Madcap Miss

by Claudy Conn

  He thanked her, and off she went.

  “Felicia?” her savior asked, and she saw curiosity in his eyes as she took a roll, dipped it in the soft butter, and stuffed her mouth with a groan.

  She nodded.

  He said, “I fancy I heard Scott call you something else?”

  She smiled. “Yes, he has always called me Flip, ever since we first … ah, since we were very little.”

  “And do you prefer that to Felicia?”

  “Scott is the only one who has ever called me that, but I like my name,” she answered. Then she tore off another piece of the roll, dipped it in the butter, and moaned once more as she chewed.

  “Right then, after you swallow, I think you might want to tell me what sent you and Scott off into the night without so much as one portmanteau between you? Are you two in some kind of trouble?”

  She was stunned. She knew he knew that things weren’t what they seemed. He was a ‘knowing one’ Scott would say. He had an air of sophistication and experience about him, but she had not expected him to ask so soon and so openly.

  She nearly choked and did, in fact, cough. She settled herself, and as she felt the heat rise to her entire face she tried on an answer. “We were on our way to London … to Sc—our aunt’s place.” She eyed him and tried to change the subject. “These are delicious. Do have one.”

  He ignored this and apparently was going to go for the throat, because he eyed her doubtfully and asked, “On your way to London? In the dead of night? Why?”

  She sighed and answered honestly, because she could not think of anything else, “We had no choice.” She just couldn’t snub him by not answering. He had stopped and helped her with Scott. Without his help, she didn’t know what she would have done.

  Besides that, there was something about him that drew on her and not beat, but gently stroked, her natural independence into sweet submission. Ludicrous that such a notion should pop into her head, but it had.

  He said, “No choice? But, my dear, why is that?”

  She dimpled at him and went kitten-like into her large, comfortably upholstered chair, tucking her legs beneath her. “Shall I trust you, sir?”

  His gaze almost made her swoon. She felt safe and coddled with the look he gave her. It was a glance that said she could trust him with her life. But he was a stranger. She should be careful.

  He said, “You don’t wish to be thought of as a child, yet here you are, an enchanting ragamuffin, asking a total stranger if you should trust him. In my case, yes, so I hope you have an instinct for such things.”

  She laughed. “Well, I have never been lectured for wanting to be honest before.” Were her instincts on the mark? Could she trust him?

  She shouldn’t. He was a stranger—and quite devilishly attractive.

  * * *

  Imperceptibly he looked her over, and noted that her long black hair framed a face that was exquisite. Her eyes, lush in their color green, were full with innocence.

  He tried not to stare, but when she removed her soiled riding jacket, he could see her full breasts pushing out at her tightly fitted lace blouse, and his manhood came to attention.

  She seemed to trust him. Should she? He wasn’t sure he could trust himself.

  He said, “Well then, you want to know if you should trust me? A question that draws a many-faceted answer. You are an imp, a beautiful one, but an imp, and you may trust me for the time being to look out for you … but I shan’t use your judgment but my own to do so.”

  “Fair enough, but when you know the whole, you may be so shocked you will only want to wash your hands of us and be off,” she said on a whisper.

  “You do not know me, and I do not shock easily,” he answered ruefully.

  “Very well, I must tell you, then, that Scott and I … well, we are running away,” she told him conspiratorially.

  “That much I surmised,” he answered, as it was precisely what he suspected. “From whom? Your parents?”

  She blushed again, and he narrowed his gaze. Ah, she did not wish to give details. Why was that? What more could there be?

  She offered, “I … lost both my parents in the last two years … only a bit apart from one another.” She looked down at her clasped hands and then took in air to add, “The guardian their joint will installed to look out for me was unconcerned with me. Well, at least he has been unconcerned with me until recently. I simply thought he was sickly, and since I was happy going on as I was …” She hesitated.

  Was she afraid of telling him too much? “What has changed to make you take this drastic step?”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “Well … he has decided to scurry me off to an outlandishly terrible place.”

  “Why would he do that suddenly?”

  “Well … we suspect he wants to marry me to one of his relatives before I come of age.”

  He watched her and believed some of what he heard was truth. He rather thought he could see her busy mind at work, perhaps ready to fabricate a tale from some truth. He wasn’t yet sure just what was truth and what wasn’t. He said, “Why would he want to do that all of a sudden?”

  “That is the thing. I don’t know,” she said and frowned.

  That, he decided was a truth, at least in her eyes. “It seems odd that he should suddenly, just before you reach your majority, decide to force you into marriage.”

  “It does, and yet that was what his recent letter advised me … in so many words. He wrote that he would soon arrive to collect me and take me off and settle me securely. That says it all, doesn’t it? He wants to marry me off to some horrible person—a total stranger, in fact.”

  Ah, another truth. Perhaps her guardian was in need of funds suddenly and saw this as a way to it. Blackguard. Well, he was not about to allow such a thing from occurring on his watch.

  Would she, he wondered, trust him with her true identity? He didn’t think so. He leaned towards her and asked, “Just who are you, Felicia? Who are your people? Tell me, and let me help you.”

