by Julia Donner
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone familiar standing under the inn’s outside lamp. An idea formed. “This is what we shall do. A club member of mine has just gone into the inn. After you’re settled in a private dining room, I’m going to ask him to stay with you while I make other arrangements to get to Rolands. This team is spent and hiring and hitching another one will take time. Can you wait alone if you’re behind a locked door?”
She paused to think before asking, “I shan’t be alone if your friend is with me. Nonetheless, do you have a pistol with you?”
Startled by the question, it took a moment to collect his wits. Then he recalled her interest in firearms. He had thought she was merely being polite.
“You can shoot?”
“Yes, Lord Grieves. Not as accurate as you, of course, but I can hit a target directly in front of me.”
Pinching back a smile, he nodded his head at a leather case on the seat where he’d sat. “That’s a brace of Asterly’s. I don’t habitually carry weapons on social calls.”
That brought a wry smile to her mouth. “I shall be fine while you make arrangements. Once inside, there’s always an iron of some sort by the fireplace.”
“It shouldn’t come to that. I’ll only be a moment.”
He set the pistol case on her seat and swung out of the carriage, saying to the coachman. “Wait here. Allow no one to approach the coach doors.”
People congested the inn’s noisy foyer. He paused to search for the pitch-black hair and arresting bearing of the man he’d seen outside the inn and found him standing under the arched doorway to the tavern.
Freddy stepped up to him and nodded a bow, “Carnall, a surprise and good fortune to find you here.”
Lord Carnall raised a slim, black eyebrow. “Don’t see why it should be. There’s a horse fair tomorrow and a mill the day after.”
“Leave it to an Irishman to ferret out the best of the horseflesh. Might I ask a favor?”
Carnall lifted his chin slightly. Again, the eyebrow quirked. “Given your reputation, this must involve a female.”
“A lady, sir. She’s under the protection of the Asterlys.”
Two men approached and tipped their hats, which forced Freddy and Carnall to step away from the tavern entrance and move toward the counter, where Carnall murmured, “If I remember correctly, this thoroughfare leads directly to Marshfield. How may I be of service to you?”
“I would be obliged if you didn’t ask questions and merely stayed with the lady while I make other arrangements.”
“You have lodging here? I was told they were over capacity.”
“And you may have our rooms, sir, for staying with the lady for a quarter hour.”
When Carnall bowed in wordless agreement, Freddy went to the innkeeper. “Rooms have been set aside by Mr. Crimm of Asterly House.”
The tall, spindly figure at the desk bowed low and worked thin lips into an ingratiating smirk. “My Lord Grieves, just so. Mr. Crimm is familiar to us, naturally, and Lord and Lady Asterly frequently grace us with their presence. Two sets of rooms have been set aside with private dining arrangements. We also have lodging for servants.”
Freddy accepted a quickly dipped quill to sign the register, remembering at the last moment to use his title. Setting down the quill, he asked, “Your name?”
The innkeeper bowed again. “Pennyworth, my lord.”
Freddy sensed Carnall taking in every word. “Excellent, Pennyworth, but we shall not be staying. No dismay, if you please. I have no doubt Mr. Crimm sent payment for the lodging. Keep that but give one set of rooms to Lord Carnall. I shall only need a private dining room on the ground floor for a few hours. After a hot meal, my companion and I shall press on to Marshfield.”
Pennyworth handed the quill to Carnall, saying, “It shall be exactly as you wish, Lord Grieves, but there is talk of ill weather.”
“So I have heard, but the lady I accompany has made her wishes clear. A nourishing soup, if you have it.”
Pennyworth rotated the register to admire the names scrawled on the page. “And the best of my cellar, my lords. I had a quite tolerable claret laid down last week.”
Hiding his urgency to return to Evangeline, Freddy said, “Very good, Pennyworth, and my compliments. Now, where is that private room?”
As the innkeeper scuttled around the desk and bowed his way down the passageway, Freddy followed, and behind him heard Carnall’s sarcastic murmur, “Grieves is dead. Long live the new Grieves.”
