by Darcy Burke
But how could he expect to go through life as he had the past two years? A self-hating, forlorn monk. Oh, he put on a good face for everyone else, but no one knew how acutely his pain cut. Not even Nick, his closest friend.
Nick. Simon meant to send a note to inform him what had transpired with Miss Kingman. Nick had been concerned for her welfare, as he should be. He’d never meant to cause her trouble or pain, and Simon wanted to put him at ease. Miss Kingman would be fine—if he had anything to do with it. And, fortunately, he did.
Tomorrow, they would be on their way to Northampton, and hopefully, things would go as smoothly as they had so far. Being recognized as Mr. Byrd was a small bump in his plan, but not a threatening one. If they could just continue on this path until he delivered her to Lancashire, all would be well.
But first he had to spend the night in her bed. Again. Only with less clothing.
Thinking it had been well more than ten minutes, he made his way back upstairs. The lantern next to the bed had been extinguished, leaving just the light from the fire to illuminate the room.
Simon looked toward the bed. Miss Kingman lay near the edge of one side—as close as she could get without falling off, he noted—her back to the center of the bed, where it looked as though she’d rolled one of the blankets and placed it between them. He hoped there were enough coverings on the bed to keep them warm. Last night, they’d worn more clothing to bed.
Hell. He wore a nightshirt to sleep in or, most often, nothing at all. Tonight, he should probably keep his smallclothes on.
Shrugging out of his jacket, he hung it on a hook in the wall. He sat down to remove his boots, working as quietly and quickly as possible. When he’d removed everything but his shirt and smallclothes, he went to his side of the bed and crawled between the icy covers. He shuddered involuntarily and felt her jerk.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Cold bed.”
“Very,” she responded, her low, feminine voice rustling over him like a fine silk.
He considered making an offer to warm them both up—body heat would be most beneficial. But that was likely a bad idea. For so many reasons.
He turned to his side, away from her, but snuggled his back against the rolled-up blanket. That would help with the cold. And the warmer he got, the more easily he would fall asleep. And the sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he could put the proximity of Miss Kingman out of his mind.
Too bad none of that happened very quickly at all.
Chapter 4
As they neared the end of day three of their journey, Diana sent up a silent prayer for a repeat of the accommodations they’d enjoyed last night in Northampton—two beds! After the prior night when they’d shared a bed in Luton and she’d awakened pressed to his side with only the meager rolled-up blanket between them, she’d been incredibly grateful for her own space. She doubted she’d be so fortunate again tonight, but she could hope.
The coach rolled into the yard of the Jolly Goat, and Diana arched her back against the squab.
“You’re an excellent traveler,” Romsey remarked. “You never complain.”
“That’s not something I was ever allowed to do.” She wanted to take the words back because they were too revealing.
“Your upbringing was rather strict.” It wasn’t a question but an observation.
He didn’t know the half of it. “Yes. You don’t complain about traveling either.”
“I travel quite a bit.”
“You said you like it,” she said, watching him stretch his legs and arms. “Where have you been?”
He relaxed his limbs as the coach came to a stop. “All over England, Wales, and Scotland. I’m planning to spend the summer in Ireland.”
“I’ve never been there. Maybe that’s where I should go and disappear.”
He arched a brow at her in the gray afternoon light spilling in through the window just before Tinley opened the door. “Is that what you’ve decided to do?”
She shook her head as she pulled the wool blanket off her legs. “No. I’m still mulling.”
“And you still have time,” he said pleasantly before turning and stepping down from the coach.
He reached up and offered her his hand. She slipped her gloved fingers into his and tried not to think of how much time they were spending together or what would happen if anyone knew of their scandalous journey.
By now, her father would be well on his way to King’s Grange. Once he learned she wasn’t there, what would he do? More importantly, what was Diana going to do?