  “I can’t. You are too good, and I don’t wish to drag you into this. Scott will see to me as soon as he recovers, and we shall manage,” she said, her chin up proudly.

  She was a brave little thing, and everything about her was so very intriguing.

  “What has me baffled is the suddenness of it all,” Ashton said, pulling at his bottom lip.

  Felicia said, “I think it is, in part, my fault. I am not biddable, you see, and when he first wrote to me … after … well, I was grieving and wished only to be left to my own devices. He said he would come for me. I told him that under no circumstances would I leave my home. We went back ’n’forth, you see, on this point, and when I did not hear form him for a time I happily thought it was a concluded issue.”

  “And now he wrote that he was coming for you and to settle your affairs?” Again Ashton frowned over the problem. “Why now?”

  “Scott and I believe that he must have an errant son … who has incurred insurmountable debts, and he decided he would secure him by marrying me off to him. I am not quite an heiress, but I do have a very nice income that my parents have left for me to manage when I turn one and twenty. No doubt the law would allow a husband to take charge of that.” She made a derisive sound. “As though I would marry anyone like that.”

  There was a lie somewhere in her story, but he was hearing more truth than prevarication. He could not help but believe this part of her story. She was probably correct in her belief that her guardian was after her fortune for a son … or a nephew. At any rate, she believed it to be true; that was a certainty.

  “Felicia, he cannot force you to the altar,” he offered her.

  “Oh, but, Mr. Ashton, he could do so. I am not being melodramatic when I say that a woman’s lot is … at times, most unenviable. Once he got hold of me, he could … hire a despicable person to marry me to his awful son, couldn’t he? He wrote that he means to take me to … well, Scott says it is a heathenish place, and I would have no one the
re to aid my plight.”

  Ashton was puzzled. She seemed to be genuinely distressed, and yet, why would her parents have appointed such a man as her guardian?

  “Felicia, what you are suggesting is infamous. It would take a certain kind of man to plan and execute such a dastardly deed. Why, then, would either of your parents appoint such a man to look after your funds and estate and you?”

  “I have given this a great deal of thought, and this is what I think,” she answered immediately, which suggested once again to him that she was telling the truth. “They knew him years and years ago. He went to school with my father, you see, and my mama was impressed with him, but they lost touch. They probably wrote the will when they were younger and forgot … and he changed over the years. That is what I think.”

  This made some sense. It was a possibility. People’s fortunes changed. Life did have a habit of intruding and making changes in a person’s ways. Well, one last question. “Who is this guardian of yours?”

  “Ah, ah … I don’t know if I should say,” she answered, and this time she would not meet his gaze.

  He said encouragingly, gently, “Tell me, Felicia, so that I may help you in this matter.”

  “The Earl of Storewell,” she answered and bit her bottom lip.

  This was an out and out lie. Blatant. He saw it all over her face. She was a very poor liar.

  A barrel decorated with a vase of wildflowers stood in a corner of their parlor, right in their sights, and the name imprinted on the barrel was Storewell. Too much of a coincidence to be one, he decided, and felt a tickle of amusement.

  “Storewell, eh?” he said to goad her on.

  He had noticed that she had a habit of biting her lip when she fibbed. She did that and looked away. He leaned in towards her again and said, “Hmm, as it happens, I may know him.” There, then, let her think about that.

  Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes opened wide. “Oh no, I am sure you do not.”

  “Why would I not?”

  “Well, he is old and keeps to himself. A recluse,” she answered.

  He almost laughed but managed to maintain a grave face. “So then, he is a recluse, a scoundrel of a guardian, and wishes to marry you to his equally scandalous son. Have I that right?”

  She smiled, apparently pleased with his ready understanding. “Yes.” However, even as their eyes met she hurriedly studied something of great interest across the room.

  He reached over, took her chin, and made her look at him. “It is often done, my dear, marriages of convenience. It is amongst our kind, a way of life, you know. He may not think he is doing anything wrong.” He regretted the words as soon as they were out.

  “You say that because you are a man. You don’t have to be forced into anything. Your fortune will stay in your hands after you marry—you can come and go as you please without all the world calling you a hoyden. Women do not have that luxury, but I intend to stay as free as I may … at least, until I fall in love.”

  He was astonished both at her vehemence and the thoughts behind her words. He smiled indulgently. When he had been her age, he had been idealistic. He too had thought that ‘love’ was the all-important ingredient to any successful union. She was an innocent in a woman’s body. A lethal combination, and he had better keep his distance.

  Love? There had been a time when he believed he would never marry for anything but love. That particular dream had turned into a nightmare when he had fancied himself in love. He had been only a year older than Felicia was now. The girl of his heart had told him she loved him, but in the end she had other plans for her future. He had only been a baron then with a modest fortune and, with two cousins before him at the time, no hope of ever being the Duke of Somerset as he was now.

  He knew better now. Love was just a word, easily discarded for more tangible things, and love didn’t always last.

  “Ah,” he said, inclining his head. “Love … for you and young Scott, then, eh?” He was baiting her. He would get at the truth about the two of them, perhaps through the back door. Something had preceded her intense need to run. That was the question uppermost in his mind. Why had she suddenly decided to run?

