Perhaps normalcy was the reason behind his aversion to the ton. Such a lifestyle like the one available to him as a traditional younger son was bound to be too confining for a man of his ilk, its rules too foreign to him. The choice to remain aloof from society had also forced him to stay aloof from his highly respectable family. A difficult choice, and not all that different from the choice she’d recently made.
Of course, she might be reading too much into that in her desire to see the similarities between her and Paine. Again, the niggling worry arose that she was fashioning a hero out of a man who did not wish to be cast in that light. He simply might not like his family. The choice to remain aloof might have been an easy one.
She knew very little about his family besides the few facts floating about the ton that new-come débutantes were allowed to hear and the information she had read from a dry page of Debrett’s. His brother was the Earl of Dursley, of course, and Paine was the third of three sons. On top of that, there was the scandal that seemed to follow Paine everywhere like a calling card. Julia had known precious little of the details when she’d decided to seek Paine out, only that he had been involved in a quarrel twelve years prior over the virtue of a woman. Julia did not know for sure. The quarrel had escalated into a duel and become a public spectacle. The rest was murky after that. She knew only that Paine had been exiled when the duel had been exposed to the authorities. Since then, she’d learned from Paine that the quarrel had been with Oswalt.
She wondered what it was costing him now to go home and face his family. Certainly, he’d made something of himself during his time abroad. But the past was a potent demon and it could not be easy. Yet, he’d done it without any hesitation for her sake. She had not suggested it; indeed, she hadn’t even been fully aware of the imminent danger she faced in London.
Julia gave up any pretence of resting. She sat up straight against the leather cushions. ‘Why did you do it?’ she asked.
Paine’s eyes opened quickly, alert and blue, giving every indication that she’d been right. He hadn’t been sleeping either. ‘Do what?’
‘Decide to go home.’
‘There was nowhere else to go. The decision was painfully easy,’ Paine said bluntly. ‘I could think of nowhere safer than my brother’s house.’
‘Will he be glad to see us?’ Julia queried, wanting to know what kind of reception they’d get.
Paine gave a wry smile. ‘In his own way, I expect he will be. Don’t worry, Julia. He’ll love you.’
‘What will you tell them about me?’
‘I shall tell them the truth, although I doubt my brother will be glad to hear of my latest run-in with Oswalt.’ Paine’s face was grim. ‘But he’ll help us.’
‘Oh,’ Julia said quietly. She’d thought for a moment he might tell his family the story they’d made up about love at first sight. It was surprisingly disappointing to hear the real truth spoken out loud. But she nodded as if that was the tack she’d expected all along.
Paine didn’t seem inclined to pursue the conversation, so Julia forged ahead on her own. ‘What’s your brother like?’
‘Which one? I have two you know. Peyton, the earl, and Crispin, who is also older. I imagine it’s quite possible that they’ll both be at home. Crispin despises the Season and Peyton won’t come up until the end of June. He puts it off as long as he can. At least he used to.’
Julia experienced a moment of fear. What if they’d come all this way and the earl wasn’t home? ‘Is there a chance your brother has already left for London?’
Paine shook his head. ‘No, a note I’d sent earlier to the town house was returned and my footman said the knocker wasn’t on the town-house door. I’d sent out two notes, just to be sure—one in town and one to the country.’
Her momentary fears were eased. But other concerns presented themselves. ‘So, I am going to a bachelor estate and setting up house with three brothers.’ Julia tried to make light of it. She felt ridiculous for suddenly worrying about propriety at this late date. Technically, she’d broken every rule a débutante could break. It was entirely illogical to be concerned over such a little thing now. Still, old habits died hard.
Paine laughed. ‘Peyton has convinced our Cousin Beth to take up residence. My Aunt Lily tells me that Beth runs the house these days and Peyton finds the arrangement much more amicable than finding a bride to do it.’