“I asked for assistance, Carnall, not commentary.”
As soon as Carnall was left to cool his heels in a private parlour, Freddy strode away to fetch Evangeline. When he opened the coach door, he saw her perched on the edge of the forward seat. The knitting bag dangled by its strings from one arm. She held the pistol case in a desperate grip against her chest.
He extended his hand to her. “They wouldn’t be much use, since they’ve not been primed and loaded.”
“But holding them did offer a modicum of comfort.”
She handed him the gun case and descended without his assistance. Head bowed and with a firm grip on the bag she carried, she moved swiftly with him into the inn. In the dining parlour, she stopped and stood rooted when she discovered the man sitting at the table. Freddy understood her hesitation. Even though his manner of languid sangfroid was typical of the buck-about-town, Carnall projected an aura of annoyance and menace of which he was not aware.
“He’s a friend,” Freddy whispered and tried to tug Evangeline’s resistive body forward. She refused to budge. “May I present the Marquis of Carnall? Carnall, this is Mrs. Merrick, companion to Lady Asterly and respected friend of Lord Asterly. Ma’am, Carnall has graciously accepted to act as escort until I can make arrangements.”
Freddy glanced at Evangeline’s tight-lipped objection. He hoped his meaningful stare conveyed that he didn’t want her left alone in an inn crammed to the roof with footloose men on the lookout for a good time. The underlying reason was that he had a strong suspicion that Evangeline’s description had been given and inquired about on all the post roads in Kent.
Before she could say no, he murmured, “Please understand. I can’t leave you unprotected and must make arrangements. I won’t be long. I’ve ordered you a meal. Sit and rest. What lies ahead will not be easy. Will you do that for me?”
Chapter 11
Evangeline’s resistance faded as she looked up into the entreaty in his eyes. Good sense made her nod. Impatience made her jerk her chin away when he attempted to pacify her with a caress on her cheek.
The door clicked shut when Grieves left. She stared at it a moment before she turned, feeling as bereft as when he’d left her alone in the carriage outside the inn. He’d asked her to be strong. With a lift of her chin and the straightening of her spine, she firmed her resolve.
Lord Carnall had stood when she entered. After a bow and a gesture to the table, he watched and waited.
Tall and whipcord slender, Carnall’s shiny ebony hair and eyes made his pale complexion appear almost white. For a moment, she stood transfixed by his regard. She felt no fear, if for no other reason than her confidence that Grieves would never put her in the care of someone who would hurt her. The feeling of being caught in the snare of Carnall’s gaze came from the lack of expression in his eyes. It wasn’t the flat stare of the evil-hearted—Carnall’s gave away nothing as to what he might be thinking. She likened his lack of expression to looking at a blank wall. The slight smile that altered his mouth was at odds with his austere facade. Even more disconcerting was the contrast of his cold demeanor with his lips, which were those of a sensualist.
Evangeline blinked to reject the mesmerizing effect. She stood her ground when he came forward, his hand extended to escort her to the table. He led her to a chair that faced the door. She liked his subtlety, and that he understood the awkward state of her affairs, but she didn’t care to know how much he’d been told about her present situation.
Carnall gave directions when the meal was presented. He sent back a tureen of soup after his hand tested the container and found it cold. Then he sat and acted as if the innkeeper and servants didn’t exist.
The innkeeper, Pennyworth, scuttled around the room, ordering sluggish lackeys and frequently bowing. His groveling gnawed at her nerves and activated suspicions. Who had intimidated the man more, Carnall or Grieves?
Knowing she must, Evangeline accepted the portion of capon Carnall sliced and the vegetables he selected. She smiled an acceptance when he suggested, “The hock is tolerable, but the claret is better.”
“I prefer reds, if you please.”
“Certainement, madame.”
She accepted the claret he poured with a hum of thanks and the realization that he discerned the accent she’d never been able to fully eradicate. Carnall indulged her by carrying on a mediocre conversation in French while they dined.
