had been provided with tastier morsels to drool over. Lady Caroline Lamb's scandalous exploits, together with those of another high-ranking female personage whose name was being linked these days with a certain member of the royal household, had definitely kept the tattle-mongers' tongues busy of late. Not once during the past two or three days could Sophia recall observing any sly glances cast in her direction. So perhaps it was safe now to resume her daily rides with Ben once she had returned to town, she thought, watching the curricle which had driven into the square a few moments before pull up outside the house.
Sophia had little difficulty in recognising the tall figure jumping down from the smart equipage, once a servant had rushed from the house to hold the horses' heads, and felt her spirits begin to flag a little when Lord Nicholas, not looking too happy himself, entered the room a few moments later. "Has the party been cancelled?" she asked, deciding that this must be the reason for his visit.
"No, no! Nothing like that," he hurriedly assured her, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder at Cardew, who remained standing sentinellike by the door, determined it seemed to protect his young mistress from the unwholesome attentions of young men. "Thing is my aunt's carriage hasn't turned up. Should have arrived over an hour ago. Can only imagine it must have met with an accident."
Sophia considered the matter for a moment before proposing that she make the journey in her father's own well-sprung travelling-carriage, but she could discern by his expression that his lordship was not precisely in favour of this, even before he said, "No need for that. Old Freddy Fortescue and his sister are taking a bolt to the country today. Their grandmother lives only a stone's throw away from my aunt's place, so we can beg a lift with them." He took a moment to glance at the clock. "Chances are they won't have left town yet. With any luck we'll catch them before they set off if we hurry."
He turned, about to retrace his steps into the hall, only to discover his way blocked by the solid figure of the butler. "I think it behoves me to remind you, my lady," Cardew remarked at his most haughty, "that her ladyship gave strict instructions before she left the house earlier that I was to hand you personally into Lady Tabatha Risely's carriage, and no other."
"Yes, but as you've already heard, Cardew, for some reason Lady Tabatha's carriage hasn't arrived, so stop creating unnecessary difficulties by delaying me further and have my overnight bag taken out to his lordship's curricle at once."
"You know, this man of yours has a point, there. Must think of the proprieties," Nicholas put in, earning himself a faint look of approval from the punctilious retainer. "It's all very well for you to travel with me as far as the Fortescues' place, no harm in that at all. But supposing Freddy and his sister have already left? Can't go careering after them with you sitting beside me, unchaperoned, now can I?"
He appeared to ponder over the problem for a moment. "I tell you what, we'll take that groom of yours along with us. Then, if someone does observe us leaving the capital, it'll not cause a stir."
Having anticipated a relatively peaceful afternoon, Ben was mildly surprised when he received the summons to present himself at the front entrance without delay. He knew for a fact that the Earl and Countess were at that very moment being conveyed about the town by the dutiful Trapp in the light town carriage. Sophia, he had been reliably informed, was spending the afternoon and evening out of the capital, so he was hardly expecting to see her, as he rounded the corner from the mews, being assisted into a curricle by an instantly recognisable figure in an expertly tailored bottle-green coat.
Benedict's suspicions were instantly aroused. His brother, as far as he could recall, had never betrayed the least inclination to join the sporting-mad Corinthian set. Feather-edging a corner with less than an inch to spare simply wasn't Nicholas's style at all. So what, he asked himself, was his young brother doing in charge of such a bang-up-to-date turnout which was almost certainly not his own? More importantly, what was the young reprobate doing with the future Duchess of Sharnbrook, when the darling girl ought to have been away from the city long since, enjoying the sweet country air? he wondered, his suspicions increasing alarmingly when he noticed that Nicholas seemed very reluctant to meet his eye.
Sophia experienced no such reservations, and smiled brightly down at him. "You are here to lend me countenance, Ben," she told him when he at last stood beside the carriage and had cast her an enquiring glance. "Lord Nicholas and Cardew, here," she added, as the butler placed her overnight bag beneath the seat himself, "seem to think that my reputation will suffer if I am seen leaving town in an open carriage. Silly, don't you think?"
"No, I do not," Benedict responded with the brutal honesty to which Sophia had grown quite accustomed. "And might I point out that I am a groom and not a duenna. Furthermore, my lady, you should not be contemplating leaving town in this equipage at all!"