Julia thought of the tall, poised older woman Paine had been escorting the night she’d seen Paine from a distance at the ball. That must be Aunt Lily. She and Paine had the same raven-dark hair and had looked congenially at ease with one another. ‘Why doesn’t he marry? Cousin Beth can run the house, but she can’t provide him heirs.’ Most men she’d encountered put a supreme importance on producing a successor for the family.
But Paine dismissed the concern. ‘Perhaps Peyton hasn’t met the right woman yet. No matter, Crispin is an admirable heir in that case. The family will go on.’
Paine leaned forwards and pulled back one of the curtains, assessing the growing light. ‘We’ll be able to stop soon and refresh ourselves,’ he said, clearly changing the subject. Julia had to content herself with what she’d learned, although the answers he’d given had spawned more questions.
Other than Aunt Lily, he’d apparently not made any contact with his brothers in the months he’d been in England. She wondered why. It was obvious he held them in affection and he was interested in what his family was doing. Was this lack of contact reciprocal? Had the earl tried to contact Paine? Surely he knew Paine was back. It seemed unlikely to Julia that Aunt Lily would let such a thing go unnoticed even if the earl didn’t make a habit of coming up to town.
The sun had been up for two hours when they stopped at an inn to break their fast and change the horses. Paine reserved a private room for them so they could eat in quiet and with as little attention as possible. Julia’s gown was wrinkled, but the colour and cut would still stand out. At Paine’s suggestion, she kept her dark wig on. At least now the innkeeper and his wife could deny in all truth that a cinnamon-haired woman had passed that way with a man of Paine’s description.
Julia felt better after washing her face and hands and eating. She saw to the packing of a hamper in the kitchens while Paine dashed off another note and sent it with a rider.
‘Who’s the note to?’ she asked coming up at Paine’s side in the stable yard.
‘My brother. I thought we’d better tell him we were coming. He doesn’t like surprises.’ Paine smiled and tried to tease her, but Julia missed nothing. There were lots of reasons beyond the obvious why Paine would want his brother on the lookout. If Oswalt’s men caught up to them and they failed to arrive on time, Dursley would come looking for them. That could hardly be what Oswalt’s men preferred.
Julia hoped it wouldn’t come to that. She knew her etiquette well enough to know that Paine was a mere mister, the title of ‘Honourable’ only applying as a written heading. Tangling with him was one thing. Engaging in a violent act against the Earl of Dursley was another.
Paine handed Julia into the coach and took his place on the top of the box to give the coachman a break. They couldn’t afford the luxury of stopping for sleep and the coachman couldn’t drive for ever. A man could be pushed no more than a team of horses without risking the safety of the journey. Such action would be complete folly. It would do no good to outrun Oswalt’s minions only to be caught by the side of the road with a broken carriage wheel.
Paine clucked to the team and slapped the reins. It would be a tiring two days on the open road. Part of him longed to be inside the coach with Julia to distract him. He would have given a monkey to know what she’d been thinking about so hard this morning. Her eyes had been shut, but he could practically have seen the wheels of her fast-moving mind whirling at top speed.
While he was flattered to think those thoughts might have been about him, he hoped they were not. He was dangerous for Julia. Usually he limited his relationships to women who u
nderstood the game, women who were satisfied with the temporary pleasures he could give them, women who knew that, like all games, theirs would come to an end. Julia Prentiss was a different kettle of fish, which was the exact reason he felt so compelled to protect her, even to the point of going home to face Peyton and all the things he had to apologise for.
Whether she would admit to them or not, or was even aware of them or not, Julia had expectations. She needed a hero right now and he was more than glad to oblige for the short term. But he wasn’t capable of being her hero for longer than that. There was too much restlessness in him. Paine already knew he’d leave England again. Maybe not tomorrow, or next month, but eventually within a few years he would leave again. There was a huge world to explore and Britain was well placed to conduct those explorations. Julia had grown up in the country. She would want a husband who was stable, reliable, able to stay in one place and put down roots.
