Earl of Weston_Wicked Regency Romance

by Anna St. Claire

  “Bottom! Bottom!” Archie mimicked proudly. The curate’s cheeks at once turned red.

  “I suppose I am as ready as I can be,” Hattie replied miserably, barely noticing her parrot’s effrontery in the midst of her own distress.

  “Little Whitley Parish will miss having you here,” he replied while lifting her trunk and warily eyeing the large, exotic, green bird.

  “I have never known anywhere else, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. Mrs. Bromley will take care of the flowers for the church, and will organize the sewing for the parish poor. Miss Gates will play the organ,” she prattled on as they stood in the empty entrance hall.

  “Your loss will be felt acutely,” he said kindly. “For many years your family has been selfless servants to our parish.”

  “No one will know I am gone, before long,” she said, dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose with her handkerchief.

  She pushed her spectacles farther up her nose and looked around. The house was empty and, she reflected with a pang of sadness, ready for the next occupants. It had not been a bad life, precisely, but very, very dull. Dull suited her admirably.

  “I suppose there is no use in putting it off any longer. Come, Archie.” Hattie held open the cage and the parrot obediently flew inside. She closed the front door behind her for the last time and walked out to the pony cart, feeling as though she was facing her doom.

  The curate signaled the chestnut mare to move forward and she held onto Archie’s cage with one hand and her bonnet with the other, as the cart lurched forward.

  Harriet Eleanor Longbottom was a spinster. There was no other way to describe herself. She had given up her bloom to be a companion to her ailing mother, who by sly hints or subtle looks had convinced Hattie that she was indispensable to her health. Look at where it had left her, Hattie thought morosely. Somehow, six and twenty years had passed and not once had she left Worcestershire.

  She had been faced with two choices when her mother died, and was grateful to have been permitted any opinion on the matter, for many were not so fortunate. She could live with her aunt, who had forbidden her to bring her beloved companion, Archie, or remove to Oxfordshire to her brother’s estate and play aunt to his brood of five. There was really no choice.

  Now, as she sat on the stage, crowded between two very large and disagreeable men, she was having second thoughts. One was a lecher, Hattie was convinced, for he sat as close as possible and was touching her leg on purpose! The other had never seen a bar of soap, she was certain, and her sense of smell would surely never be the same again.

  It had been a very close thing to even be allowed on the stage with Archie. She had been obliged to pay an exorbitant bribe to the driver and still she had to hold the cage in her lap!

  Across from her, a female of loose morals was displaying, in addition to heavily rouged cheeks, an overabundance of bosom overflowing from her scandalously low-cut scarlet gown. Hattie could not even look her in the eye, she was so ashamed as the woman flirted and exposed her ankles to the lecher.

  The driver was moving at a frightful pace, and the conveyance tipped sideways around every bend in the road. Hattie prayed for all of their souls as steadfastly as she could, or sang hymns to Archie when he grew loud. He did have an unfortunate tendency to repeat words he heard or shriek when he was excited. She had never before considered she might be forced to travel on the stage with him.

  When they stopped in Wolverstone for a change of horses, Hattie was most grateful for a chance to stretch her legs and breathe the fresh air. As she alighted precariously, her legs stiff, while at the same time balancing Archie’s cage on her hip, a pair of riders flew by them, splashing mud all over the passengers and causing Hattie nearly to drop her bird.

  Strings of oaths and curses were bellowed at the riders by driver and passenger alike, many of them words Hattie’s pure ears had never before heard.

  “Shite! Jackass!” Archie mimicked to roars of laughter. The sounds echoed around them.

  “Mind your tongue!” she scolded Archie in horror, shaking her head as she did so. Her spectacles flew off and she heard the ominous sound of glass crushing.

  “Drat!” she muttered, and fell to her knees to search for her faculty of sight. She was quite blind beyond five feet without them.

  While the other passengers hurried inside to take advantage of the chance to refresh themselves, Hattie continued to search on the ground.