She’d meant what she’d told Romsey—she was still mulling. For now, she had to admit she was enjoying this reprieve. Never had she been able to go about her day without asking for permission for everything or having her every choice and movement thoroughly scrutinized. And often criticized. It was, in a word, heaven. She wasn’t sure she could go back to her life, not after this. Yet the idea of leaving it—and everyone she’d ever known—behind forever was rather daunting.
As she stepped onto the hard earth, Romsey frowned. But he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking at the inn and the other vehicles in the yard. “It looks crowded.”
“Should we go somewhere else?” she asked.
The duke looked at his coachman, who shook his head. “I didn’t see anything else for the last mile, and it’s getting dark quickly. I think this is our best bet.”
“I agree,” Romsey said. He cast Diana a hopeful look. “We’ll be fine. Let’s get inside.” As if to hurry them along, a brisk wind blew against them, icing Diana’s spine.
He clasped her elbow and guided her quickly into the inn, where they were summarily greeted by a rather grouchy innkeeper.
“We’re full,” he said, clearly harassed. His dark, bushy brows nearly met across his forehead. He barely spared them a glance but said, “I’ve a larger room you can share with another couple, provided they don’t mind. I’ll go and speak to them.”
While he lumbered his rather large frame across the common room, Diana turned to Romsey. “Share a room?”
“It’s not uncommon. I’ve done it,” he said with a shrug.
She pursed her lips. “Well, I haven’t.” Then again, she hadn’t done anything.
“Let’s just wait and see what happens. There’s no sense getting upset until we know what we’re dealing with.”
The innkeeper caught their eye and waved for them to come over to the table where he stood. The occupants of said table were a young couple—an apple-cheeked blonde beauty and her dark-haired, blue-eyed husband who wore a wide grin. Or maybe it wasn’t her husband. Maybe they were on a scandalous journey like Diana and the duke.
Diana and the duke. That sounded like the name of a horrid novel. And perhaps one Diana would like to read. If she were allowed to read them.
The innkeeper nodded at Diana and Romsey. “These are them.” He turned his attention to the duke. “Mr. and Mrs. Ogden said you can have the pallet in front of the fire and pay a third of the fee.”
A third! For a pallet while they had the bed? What would they offer if they knew Romsey was a duke? Of course, she couldn’t tell them.
“That would be excellent,” Romsey said. He inclined his head toward the Ogdens. “Thank you kindly.”
“They’ve already paid,” the innkeeper continued. “So go ahead and pay them, plus I’ll need an extra charge for having additional people.”
“Of course.” Romsey didn’t bat an eye as he paid what the innkeeper demanded and then paid the Ogdens.
“Dinner’s in about an hour,” the innkeeper said gruffly before bustling off.
“Charming fellow,” Diana muttered.
“What’s that?” Mr. Ogden asked, leaning forward.
Diana smiled. “Nothing at all. Thank you for sharing your room with us.”
Mrs. Ogden nodded toward the empty chairs at their table. “Please sit.”
Romsey held a chair for Diana. “I’m Byrd, and this is my wife.”
Ogden offered his
hand to the duke. “Pleased to meet you.”
Diana didn’t really care to sit again so soon, but she was too eager to be near the fire to quibble. She turned her body toward the flames and briefly closed her eyes in ecstasy.
“It’s so cold today,” Mrs. Ogden said. “Much colder than yesterday.”
“Where are you headed?” Ogden asked Romsey.
“North. How about you?”
Ogden took a sip of ale—there were tankards in front of him and his wife. “Birmingham. We came from a visit to Mrs. Ogden’s family. Her sister just had a babe.” He smiled at his wife. “We’re hoping that will be us someday soon.”
She beamed back at him, and the love between them was palpable. At least Diana thought it was love. How would she even recognize that emotion? She swallowed and looked at the fire.
Romsey, who’d sat down beside Diana, put his arm around her. “Us too.”
What was he doing?
Playing a part.
Her pulse picked up speed at his touch and familiarity, but she didn’t say anything. She gave him a half smile, confident her eyes were probably communicating her alarm. Alarm? Was this alarming? No, it was just…different.