Whoa. Paine jerked on the reins, avoiding a near run-in with the ditch on the side of the road. Husband? When had he gone from short-term hero to husband? Commitments didn’t get any more long term than that. He couldn’t be anyone’s husband, especially not Julia Prentiss’s. She would give him all her trust, all her passion, all her heart and he would hurt her. She deserved more than a restless man. Before he could consider being a husband, he had to find peace for himself. Maybe that peace was in Bombay, or Burma, or in some mystical place he had yet to explore.
Maybe it’s with her. Maybe she brings you peace, a tempting voice quipped in his head. That’s why you showed her ‘splitting the bamboo’ and the ‘yawn.’ You know that position lets each lover view the other’s reactions without any obstacle. The position renders you emotionally exposed. That’s why you climax so intensely with her and her alone. Go on, slay her dragons and win the fair maid’s hand.
Paine yanked hard on the reins, pulling the coach away from a deep rut in the side of the road. Lucifer’s bells, he was going crazy! He’d nearly wrecked the coach with thoughts of playing husband to the delectable Julia. Now, his mind had wandered from eastern sexual sutras to the chivalry of England. What was he thinking?
Oh, he knew what he was thinking, and he knew what he ought to be thinking. He ought to keep his thoughts on the tasks at hand; goodness knew there were several of them more worthy of his time than impossible fantasies about peace and Julia Prentiss.
London was already seven hours behind him. Tomorrow’s sunset would see them on his brother’s doorstep. He was cognisant, too, that the game with Oswalt was irrevocably in motion now. Tomorrow would see him and Julia at Dursley, a day closer to both a reunion and a reckoning that had been twelve years in coming.
Paine drove all afternoon. The idea of a reunion with his brothers, coupled with the soft rolling green hills, proved to be too potent of a temptation to resist, making it easy to indulge the memories he loved so well.
Around him, waving fields of golden summer wheat not yet knee high spread like a haphazard quilt, so similar to the landscape near his home. In his mind’s eye, he saw three boys rollicking in the fields, trousers rolled up and fishing rods slung over their shoulders. A stranger would not see much difference in them. Not much separated them in physical appearance except for their stair-step height. All had jet-black hair and blue eyes that sparked with constant mischief.
Those had been halcyon days when they’d lived as brothers and friends under the spell of an English summer. Each year upon year, it had always been that way for as long as Paine could remember. The tutors dismissed for the warm months and the boys free to roam at will. Paine was six years younger than his oldest brother. He’d thought such summers would last for ever.
But they ended when he was eight and Peyton left for school that autumn, leaving a huge chasm behind. Peyton had been the mortar that bound all three of the boys together. Without Peyton, he and Crispin were lost. Peyton had been the one to create their fantastical adventures, to lead the way on their expeditions. He’d been the one, because of his age, to act as both brother and father in the absence of a real father who lived almost exclusively in London.
Paine recognised now that, if his father had been home more often, Peyton wouldn’t have been allowed to attain the ripe age of fourteen before going off to school. Most heirs were long gone from the family estate years before then. Still, everything had started to change the day the coach pulled out of the drive, taking Peyton away.
He didn’t want to think about those dark days today, not with the sun shining on a perfect mid-morning summer. He wanted to be a boy again, innocent and fresh-come to the world. Not too young, though—not so young he couldn’t celebrate this glorious day with a maid.
Paine laughed out loud, startling the horses. If it was his fantasy, he would do it right. He’d be sixteen and only modestly experienced in the ways of the world and flesh. Yes, he’d be sixteen and in love—a pure, unadulterated love with a girl as pure and curious as he was. She’d be a country girl, of course, so they could pack a picnic and hike through the woods to a field of wildflowers. They’d lay out their picnic of brown bread, a cheese wheel and a jug of cold ale on an old faded blanket. There’d be no need for chaperons or fancy delicacies or mating games with intricate negotiations.
Paine thought of Julia, snug in the carriage. Of all the women he’d known, she’d perhaps like such a picnic best. Certainly, she was by far the most innocent he’d ever known. It seemed something of an irony that she’d come looking for him to ruin one of the qualities he admired about her most. He knew as she did not that innocence was more than the physical manifestation of her maidenhead. He’d met virgins who weren’t innocent in the least. She’d meant for him to take her innocence and now, he’d wound up protecting it. He would fight Oswalt with every weapon at his disposal before he’d let Julia see what that man could do. He would examine the reasons for such motivations later.