  “Are you looking for these?” a deep, aristocratic voice asked. Dimly, Hattie perceived what remained of her spectacles as he held them out to her.

  Something about the man's voice gave her pause and she did not want to look up at him. He was close enough that she could see his gleaming Hessians, and knew he was Quality. Suddenly self-conscious, she wanted to tidy herself before she stood up, but his hand was reaching down to assist her. His hands were large and elegant, even in his leather riding gloves, and they were strong enough to lift her lightly to her feet without apparent effort.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said with a slight tremble in her voice, still too shy to make eye contact, though she could make out most of his features from under her lashes.

  The tall, dark stranger inclined his head and walked into the inn with his companion who had waited nearby, watching.

  Hattie squinted after them, yet could see nothing but blurry movement.

  Suddenly, she felt a pinch to her bottom and squealed in outrage. She turned to see the lascivious passenger; he was evidently amused by his antics as his large belly rumbled and his multiple chins quivered with laughter.

  “How dare you!” she screeched with indignation.

  “How dare you! How dare you!” Archie mimicked.

  The driver blew the warning horn. She had not even managed five feet past the coach. How could it already be time to leave again?

  “Driver!” She raised her voice, trying to get to his attention. “This man assaulted me and I refuse to ride inside with him!”

  “She must be mistaken,” the man said, feigning innocence. “Why would I want to touch her?” He sneered.

  “Sorry, miss. Are there any witnesses?” the driver asked impatiently.

  The other passengers shook their heads.

  “Then we must be going. 'Tis your word against his.”

  Hattie watched as everyone climbed into the coach.

  “I refuse to ride with this man. Sir, I must insist!”

  “As you wish, miss.” The guard slammed the coach door shut and hopped on the back as the driver gathered up the reins with a flick of the whip. The horses took off, splattering mud in her face. Spitting the excess earth from her mouth, she stared after the vehicle in disbelief, the distance growing rapidly as it sped away from her. What had just happened? Was there no goodness left in this world outside Little Whitley?

  Hattie stood there for a full five minutes before she realized the implications of what had happened. She was stranded in a strange town without her belongings, except for a bird and her reticule.

  Turning to face the inn, she picked up the cage and went inside.

  The shabby inn was bustling with custom on this busy coaching road. Never before had she seen so many strangers. It smelled of smoke, sweat, and ale. She swallowed hard so she would not give in to her anger or her fright. Clearing her throat, she addressed the man she hoped to be the innkeeper since he seemed to be giving directions to the serving maids. It was her first time in such an establishment, and she had little idea how to proceed.

  “Sir, could you please tell me when the next stage is due? The one I arrived on has left without me.”

  “Not until tomorrow, the same time,” he grunted, looking at her with disapproval. She glanced down at herself; she had some splatters of mud, but certainly not outrageous in her blacks. Then she realized it was Archie he was staring at, an expression of considerable wariness shaping his features.

  “What is your destination, miss?”

  “I was to take this stage
to Eynsham and my brother is to meet me there.”

  “It is only another few miles. Do you ride? I have horses for hire.”

  “I am afraid not,” she replied.

  “The gentlemen in the parlor are heading west, I think I heard them say.”

  “We are not acquainted,” she said, bristling with affront. As if a single lady could ask a gentleman she did not know for anything, she wanted to point out.

  “They have probably ridden here, anyway. You could walk,” he suggested, clearly running out of patience.

  She stared at the man in horror. She had spent six hours traveling in the most uncomfortable conditions, had been assaulted, and now her worldly possessions were lost.

  “I must attend to the other customers. You may use the parlor, there are only the two gentlemen in there. He pointed to a door across the common room before he walked away. She watched him go, flustered and frustrated that she had no one to help her.

  Hattie made her way as best she could through the blur to where she thought the parlor was. When she entered, she could not believe her eyes. Was she imagining things? She squinted.

  No, there was indeed a barmaid sitting atop the knees of one of the gentlemen—and her chest was falling out of her bodice.

