by Unknown
"Milord?" Danielle was regarding him anxiously and he forced a light smile.
"Nothing troubles me, infant. I was wondering if you felt strong enough to ride today."
"Instead of traveling boxed up in one of those horrid coaches?" Her eyes shone.
"Exactly."
"Oh, I should like it of all things. But where shall we find horses?"
"We shall hire them in the village." A slightly pained look passed across His Lordship's countenance. "They will be hacks, of course, but I daresay we can contrive to make do."
Danny clapped her hands in delight. "I have not been on the back of a horse since February."
His Lordship felt a twinge of doubt. "How well do you ride, brat?"
The look of withering scorn he received informed him all too clearly that that was a question better not
to have been asked.
"Certainly as well as you, sir, if not better" was the very dignified response.
Linton sighed. "Danielle, you really must learn to guard your tongue. Such sharp responses to relatively innocent questions will not endear you to the ton."
"I cannot imagine why I should wish to endear myself," she bristled. "I have no intention of being introduced to the ton."
The earl frowned, opened his mouth on a sharp retort, and then thought better of it, saying only, "I rather think your grandparents will have a different view of the matter. I am going to see to the horses. Do you care to accompany me?"
This prospect was sufficiently diverting to put out of mind the uneasy feelings provoked by their exchange and Danielle was far too accustomed to pursuing her own course to be long troubled by the idea of opposition to a path she had decided upon when her flight began.
She gazed around her with great interest as they came up on deck. The famous white cliffs of Dover were asawe-inspiringas she remembered from her childhood journey and the small seaside village bustled under the early morning sun. The Pelican Inn stood back from the quay, the gleaming, white-washed brick and sparkling mullioned casements ample evidence of its prosperity.
In the clean, orderly stableyard behind the inn the earl surveyed the five available horses critically.
"Do you have a preference, Danny?"
She clearly took the question very seriously and he watched with interest and growing respect her thorough examination of the candidates. Sensitive fingers explored tendons, checked the broad backs for
a hint of concealed saddle-soreness, lifted thick velvety lips to reveal yellow, tombstone teeth.
"The piebald gelding and the gray mare. They're not pretty." Two enchanting dimples peeped in the thin cheeks. "But they have the most stamina. The black will be blown after twenty miles, the bay is swaybacked, and the roan fit only fora child in leading strings."
Linton nodded, having reached much the same conclusion himself. The two she had selected were certainly rawboned jobbing horses but quite the best on offer.
"See that they are saddled then. I'll be in the coffee room."
Danielle watched him go into the inn, reflecting that this role of servant was not becoming less irksome with practice. Soon she would have to face the uncomfortable task of informing her self-appointed guardian that she had rescinded her promise made in Paris. Having pledged the word of a Varennes she could not, in honor, break it, so the promise must be openly withdrawn first.
She saddled the mare herself while a stableboy performed the same office for the gelding and then, mounting without assistance, took the piebald's rein and rode to the front of the inn. Linton swung himself into the saddle and the portmanteau was strapped securely behind. Danny, he noticed, sat the large gray as if she were an integral part of the animal, its personality a mere extension of her own.
"We take the London road," he declared briskly. "I hope to do sixty miles today."
"Why London?" Danielle frowned in puzzlement. "As I recall, we did not pass through London on the way to Cornwall when I came with Maman."
"I have some business to transact first."
"Oh?" His inquisitive charge raised a pair of inquiring eyebrows and Linton decided that now was probably as good an opportunity as any other to broach some part at least of his plan.
Danielle heard him out in interested reflective silence. "But in what guise am I to meet your Monsieur Pitt?"
"He is Milord Chatham, actually," Linton corrected her. "As to your question, I am in something of a puzzle as how to contrive for the best. But I daresay something will occur to me."
They made good speed, stopping only twice to rest the horses : and take refreshment at the inns liberally scattered along this ' busy post road. It was late afternoon when they clattered into the stableyard of the Red Lion, some twenty miles outside London. Danielle showed no obvious signs of fatigue and if it hadn't been for her ordeal of the previous night, linton would have been tempted to complete the journey that evening. But, in spite of the straight back and easy seat, there were drawn lines around the purple-smudged eyes and a pallid tinge to the ivory complexion.