He patted her shoulder, then withdrew his arm. She was surprised to find that she was disappointed.
“Have you been upstairs?” Romsey asked. “Is this room truly large enough for all four of us, or will we be cramped?”
“It’s plenty big,” Ogden said. “Hope you don’t mind the pallet—you will be closer to the fire, so there’s that.”
“We don’t mind at all. We’re just glad to have a place to rest our weary selves.”
“There’s a screen too,” Mrs. Ogden put in. “So we can all have some privacy.” She tossed her husband a rather suggestive look and giggled softly.
Diana didn’t know whether to feel relieved or anxious. She could only imagine what the Ogdens might do with their privacy.
The conversation turned briefly to the weather, and then Mrs. Ogden told them all about her sister’s delivery and her new baby. It was far more information than Diana might have wanted. Childbirth seemed a frightening prospect, but also distant—as in very, very far in the future. Though she’d planned to marry the Duke of Kilve, they’d agreed there would be no children for a while. She was sure most men would not have consented to such a thing. And suddenly, she was annoyed all over again at her predicament. Why did it seem as if nothing was in her control?
Because it wasn’t.
Until this trip. For the first time in her life, she was making her own choices. Yes, she ought to focus on that. She took a deep breath.
“You need some ale or maybe a whiskey,” Ogden said, turning his head to look for the innkeeper.
Instead, a serving girl came toward them. When she was near the table, Ogden gestured to Romsey. “Bring the man a drink. Do you have whiskey?”
Before she could answer, Romsey gave her a charming smile. “I’d actually like tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“For me as well,” Diana said, prompting the duke to slide an inquisitive look her way.
When the girl had gone, Ogden blinked at Romsey. “You don’t drink spirits?”
Diana put her hand on Romsey’s arm. “I prefer tea, and he joins me. Isn’t that lovely?”
Romsey gave her a look that was nothing short of incredulous, but he masked it quickly. “Quite lovely,” he murmured.
“Well, if you change your mind, the ale is delicious,” Mrs. Ogden said.
A few minutes later, the serving girl brought tea and said their dinner would be out shortly. Then Tinley came over to tell them their things had been delivered to their room and that he’d see them in the morning.
Over dinner, Mr. Ogden asked Romsey about his occupation. Diana realized they’d come this far without discussing that. She was quite curious to hear what he’d say.
“I’m fortunate to have inherited a small estate,” Romsey said easily. “Nothing terribly fancy.”
“I wondered,” Mrs. Ogden said, her gaze narrowing on Diana’s traveling costume. “In fact, I wondered if you might be peerage, judging from your clothing.” She exhaled, smiling. “I’m glad you’re not. I’ve never met a peer, and I’m not sure what I’d say!”
Diana stifled a smile. If Mrs. Ogden only knew…
“Still, they’re gentry, my dear,” Mr. Ogden said, flicking a glance toward the duke that indicated he was perhaps not quite as comfortable as he’d been a few minutes before.
“Barely, really,” Romsey assured him.
“Perhaps you should have the bed,” Mrs. Ogden offered.
Her husband shot her a wide-eyed glance, and she blushed slightly.
Romsey was quick to say, “Heavens, no. We insist you take the bed—you were here first. The pallet will suit us just fine.”
Mr. Ogden looked relieved. “You are very kind.”
“We already established that you are the kind ones—offering up your extra space.”
A yawn suddenly escaped Diana’s mouth. She brought her hand up and tried to hide it, but everyone at the table noticed. She knew this because now they were all doing it.
Mrs. Ogden laughed. “I guess we should think about turning in!” She exchanged a warm look with her husband, and he leaned over and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“Pardon us,” he murmured.
Diana averted her gaze to her unfinished dessert—a wonderful bread and butter pudding with succulent currants. It was, she reflected, her favorite part of the meal. But perhaps that was because she wasn’t often allowed sweets.