  “I have walked into the devil’s lair!” Hattie shrieked. Imagining the worst, she covered her eyes. She could see enough to know it was the gentleman and his friend from earlier, as the only thing she dared look at was his boots.

  “Bugger, she’s crazed.” The second man laughed as the barmaid tried to tidy herself.

  “Bugger! Bugger! Bugger!” Archie crowed unhelpfully, sensing his mistress’s distress.

  “Madam, cease your vapors at once!” one of the men commanded. “It is not at all what you think.”

  “I do not want to know, you imp of Satan! I know all about gentlemen such as yourself—whoremongers and, and rogues! Reverend Hastings reminds me every Sunday.” She struggled to think of harsh enough names to call them.

  “I am certain he does,” the man said dryly.

  Hattie’s cheeks began to heat as she noticed the man looking her over like a piece of beefsteak. He was entirely too close for her comfort. Oh, no, he would not find her willing as the serving wench. She took Archie and ran for the door as fast as her feet would go. Five miles suddenly did not seem so far to walk.

  Chapter 2

  Edward and Bergen finished their lunch of mutton pie and ale, content to have had time to rest whilst the ostlers rubbed down and fed their horses.

  “I do not know when I have enjoyed lunch more. I have not laughed so much in an age.” Bergen mounted his large black gelding and the two men set off for Eynsham. “I fear your touch with the females continues, my friend. I must say, though, we picked the best place to stop. Where else might we have gotten such delightful entertainment?"

  “I agree, my friend! I was trying to decide whether the circus was also staying at the inn.” Edward laughed at the memory. “That young lady and her screaming bird…it did indeed feel good to laugh.”

  “You imp of Satan! Imp, imp, imp,” Bergen mimicked.

  The intonation was a perfect mimic of the bird. Edward could not help but chuckle, which sent them off hooting with laughter, until a piercing shriek startled the horses.

  “It came from around the bend, just ahead.” Edward pulled back on the reins, steadying his mare as she sidled and attempted to swing round.

  "Easy, girl." He patted her sleek neck.

  “Bugger. Whoremongers! Bugger. Whoremongers!”

  “Could it be?” Bergen chortled, his dark hair wild from the ride.

  “After you, my friend. There is only one way to find out.”

  The two men nudged their horses forward. As they rounded the bend in the narrow, tree-lined road, they spotted the woman from the inn, doggedly walking, carrying her bird cage propped on her right hip.

  “Were you not recently at the Roaring Lion Inn?” Edward could not resist enquiring.

  The unprepossessing female looked up and squinted at them, her upper lip almost touching her nose from the effort, but said nothing. Instead, she kept walking.

  “Bugger! Whoremongers!” the bird crowed the words.

  “Archie, please be quiet.” The woman tapped the cage with her free hand.

  “Archie? His name is Archie?” Bergen's tone was teasing.

  “Yes, do you find that amusing, my lord? I confess that I am at a loss as to why the name Archie would be humorous to you. He is my long-time companion, and a wonderful friend,” she replied defensively.

  Edward cleared his throat. “Mayhap we can be of assistance, my lady.” Somewhat belatedly, he had realized that her polished accents, as well as her clothing, even as mud-stained as they were, were Quality. Her dull brown hair hung in disarray about her pale cheeks, and he was reminded that her hair had been in a severe chignon when he last saw her. The loose hair softened her appearance considerably, he noticed.

  “Whoremongers!” Archie filled in the silence.

  “Archie! Please, hush.” The woman’s face blazed with embarrassment. “I fear I must apologize for his chatter. He is nervous.”

  “May we inquire your destination, miss?” Bergen offered. “This would not be the best road for a lady to be traveling…” His throat worked. “...with a parrot.”

  “I have had an abominable day already, thank you,” she answered tartly. “I hope you are enjoying yourself at my expense, my lord. For your information, I was abandoned by the stage-coach, which left with all of my belongings except for Archie. I did not get a chance to eat, either, due to…” She broke off with a cough. “Well, you know what prevented me from doing so.” The lady continued walking without turning to look at either rider.