In any other circumstances Cardew might have taken the groom roundly to task for daring to answer his young mistr
ess in such a disrespectful fashion. The fact of the matter was, however, he wholeheartedly agreed, and couldn't bring himself to play the hypocrite by administering a strong reprimand.
Nicholas, on the other hand, experienced no such qualms, and gained a deal of perverse pleasure in ordering his big brother to mind his tongue before commanding him in the same brusque manner to climb up on the back of the curricle. He gave him only sufficient time to do so before picking up the reins and giving the splendid pair of matched greys the office to start.
They swept out of the square, a silent trio, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts, but it was not very long before Benedict's curiosity got the better of him and, swallowing his ire, forced himself to enquire where they were bound.
"Curzon Street," Nicholas answered, secretly smiling at the clipped tones. Unless he very much mistook the matter, big brother would dearly love to strangle him. "And with any luck we'll get there in time."
"In time for what, dare I ask?"
"It appears to me, my good man," Nicholas responded, mimicking quite beautifully the haughty disapproval shown by the Yardleys' very correct butler a short while earlier, "that you have the gall to dare anything. I shall take leave to inform you that you are an impertinent devil!" He caught what sounded suspiciously like a suppressed feminine chuckle. "I wonder that you bear with such insolence, Lady Sophia," he continued, enjoying himself hugely, though at the same time well aware he would probably pay dearly later if his brother managed to get him alone. "I certainly would not. The rogue would not last five minutes in my household. Or any other, come to that!"
"Ben is not in the common way, certainly," Sophia was forced to concede, glancing over her shoulder in time to see her groom casting the gentleman on the seat beside her a dagger-look. "We are hoping to catch some friends of Lord Nicholas before they leave town, Ben. Then I shall be suitably chaperoned, and you can return to Berkeley Square."
"And if you are not in time, my lady?"
Ben's question was not an unreasonable one, but Sophia found herself quite unable to answer it, and turned to his lordship for guidance. "Oh, there'll be no problem," Nicholas announced, sounding sublimely unconcerned. "Even if they have already left the house, I dare swear we'll catch up with them long before they've reached the outskirts of the capital."
Unfortunately this did not turn out to be the case. Which certainly did not surprise Benedict in the least, for the perfectly matched greys were not once encouraged to go above a very moderate pace.
Of course his brother might have an excellent reason for maintaining such a slow speed, Benedict decided, as they left the last of the straggling dwellings on the outskirts of the capital behind. The turn-out, he strongly suspected, belonged to one of his brother's friends, and Nicholas was no doubt taking extra care to ensure that neither carriage nor horses sustained any damage at his hands. Or maybe he was hoping to cover as many miles as possible with the same team, and was therefore not overtaxing the greys. Both explanations were plausible, and yet he could not rid himself of the ever-growing conviction that his brother was bent on some mischief.
He turned his attention to the other occupant of the seat, and realised suddenly that during the last few miles Sophia had grown increasingly quiet, and was now looking rather thoughtful. His brother might, indeed, be indulging in some wicked prank, but Benedict doubted very much that his future bride was a party to it. No, unless he much mistook the matter, she was as puzzled as he was himself as to why Nicholas had made no attempt whatsoever to catch up with his friends the Fortescues.
They continued at the same monotonous snail's pace for a further twenty minutes or so, during which time they were overtaken by a variety of carriages including a lumbering coach. Then Nicholas, quite without warning, announced his intention of putting up for a change and, betraying an element of skill, turned the curricle with a flourish into the yard of a very busy posting house.
"Might I be permitted to know where we are bound, my lady?" Benedict asked while his brother, who had swiftly alighted, was busily engaged in issuing orders to an ostler.
"To the home of Lady Tabatha Risely, a relative of his lordship's," she enlightened him, not finding his curiosity remotely suspicious. "If we ever manage to get there, that is."
Not even by the raising of one of his expressive brows did Benedict betray the least surprise at their intended destination, though he found it impossible not to chuckle at his beloved's hint of sarcasm.
Sophia found the deep masculine rumble immensely reassuring and turned in the seat to look directly at the man whom she had never been able to view in the light of a servant. "I'm so very glad you're here, Ben," she told him, unashamedly betraying her thoughts. "I should feel distinctly uneasy if you were not."
Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Nicholas slinking away to disappear into the inn. "Does it seem to you that his lordship has made no attempt whatsoever to overtake his friend's carriage? The Fortescues' servants assured us that the carriage left not half an hour before we arrived at the house. We ought to have caught up with them long since. Most certainly would have done so if you'd held the ribbons!" She was struck by a sudden thought. "I've a mind to suggest that you do take over. And where in heaven's name has Lord Nicholas got to now!" she snapped, allowing mounting irritation to surface.