In an attempt to play her part, she commented, “You are fluent, sir.”
His mobile lips curved into a self-deprecating smile. “The gaming establishments of Paris have for me a certain enchantment.”
She sliced in half a turnip she would never eat. “The wars must have proved an impediment to your entertainments.”
Grieves came through before Carnall could reply. He took off his hat, shrugged out of his coat, and took a chair on the opposite end of the table from Carnall, who stood to prepare a plate. Evangeline gestured to the decanters in the center of the table. Grieves pointed at the claret.
Between swift bites, he explained, “If anyone hunting us is still at this inn, we shall provide them with a trail. I’m sending you and a maid up to the room Carnall will have. Go through the motions of readying for bed. When the maid leaves, redress and go to the window. It’s only a short drop to the ground from the sill. Carnall might be persuaded to help ease you down. I’ll be waiting below. Do you ride?”
“Not well. I was never taught.”
“Then you’ll ride with me. On horseback, the journey takes half the time. Rolands is still hours from here by carriage. Carnall, if you would, pass along more of the chicken and potatoes.”
Evangeline set down her fork. “Where are we going, if not to Rolands?”
“Harry keeps a shooting and fishing lodge. It will be closed up early for the winter and because he has plans to go out of the country. Carnall, I would be obliged if you would put it about that we decided not to stay and continued to Marshfield to avoid the weather. We should be at the lodge in a few hours.”
Lord Carnall had eaten little and said while pouring himself more claret, “I am indebted to you for the lodging and happy to assist. When Mrs. Merrick goes upstairs, perhaps we could devise a story that will break down in the telling in a way you should like.”
Grieves smiled. “It was a bit of luck to run into a canny fellow like you, Carnall. I am in your debt.”
The gentlemen stood when Evangeline rose from the table and curtsied to them. Grieves opened the door and signaled to a maid waiting in the passage.
Taking Evangeline’s hand and bowing over it, he said, “I bid you a good night, ma’am.”
Evangeline followed the maid up the steps with the intention of sending her away. Most of her gowns fastened in the front so that she didn’t require assistance. More significantly, she sensed the girl’s curiosity. A woman arriving at an inn with one man, dining with two, then going to the room of the man who wasn’t her original escort, would cause anyone to wonder.
The maid poured out the tin of water left to warm on the fireplace settle. Evangeline dismissed the girl and relished the privacy for the refreshment of a partial bath. After re-combing her hair and replacing her cap, she stretched out on her side across the bed. She cuddled the treasure box to her chest while she waited.
A tap on the door came as her eyes were beginning to droop. She opened the door to Carnall, who placed a finger over his lips and gestured with his head to the window. Taking her hand, he opened the window with the other and leaned over the sill to look down. With a murmured apology, he scooped Evangeline up in his arms and thrust her, feet-first, out the window.
Evangeline choked on a gasp when she was swiftly lowered into the out-stretched arms of Grieves, who waited below on horseback. He settled her sideways on the pad of a folded blanket across his lap.
“The tapestry bag on the bed,” she whispered up at Carnall, whose head disappeared. He returned a moment later and leaned out the window to lower it by the strings. She clutched the memory box to her chest. Grieves gestured for her to give it to him and tipped his head at the saddlebags. Shaking her head, she lifted the strings around her head and shoulder, and settled the box on her lap, out of the way of the reins.
Grieves saluted his thanks to Carnall and directed the horse along a narrow path between the trees. Evangeline said nothing as they quietly plodded away from the inn. The swish of the bushes they passed and the soft thud of the horse’s hooves became more distinct as they left behind the noise of the tavern on the far side of the inn.
The experience of being in a man’s arms felt as comforting as it was disquieting. The sideways position would have been uncomfortable, if not for the pad that shielded her from the saddle pommel and the hard ridges of his thighs. Even though there was padding, her derriere gradually sank deeper between his legs. She talked herself into ignoring the embarrassing placement of her bottom.