  She made a face at him, and that surprised him as she wagged a finger and vehemently declared, “That is a very silly notion. I would have expected it from another, but not from you. Anyone should be able to see that I adore Scott but only as a sister adores a brother. We have been brought up in one another’s way, you see, and it was only natural that Scott should want to rescue me before my guardian arrived to take me off.”

  He was intrigued in spite of the nagging and cautious man in his head telling him not to get involved. Right then, that part of this very odd tale rang true. Right, so her very real guardian had for some unknown reason decided to descend upon her. Now he needed to know why she felt it necessary to run.

  He asked, “Ah, so this night … Scott was saving you? How exactly was he going to do that? By running off without even a change of clothing?”

  She shuffled in place and uncurled her legs from under her before sitting forward. “We had word that my guardian was spending the night at a nearby inn and would arrive to take me off in the morning. I have friends in town, and my staff … well they are more family than servants.” She sighed sadly. “We had a plan, Scott and I, but it all went wrong, you see. We suddenly had no time, and then I was late getting out of the house … and then the blasted highwaymen, and what must Scott do but go running off to rescue whoever … and get himself shot!”

  Ashton swallowed his laugh and attempted to look serious. “Indeed, but what was this plan that went awry?”

  “We thought to make the trip to London. We were supposed to get off early enough that only the last hour or so would be in darkness.” She stopped, appeared to think this over, and looked doubtful as she sighed and added, “I suppose that was our first mistake. The other was not anticipating that there might be highwaymen running amok on the king’s roads.” She shook her head. “I should have brought my gun and hurried after Scott … perhaps I could have shot one of them dead.”

  “Er … or gotten shot yourself. Seems to me your guardian might have had a good notion to bring you under his eye.” At this point he could not help the chuckle that escaped him, for she gave him a darkling look. He waved this last off and said, “Sorry … but tell me, do you own a gun?”

  “Well, of course I own a gun, and I know how to use it, but one cannot predict everything, can one?”

  “No, that is the trouble even with plans that have been thought out well in advance and examined. Apparently, yours was thrown together at the last minute.”

  She eyed him gratefully. “Yes, thank you, you do understand.”

  He repressed his amusement, for she looked so damned serious, and said, “Well, as to that, I may, but I do feel that some more thought should now be put into the matter. Don’t you agree?”

  “Oh, yes, but we are in a bit of a muddle, and I am not sure just what is to be done,” she answered, looking as though she might cry.

  He reached over and touched her fingers. “There, there. You aren’t alone, you and your young gallant. We shall come about.”

  “How?” she almost wailed.

  “Scott shall recover from his wound, and by then we shall have it all managed right and tight,” he answered, attempting to bolster her spirits.

  “Yes,” she said, brightening at once. “You are too kind, but, yes, Scott will recover, and we will push on, but still … we have a few obstacles.” She chewed her lip as she obviously tried to think this out.

  “So the two of you decided to head for London. What exactly did you have in mind?”

  “Scott has an aunt. She is not always disagreeable and might in fact, Scott says, take to the notion of showing us about town and perhaps even presenting me. Scott was sure she would fund the project and I could pay her back when I get control of my trust fund. It isn’t so far off that I will come of age and be in charge of my inhe
ritance, you see, and my guardian will not be able to tell me what I can or cannot do.”

  She spoke with such vehemence combined with yearning that he did not have the heart to point out all the problems she and Scott might yet have to face. Instead, he chuckled, leaned forward once again, and tweaked her chin.

  “Well, for now, my lovely, let us attend to our dinner,” he said, wanting her not to think about the matter. She needed time to recover from the night’s events. He looked towards the serving girl who had just appeared in the doorway laden with a tray of food and smiled to add, “It smells delicious, does it not?”

  “Oh, yes,” Felicia agreed, popping yet another piece of her roll into her mouth.

  ~ Seven ~

  FELICIA PUSHED AWAY her dish of apple pie and groaned. “I can’t eat another bite.” She eyed Ashton comically and added, “Even though I want to. Because it ’tis absolutely delicious.” She got up and walked towards the wide window.

  Ashton chuckled and asked, “What are you doing now?”

  She looked over her shoulder and told him, “I was just thinking, I should take a stroll outdoors.”

  “At this hour? No, no you should not,” he said. He was in a quandary as to what he should do to manage his own affairs while attending to this sprite of a woman in breeches. Obviously his plans to attend his sister at Easton had been shot to smithereens. Now here he was with the most enticing chit, who captivated him with her bewitching smile and her saucy manners. But it was more than that. He couldn’t leave the two, Scott and Felicia, to fend for themselves. It was unthinkable. Daffy would do just fine until he could manage to attend her. He was sure his sister would not easily forgive him for this, his latest what she was sure to call ‘wickedness’ in leaving her to take care of his ward. He did know her, though, and once she heard about the plight of the young man abovestairs and this wayward young woman, she was sure to relent. What else could he do? He simply had to help them.