She saw the spark of recognition in Ben’s eyes and her heart leapt—with fear or desire she could not be sure—but the next moment she was on the ground and he was turning away. Disappointment shook her to the core. She wanted to reach out for him, but what good would that do? It could only result in another rejection. Besides, they must part at some time. The longer they were together the harder that would be.
Ben cleared his throat. ‘Would you like me to wait...’
‘No, thank you. You have done enough for me already.’ She summoned a bright smile. ‘You have an appointment, I believe. I must detain you no longer, but perhaps...’ The temptation for one last touch was irresistible. ‘Perhaps we might shake hands before you go?’
He gazed for a long time at her outstretched hand.
‘That is a gesture between friends,’ he said at last. ‘And we could never be that.’
Her smile froze and her heart splintered at his cold words, but she was a viscount’s daughter, she had been bred to withstand such knocks. Summoning every ounce of resolve she could muster she said coolly, ‘Of course. How foolish of me.’
She walked to the booking office, her head held high, even though she had to blink rapidly to see her way. Dealing with the clerk, who was singularly uninterested, helped her to regain some of her composure. There was a wait of several hours, which was disappointing. The clerk roused himself sufficiently to point out that there was a coffee room close by, but she decided against it and sat down on a bench in the booking office to wait for the Murton stage.
* * *
Ben rode off down the busy street, leading the hired mare behind him. After the way she had treated him he should not care what happened to Serena Coale, but he did. He had not dared to take her hand, fearing if he did so he would not be able to let her go. He had seen the forlorn look in her eyes as they parted, despite the brave smile. Or was it all an act, to make him think better of her?
For the past eighteen months he had worked undercover as an intelligence officer, risking his life, facing death with a devil-may-care defiance, all because of this woman, who had dismissed him as a nonentity. Any number of villains had tried and failed to get the better of him. He had hoped the constant danger and excitement of his occupation would cool his blood, but as soon as he had seen the Honourable Serena Coale with her ink-dark eyes and thick, lustrous hair he had fallen once more under her spell. Two years ago she had scorned his love and done her utmost to make him hate her, but in the orchard last night he had realised how much he still wanted her. Madness. Ben shook his head, trying to dispel the memories. The sooner he concluded his business here and moved on the better.
His contact in York was a government official, painstakingly slow and very thorough. Ben made his report and answered all his questions, but never before had he chafed so much at the fellow’s unhurried manner of proceeding. At last matters were concluded. Ben refused an invitation to stay and dine. He looked at his watch. It was not yet five o’clock. There were a few hours of daylight left; he could make good progress south if he went on now and possibly save himself another day on the road. But as he strode through the narrow, crowded thoroughfares he thought of Sally. Perhaps she was on her way to Murton even now. Or was she still waiting for the stage to set off? Spirited as she was, he did not like the idea of her travelling unescorted. And if these friends of hers were not at home? Sal would be alone in a village where she knew no one. And she had no baggage with her save her reticule—what would a respectable landlord make of that?
‘Hell and damnation!’ Ben stopped abruptly, causing a gentleman following to cannon into him and he was obliged to apologise before he could move on, this time toward the booking office. He would merely ascertain whether or not the stage had left. He told himself he was worrying unnecessarily, but as he turned the corner he stopped and quickly drew back into a doorway. Sally was walking away from the booking office on the arm of Sir Henry Nettleton.
* * *
Sally pulled her hand free, saying in a furious undertone, ‘Let me go. You may force me to accompany you, but I will not hold your arm.’
‘Very well, but do not think of running off, my dear,’ Henry patted his pocket. ‘With the information I have here, you can expect no help from any honest citizens you meet. Your actions would only serve to confirm your, ah, condition.’
‘I have changed my mind. I no longer want to marry you.’
‘Your wishes are of no importance. Your father is not one to be complaisant if his plans are thwarted, so for your sake and mine we must be married before we return to Markham. But to prevent your running off again, I mean to make sure of you tonight. My coachman tells me there is a fine inn at Shipham, just six miles from here and I have sent a rider on ahead to book our room there. Note I say room, my dear. By the morning you will no longer be a maid.’
A cold chill ran through Sally. Marrying a bumbling well-meaning Henry had been something she was prepared to endure, rather than face the alternative, but learning that he had planned all this with her father made the thought of marriage to him unbearable.
He hustled her into the waiting carriage and they set off through the narrow, crowded streets of the city. Sir Henry, pleased with his success, was inclined to be talkative.
‘I had a notion there was something wrong this morning,’ he told her, settling himself back in one corner. ‘You were so restless. Different, somehow—you see what an attentive husband I shall be?’ He laughed when she hunched her shoulder and turned away to look out of the window. ‘I noticed your absence as soon as I returned from my walk.’
‘That does not explain how you found me.’