She waited until they were far from the inn to speak. Unable to keep the nervousness from her voice, she said, “This is a very large horse.”
“Yes. I chose him precisely for that. These big fellows have a gentle canter. It will make for an easier ride for you.”
“How far must we go?”
“The post road would get us there sooner, but it’s one of the most traveled roads in the county. Carriages use it day and night, and the posting inn is always busy. Although the chance of being seen is small, it’s also much more difficult to follow us at night.”
“How can you know which way?”
He pointed up. “Directions, until the clouds return.”
The back of her head hit his shoulder when she looked. A sparkling array of stars filled the black dome overheard. A milky, half moon hung, like a tipping bowl. “My, aren’t they wonderful? I’ve never seen them so clearly before.”
“Which tells me you’ve spent your life in towns and cities. The lamplight and coal smoke block the panorama overhead. Out here, where there’s nothing but the occasional tree branch in the way, it provides a map. Or for as long as the weather holds. I suspect the clouds will return before long,”
She glanced up at the cleft in his chin then quickly away. “You studied navigation?”
“Like many boys, I once fancied the idea of going to sea.”
“Sir, you are giving me the idea this is more of an adventure than an inconvenience.”
His teeth flashed white in the dark when he smiled. “And you would be perfectly right. Evangeline, you needn’t sit so straight and stiff. Relax. Lean back and try to rest. With luck on our side, we might reach the lodge before midnight.”
She did as he suggested, gingerly at first. The rhythmic sway of the horse’s smooth gait and solid warmth of his lordship’s torso helped her to relax. The cold lump of fear within her chest eased. As Grieves had said, the horse had a rocking, soothing lope. Exhaustion pulled at her soul. The weight of her eyelids and weariness encouraged her to rest her head against his shoulder. His arms confined her. The pad on his lap cushioned from the embarrassment of contact with his thighs. After a while, his body heat seeped through the coat’s layers of soft wool. She felt cocooned, cherished, safe.
The treasure box moved, jerking her awake. Grieves swiftly transferred the reins to one hand and ended the downward slide. He settled the box on her lap and placed his hand over it. “Go back to sleep, Evangeline. I’ll make sure it stays put.”
She heard a smile flavoring his comment. Somewhere not far away, came t
he rattle of a carriage on the post road. Too tired to worry, she sank back into comfort and drifted into a half-sleep.
The cessation of movement roused her. She blinked up at the murky outline of the moon veiled by clouds. The horse had stopped at the door of a lodge. Vines covered its stone walls. Windows, blank and black, stared at them.
Her voice sounded rusty when she said, “It looks as if there are no servants. Won’t you need a key?”
“There are other ways inside a house. Hold your satchel close. I’m going to lift you down. Have a care for your balance. You’re not accustomed to riding for long stretches.”
He slid his hands under her arms and eased her over the horse’s muscular shoulder to the ground. Not an easy feat due to the horse’s great height. Her legs felt spongy and weak. He’d been right to warn her about feeling unbalanced. She clutched a handful of coarse mane, while Grieves came out of the saddle without any sign he’d ridden for hours.
“Evangeline, can you hold this fellow while I find a way inside?”
“Certainly. He’s done a fine job of getting us here.” She gathered the reins under the horse’s chin, showing that she knew what to do.
“Good girl.” He unfolded the blanket she’d been sitting on and draped it over the horse’s back and shoulders. “Don’t be surprised when I open the door. If you don’t startle, he won’t. I don’t want him to shy and pull you off your feet.”
“We shall be perfectly fine.”
He took her arm. “Come up here on the step out of the mist. You can give the reins some slack. He doesn’t need such a firm hold.”
The door lintel provided enough shelter to block the light rain. She waited in the dark, while the horse breathed deeply. After a few minutes, he huffed out a sigh and stood relaxed. Cocking a back hoof, he lowered his head, and his eyes drooped. His contented calm made waiting alone in the dark feel not so disconcerting.