Romsey helped her up from the table as Mr. Ogden performed the same service for his wife. They went toward the stairs, and Romsey gestured for the other couple to precede them. “You first since we’ve no idea where we’re going.”
Ogden nodded. “Right.” He guided his wife up and around the sharp corner to a large landing before leading them to the left to a room at the end of the corridor. “This is it.” He opened the door and moved inside, quickly stepping aside to allow Romsey and Diana to come in.
It was the largest room they’d stayed in thus far, with a bed against the left side, a fireplace opposite the door, and a table and chairs in front of a window on the right side. The pallet looked like a nest of blankets situated on the floor in front of the right side of the hearth. There was also, as Mrs. Ogden had stated, a screen standing in the corner near the table.
“We’ll just move this,” Ogden said, going to the screen.
Romsey rushed to help him, and each man picked up one side before carrying it to the other side of the fireplace, where they placed it near the hearth on the left side between the pallet and the bed. This allowed privacy but didn’t completely cut the Ogdens off from the heat source.
Mrs. Ogden stood near the center of the room and surveyed the placement of the screen. “Perhaps Mrs. Byrd and I can prepare for bed, while you two excuse yourselves.”
While Diana wasn’t terribly enthused about undressing with a stranger, it was perhaps better than being undressed by Romsey. Except, truth be told, she didn’t mind being undressed by him. He was gentle, careful, and surprisingly adept.
“An excellent notion,” Ogden said, turning toward the door. “Come, Byrd, let us have a nightcap.” He glanced over at Romsey, his brow furrowing. “Or something.”
When they were gone, Mrs. Ogden came bustling over. “Now we can gossip about them!”
Diana fought to keep from showing her distaste. She didn’t like to gossip, but it was hard to avoid in London’s social whirl. She could tell Mrs. Ogden things that would likely make her eyes the size of the ocean. “I’m sure I have nothing of interest to say about Mr. Byrd.” But about the Duke of Ruin? She quickly put that from her mind.
“I doubt that.” Mrs. Ogden’s eyes twinkled as she walked to a narrow bench at the end of the bed and sat down to remove her shoes. “Mr. Ogden and I have been married eight months. In truth, I suspect I may be carrying a babe, but I h
aven’t told him yet. What about you?”
Self-conscious but not knowing what else to do, Diana sat in one of the chairs at the table and took off her half boots. “We were married just last week. I am not carrying a child.”
“Yet,” Mrs. Ogden said with a wink. “That Mr. Byrd is as handsome as they come. Why, if Peter looked like that, I’d never let him out of bed!” She laughed as she stood and unbuttoned the drop front of her gown.
Diana averted her eyes and pulled the pins from her hair, setting them in a neat little pile on the table.
“Did I embarrass you?” Mrs. Ogden asked. “I’m terribly sorry. Sometimes I’m too plainspoken. Or so my mother says.”
Diana lifted her eyes and saw that the other woman was removing her petticoat, which she draped over the end of the bed along with her dress.
Mrs. Ogden came toward Diana, her deep brown eyes tinged with concern. “Perhaps you don’t think he’s attractive? Were you…forced to marry him? I heard that happens sometimes with the gentry.” She nodded knowingly. “It happens sometimes in my station too.”
“No, I wasn’t forced. As you said, he’s quite attractive.” Diana couldn’t dispute that. While she hadn’t seen him undressed—he was always careful to disrobe in the dark and was up and dressed before she even awoke—she’d become well acquainted with the feel of his thigh pressed along hers in the coach, the touch of his hand against her, the feel of his lips moving over hers. Perhaps not well acquainted with his lips since they’d only kissed that one time during that silly game at the house party of course. However, the more time she spent with him, the more she wondered what it might be like to kiss him again. And for longer.
Needing a distraction, she began to braid her hair.
“So you married for love, then.” Mrs. Ogden smiled softly. “It wasn’t precisely love with me and Peter. More like lust.” She laughed again. “And when my mother caught us in the stable, well, we had to get married. It’s all worked out, though. I do love him, and he loves me.”