‘I made enquiries at the stables. They told me only one man had left that morning, a traveller bound for York. I have known you so long I was sure you would have no compunction in persuading a perfect stranger to take you with him.’
She kept silent, determined not to tell him that Ben Hensley was anything but a stranger.
‘No,’ Henry continued in a smug tone that made her grit her teeth. ‘Once here, it was merely a question of finding out if you had booked a place on the mail or the stage.’
The carriage rattled on. Henry dozed in one corner but Sally stared out at the passing landscape. Perhaps she might be able to get away when they stopped. She wondered where Ben was now, if he was thinking of her. Probably not. She blinked. As he had said, she had made her bed and it seemed increasingly likely that she would have to lie in it.
At that moment there were shouts from outside and the carriage stopped. Yawning, Henry let down the window and put out his head.
‘What the devil!’
‘Devil indeed, ‘ called a familiar voice that set Sally’s heart racing. ‘Perhaps you and your companion would be good enough to step out.’
Ben was at the side of the road, Morgan standing patiently while his master levelled a horse pistol at the carriage.
‘I’ll be damned if I will!’
‘You will certainly be damned if you don’t,’ retorted Ben cheerfully. ‘I have more than one pistol, my friend, so it would be no bother for me to put one bullet into your coachman and another into you.’
‘This is what comes of travelling without servants,’ Henry grumbled as he helped Sally out of the coach. ‘I should never have listened to you.’ He raised his voice and addressed Ben.
‘So what do you want? My purse, my watch? Damned scoundrel, I’ll have you hunted down for this.’
‘No
, no you may keep your goods, sir. I have come to relieve you of your pretty companion.’
‘What? You would abduct her? You, you...’
‘It’s not abduction if the lady is willing,’ Ben interrupted him. ‘Well, madam?’
Sally started forward, then stopped.
‘There is a letter, in his pocket. I need to have it.’
‘Then take it, ma’am, but pray be careful, do not stand between us. If the gentleman objects, I may need to put a bullet in him.’
Quickly she found the letter and stuffed it into her reticule. She ran across to join Ben who was gazing at Henry, a heavy frown creasing his brow.
‘D’you know, madam, I think stealing you away is too light a punishment for this scoundrel.’
Henry snorted. ‘If you were a gentleman, sirrah, I would say name your weapon!’
Ben’s eyes narrowed. ‘Fists, I think...’
‘No!’ She ran forward as he made to dismount. ‘Do not fight him,’ she begged. ‘Just take me away from here.’ She put her hand on his thigh. ‘Please, Ben.’
The quiet desperation in her voice touched him. He had learned over the years not to jeopardise a mission for the sake of personal gratification. Rescuing Sally was his goal, but he had not been prepared for his sudden anger when he saw Nettleton. The thought of the villain forcing himself upon Sally filled him with rage.
But it would not do, he was not related to Sal, and he had no right to seek satisfaction on her behalf. He would see her safely to her friends and then he would leave her and get on with his own life.
He reached down and pulled her up before him. When she was in his arms he lifted the pistol and fired into the air. Morgan pricked his ears and snorted nervously, but the carriage horses shied wildly and set off along the road while the coachman scrabbled to collect up the reins. Sir Henry ran after them, shouting angrily.
Ben gave a grunt of satisfaction.
‘I saw that fool coachman had dropped the ribbons.’ He looked down. ‘Are you all right, Sal?’
‘I think so,’ she clung on to him, dazed by this turn of events. ‘How did you know...?’
‘I saw Nettleton taking you away and guessed you had not gone willingly.’
‘You came back for me?’
Those dark eyes gazing up at him were almost his undoing. He looked away, saying curtly, ‘Hush now, we must make haste away from here.’
The horse settled into a long, easy stride and Ben tried not to think about the dainty figure sitting before him with her arms wrapped around his body. A stray curl had escaped from beneath the frivolous little hat she had pinned over her hair and it tickled his cheek, carrying with it her elusive perfume. He fought down the urge to bend his head closer and breathe in the sweet scent of her. Better to remember she was a dangerous distraction. Hell’s teeth he should have been well on his way home by now, to the comfortable villa he had built for himself in Derbyshire. He should be thankful to Sally Coale. By rejecting him, she had freed him to pursue a dangerous and lucrative career. The modest fortune he had inherited was now considerably enlarged. He could afford to take a wife and keep her in luxury, if he so wished. Only the woman in his arms had destroyed all such dreams two years ago.
‘I have just remembered one of your early visits to Markham.’ She looked up at him, a lilting smile on her lips. ‘My horse went lame and you had to carry me thus. You are always rescuing me.’
He fought against responding to that smile.
‘I am not doing this for you. I merely saw a way to thwart your father.’
She quickly looked away, but not before he saw the droop of her mouth and read the disappointment in her face. He hardened his heart against an apology. He was no longer a boy to be caught by her woman’s tricks.