  Edward stayed quiet, considering. They certainly could not allow her to walk along this road. Highwaymen were known to frequent this road, aided by the thick trees and brush that flanked both sides of the road for long stretches at a time.

  “Perhaps we could start by introducing ourselves, since we lack some acquaintance to perform this office.” He hoped this would not be a mistake he would regret. “My name is Weston,” he said, “and this is Lord Bergen.” Signaling to his friend, he stopped his horse and dismounted. Bergen followed his lead and they began to walk alongside the lady and her outlandish bird.

  He waited for her to introduce herself.

  Begrudgingly she replied, “Miss Longbottom.”

  Clearing his throat—Edward assumed to prevent further ill-timed and riotous laughter—Bergen joined in, perhaps also realizing this woman needed help. “Miss, might we inquire where you are going?”

  “My lords, I assure you, I am quite…splendid.” She puffed the last word, clearly tiring from the exertion of carrying the parrot and his cage.

  “My lady, would you care to share the nature of your destination? Lord Bergen and I would be happy to be of assistance. In good conscience, we cannot ride on and leave a lady alone in such circumstances, even with a…companion.”

  “We are appointed to meet with my brother. He will surely be looking for my arrival this afternoon. I am to meet him in Eynsham, at the post-house.”

  Edward looked at Bergen. “Miss Longbottom, we, too, are journeying west and Eynsham is but a few miles along our route. As we are travelling in the same direction, I propose that we dispense with niceties and turn to more practical matters. The weather is chilly, with intermittent periods of cold rain, and you appear to be—quite understandably—tired.” He stopped and took a breath, unsure he really wanted to do what he was about to do. “My lady, can you ride?”

  Miss Longbottom squinted at them. “Sir, I do not,” she replied in a most precise tone. “What are you suggesting?”

  “That we take you up with us, miss. We assure you, we are honorable in our intentions, and only wish to deliver you safely to your destination so you may meet your brother.” Edward half hoped she would decline and he could continue his journey, knowing he had b
een a gentleman.

  Miss Longbottom looked around, peering first at her surroundings and then up at the strangers. “I cannot handle a horse, my lord.”

  “Of course. But I was proposing you merely ride. I will handle the horse. You can ride with me. I know this is not what you would wish, but I am a gentleman, and you are a lady in need of…” He struggled for the right word. He did not want to laugh. “In need of assistance,” he concluded after a moment.

  Bergen offered his help. “I will be much obliged to carry your…Archie.” He bit his lip and kept a straight face, although Edward could see the effort it took.

  “Well, I do not know what to say.” She looked down at her mud-stained boots, and then at her bird.

  “Obliged to help! Whoremongers!” Archie shrieked, repeating Edward’s words of a moment ago.

  The two men looked at each other and grinned. This could be one of the more interesting trips he had taken, Edward mused, watching the parrot prattling on with his new favorite phrase.

  “It seems that Archie is game,” Edward suggested, allowing a grin to spread across his face.

  “Archie is not terrified of horses and has his own cage,” she countered.

  She bit her lip, a determined look to her face. Edward could see she was struggling with the decision.

  “You promise me that I will be safe in the saddle with you? I have not forgotten those wicked scenes in the parlor.”

  “I assure you, Athena is a gentle mare.” He would make sure of it.

  “And yourself?” She looked up at him bravely, and at last he could see her eyes. They were an ocean-blue and mesmerizing.

  “My lady, as I said earlier, it was not as it seemed. The serving wench dropped a bowl of hot soup over her dress and we were attempting to help blot up the hot liquid before she scalded herself.” Edward returned wryly.

  “Sir, her bosoms were on display,” she bit out, her cheeks bright red from having said such a word.

  Tedious, righteous virgins, Edward thought in disgust. Why were they bothering? He wanted to stop this ridiculous display of chivalry and let the silly chit keep walking with her bird... but his upbringing would not allow him.