Something in her expression must have betrayed her feelings of pique, for Nicholas apologised for keeping her waiting the instant he returned. "Just popped inside to ascertain whether or not my friend Freddy has already passed this way."
"It must have been so long ago that I'm surprised the landlord could remember," she retorted, and it took a monumental effort but Nicholas did somehow manage to preserve his countenance.
"The Fortescues do keep fine cattle, so perhaps I was slightly foolish to attempt to overtake them," he acknowledged in a voice which shook only very slightly. "I shan't, however, continue the attempt. Nor shall I delay further in the hope of seeing Aunt Tabatha's carriage come bowling towards us. Instead, I'll try to make up for lost time by taking a little short cut I know," and so saying he turned off the post road.
They continued for several miles down a series of narrow, twisting lanes. As far as Sophia was concerned, the county of Surrey might have been a foreign land. She had no idea of where they were, nor did she even know in which direction they were heading, now that the sun had disappeared behind a thick blanket of cloud. Benedict, too, was not familiar with this route, for although he had paid numerous visits to the home of his elderly maiden aunt in the distant past, he had invariably travelled along the main post roads whenever making the journey.
"I don't think it would be a bad idea at all if we took the time to stop for a short while in order to refresh ourselves," Nicholas suggested as they reached a sleepy little village where a rambling thatched inn, nestling among some trees, stood opposite the church. "I've been here before, and can assure you the fare is excellent. I might even be persuaded to treat that impertinent groom of yours to a tankard," he could not resist adding before bringing his horses to a halt and, ignoring his brother's loud, derisive snort, escorted Sophia into the spotlessly clean, low-ceilinged building.
When his brother, having seen to the comfort of the horses, sauntered in a few minutes later, Nicholas decided that he might as well have been invisible for all the notice that was taken of him. Over the rim of his tankard he studied his companions, and for the second time in the space of a few hours found himself having to exert a monumental effort to maintain his countenance. How his brother had managed to remain employed for this length of time eluded him completely. Benedict was not remotely deferential. In fact, for a "servant" he was appallingly rude! Yet it was quite evident that Sophia didn't appear to mind, or didn't appear to notice, one or the other.
He shook his head. They certainly made an unconventional couple—the Earl's daughter and her golden-haired groom. At least he didn't doubt that they would make a perfect couple, providing nothing went wrong with his
well-laid plans!
Chapter Eleven
When it happened he really ought to have been prepared, ought to have been expecting something to occur sooner or later, and yet Benedict would have been the first to admit that at the time he was taken completely by surprise. One moment they were bowling along the narrow, twisting country lane, hoping against hope that they could manage to reach their destination before that threatening dark bank of clouds, which had been slowly gathering from the west, released its moisture; the next moment they were in the ditch, viewing the landscape from a very peculiar angle, all helplessly watching the offside wheel rolling away along the road ahead of them.
Fortunately none of them was hurt. One of the bays, however, had not been so lucky, and had sustained a slightly strained hock. Although the injury was not serious, the animal could no longer be expected to pull the carriage, even if the equipage were roadworthy. Which it most definitely was not!
At the time Benedict considered that his young brother had had no choice but to take such swift and drastic action in order to avoid a collision with the oncoming carriage, which had been travelling far too swiftly for safety along such narrow lanes. It was only a short time later, after Nicholas had suggested that he journey back to the inn with the horses, and Benedict and Sophia seek shelter until his return at the cottage which stood a little further along the road, that Benedict's suspicions were first aroused, and he began seriously to consider the possibility that the unfortunate occurrence might not have been the innocent accident which it had first appeared.
He glanced over his shoulder in time to see Nicholas, mounted on the healthy bay, and carefully leading the injured animal, disappear round the bend in the road, and decided that it was a stroke of great good fortune that they had met the other carriage along that particular stretch of road, for it was the only place, for some considerable distance, wide enough for two vehicles to pass with care. Chance, or pure contrivance? he couldn't help asking himself. Was it a happy coincidence also that there just happened to be a cottage nearby where shelter might be sought? His eyes narrowed. It was all beginning to appear rather smoky, he decided, blithely entering the cottage after receiving no response to his second knock.