Chastened, Sally remained silent. She had been foolish to mention their happy times together. One could not bring back the past. They had both changed. Ben had grown harder. He was no chivalrous knight coming to her rescue, more a devil bent upon revenge. Disappointment was bitter on her tongue but she swallowed it. What did it matter why he was doing this, as long as he helped her escape.
She had no idea of their direction but leaned close to Ben as their route took them through woodland and across open fields. She did not really care where they went. She found herself wishing they could ride on like this forever. Comfortably ensconced in his arms, she could pretend he still cared for her. How long he would be with her she had no idea, she did not want to think of that, only that he was with her here, now.
It was growing dark by the time they turned down a narrow, little-used lane and in the dying light she could just make out a low building with a steeply pitched roof.
‘This lodge belongs to an elderly relative of mine,’ he said. ‘A widow who owns the large estate that we are now crossing. She leaves it vacant in case I have need of it.’
Ben collected the key from beneath a stone and opened the door. He led her into a small wainscoted room with a large fireplace at one end. A basket of logs stood to one side.
‘If you have kindling and a tinder box, I will light the fire,’ she offered, trying to shake off the feeling of unreality.
By the time Ben returned from unsaddling Morgan, Sally had a cheerful fire burning in the hearth. The flames and a small oil lamp cast a warm glow around the room. There was only one seat, a small, cushion-covered settle, which Sally dragged closer to the hearth.
‘Ah, this is much more homely.’
His cheerful praise warmed her as much as the fire. He dropped his portmanteau in one corner.
‘All we need now is a good meal.’ He handed her his saddlebag. ‘It is not a banquet, I’m afraid, but I had the landlady put me up some food and wine before I left Boroughbridge this morning and I have not yet touched it. Unpack it and see what we have while I find plates and glasses...’
* * *
An hour later they were sitting together on the settle, the remains of their meal spread on the little table by the window.
Sally gave a sigh of contentment. ‘I had not realised how hungry I was.’
‘Fortunately the landlady thought I needed nourishment,’ said Ben, refilling the glasses. ‘She gave me enough food for two.’
‘More than enough,’ she replied. ‘We have a little bread and some fruit left for the morning.’ She paused. ‘I have not thanked you for rescuing me. It was very kind of you.’
‘Not kind.’
‘No, of course.’ She bent her head. ‘You wanted revenge upon my father.’
‘Can you blame me?’
‘Do you want to punish me, too?’
He shook his head.
‘Not anymore. Tomorrow I will deliver you to your friends in Murton and have done with you.’
‘Yes, I think that would be for the best.’ She paused. ‘I would not have you think too badly of me.’
He gave a bitter laugh. ‘Too late for that.’
Her head dipped lower. She said quietly, ‘I would like to explain, if I can.’
He settled back and stretched his long legs out towards the fire. Why not? It would help to pass the time.
‘You can try,’ he said shortly.
‘I told you that I thought Papa was going to force me to marry Cromer.’
‘Yes. That was why you agreed to run away with Nettleton.’
She bit her lip.
‘Henry came to see me, declared his affection for me and said he would do anything for me, so...so I said
we must elope. I did not know then that he and Papa had concocted the whole plan between them.’
‘And when did you discover you had been hoaxed?’
‘This morning. Henry went out and I decided to tidy up the little desk where he had been writing a letter. I noticed there was writing on one sheet and I picked it up.’ She paused, frowning at the memory. ‘I think Henry concealed his letter from me this morning, pushing it underneath this sheet while the ink was still damp and an image had transferred itself. The word “Markham” is very similar when it is written backwards. I held the paper up to a mirror.’ The shock and horror of what she discovered now returned and she shivered. ‘Henry had written to my father, assuring him that all was going to plan and he hoped to...to have me wedded and bedded within days.’
‘The cunning old devil.’
‘Who, Henry?’
‘No, your father. He knew if he tried to force you to marry Nettleton, you would be likely to reject him at the altar and seek the protection of your brothers.’
She nodded vehemently. ‘I would.’
‘So he concocted this charade to make you think the idea of marriage was all your own. Nettleton gets a willing bride, and Markham links the neighbouring estate to his own. No doubt it is a considerable acreage?’
‘Yes.’ She scowled. ‘Henry is considerably richer than Cromer. I knew Papa would not want me to marry a lord just for his title, but I thought it was because they were old friends. I should have realised such a thing as friendship would not weigh with him.’
‘You have to admit, Sal, it was a clever plan.’
‘It was devilish.’
He knew her too well to miss the quaver of fear in her voice.
‘Is there more?’ He saw her hands tighten on the glass until the knuckles gleamed white, even in the dim light. He said quietly, ‘Tell me, Sal.’
The Tantalizing Miss Coale (The Notorious Coale Brothers) Page 3