Chapter Eleven
When they stopped for a short lunch in the afternoon the next day, Julia begged to ride up on top with Paine. She’d had enough of being cooped inside with a snoring coachman. The man had driven through the night for them and deserved his rest. Julia wasn’t convinced, however, that it entitled him to expose her to such a noise.
She was also convinced that they’d eluded Oswalt. There were only two hours to go until they arrived at Dursley. The fear that had formed a continual knot in her stomach since London was starting to unravel.
Julia was contemplating the pleasure of a hot bath and cooked food when the shot rang out. Julia screamed. Shards of lacquered wood grazed her cheek from the impact of a bullet piercing the side of the coach. The horses whinnied in fright, galloping recklessly down the rutted road, dragging the coach behind them. The strength of Paine’s arms were the only barriers between the horses and certain doom if the carriage veered into the ditch. At this speed, even a shallow ditch would cause the vehicle to flip, flinging its occupants to imminent injury or death.
‘Julia, how many are there?’ Paine shouted over the jangle of the coach, all his attention focused on keeping the coach on the road, on keeping them alive.
Julia clutched the seat rail and hazarded a quick backwards glance. ‘Four.’
‘Get down!’ Paine shouted as another shot rang out.
‘Julia, listen to me. We’ll have to stop the team. I can’t hold them for ever; if they keep running, it’s only a matter of time before a corner is too sharp or we hit a rut. At this speed, we die most assuredly. When I stop the coach, you get down and run for the trees. Just keep running. Stay under cover and keep your sense of direction. You’ll run into Dursley Hall.’
‘Where will you be?’
‘Here, fighting them off. Then I’ll catch up.’
‘Four men?’
‘Don’t fight with me over this, Julia. It’s you they want. The last thing I need is to have my concentration divided between you and them. I can’t fight you both. It only takes one man to swing you up on his horse and ride off while the other
three keep me busy.’
Paine sawed hard on the reins, bringing the frightened team to a stop. ‘Go, Julia!’
Julia tumbled over the side and ran for the woods, hoping Paine was right and that no one had seen her yet. With luck, Oswalt’s men would assume she was inside the carriage. The shots that had been fired hadn’t necessarily been aimed at the driver.
Julia gained the thick copse that grew near the road side, worry for Paine filling her. The shots had been aimed at Paine. Julia’s hand flew to her cheek where the wood shards had scratched it. At a distance and with the blur of motion, the men had no way of knowing Paine was the driver. They’d assume Paine was in the coach with her and, as the gentleman, he’d be riding with his back to the box, facing backwards.
Paine’s words came back to her. You’re the one they want. That had made logical sense. Oswalt wouldn’t want her dead. He needed her definitely alive. But Paine was expendable and, given their history, perhaps it was even preferable that Paine was dead.
She turned to look back. One man lay still on the ground, probably from Paine’s single pistol shot before he’d got too close. Another grappled with Paine on the narrow box seat. Paine drew back his arm and delivered a debilitating punch to the man’s jaw, sending him staggering off the edge. But two men remained and they’d had time to get into position. One of them had drawn a knife.
Julia watched in horror as they dragged Paine off the high seat, one of them swiping at Paine with the blade. The trio hit the ground, Paine rolling free of the punches they threw. He reached swiftly into his boot to withdraw his knife. He crouched, arms held wide, ready to fight, but he was already bleeding. In the close confines of the box seat, the blade had found purchase.
Julia could see a slow stain forming on his arm—the right arm that held his knife. The steel blade Paine possessed suddenly seemed inadequate to her. How could such a thin piece of steel keep those burly men at bay? How long would Paine’s wounded arm hold out? Where was the coachman? Surely he hadn’t slept through all the commotion and the bone-jarring ride? He should be out there, helping Paine.
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