"Gad, Linton! Is it indeed you? Well, 'pon my soul, what brings you here, Justin?"
Danny, gazing wide-eyed at the author of this exclamatory speech, missed the look of annoyance that flashed across her companion's features which were instantly schooled to their customary impassivity.
"Good day to you, Julian. My dinner, as it happens," the earl replied calmly, reaching down a slender hand to take his cousin's beringed fingers.
Danielle had never seen anyone quite so magnificent as Lord Julian Carlton. A coat of claret velvet with silver lacing, dove-colored britches clasped at the knee with sapphire buckles, white silk stockings, and diamond-heeled shoes encased a frame quite as powerful as her guardian's. Sapphires gleamed in the lace at his throat and his own hair was hidden beneath a magnificent perruque whose curls fell artlessly on the broad forehead of a surprisingly boyish face.
"Then, m'boy, you are in luck," Lord Julian boomed jovially. "I have already bespoken a dinner to gratify even your exacting tastes, and Mine Host has assured me of the excellence of his '67 claret." A cerulean blue eye suddenly fell on His Lordship's mount. "Lud, Justin," he murmured in awe, "what the devil are you doing racketing around the countryside on that boneshaker?"
"It has stamina, Julian," His Lordship observed blandly, "although, I confess, little claim to grace."
He swung easily to the ground and turning toward Danny surprised the look of ill-concealed admiration
on a face that suddenly looked too feminine for comfort.
"Your manners appear to have left you with your wits, boy." He spoke harshly in rapid French as he handed her the reins of his gelding.
Lord Julian, for the first time, noticed his cousin's companion and his eyebrows shot up at the most un-servantlike look of indignation that the lad flashed at his master before, with an almost defiant gesture, snatching the reins from His Lordship's hand and turning the horses toward the stables. Any comment he might have made, however, was forestalled by Linton who, laying a friendly arm over his shoulders, moved him toward the inn with a polite inquiry as to his presence on the road to Dover.
Justin was actually very fond of his young cousin whose guardianship he had relinquished some four years previously when the orphaned Lord Julian came of age, but at this moment he wished him at the devil. Nothing could be more unfortunate than this unexpected meeting. Julian, for all his dandified affectations, carried sharp eyes and a good head on those broad shoulders and he could place no reliance on Danielle's powers of discretion. In fact, he strongly suspected that she didn't know the meaning of the word. It looked as if he was facing a most uncomfortable evening that would not be compensated even
by the Red Lion's best dinner and the '67 claret.
His worst fears were confirmed by Danny's somewhat precipitate entrance some minutes later into the private parlor that he had perforce agreed to share with Julian. Both men turned in surprise as the door burst open with a lamentable lack of ceremony
.
"It is customary to knock on a closed door, brat," Linton said in that soft voice that Danielle had come to recognize as denoting annoyance.
"Well, I'm sorry, milord, I'm sure—I jest come for me orders." She had reverted to her backstreet French but her whole body radiated challenge and her eyes kept sliding toward Lord Julian. "I seen to the 'orses and if you'll not be wantin' me agin, I'll go fer me dinner."
Linton sighed. His cousin's presence obliged him to respond to the challenge. If he let it pass Lord Julian's curiosity would be piqued even further—he was already gazing in startled amazement at this extraordinary display of impudence from a mere servant lad.
The earl crossed the room. "You are insolent, boy," he said gently, the handle of his riding whip catching the urchin's chin, pushing it upwards to meet his narrowed eyes. "I do not tolerate insolence, as you will discover if you are not very careful. Is it understood?"
The brown eyes sparked fire, but the earl had placed himself between Danny and his cousin, effectively blocking the latter's view. "You will go to my chamber," he continued as gently as before. "Unpack my portmanteau and lay out my clothes for the evening. I shall require hot water and your presence when I come up myself in about fifteen minutes."
A look of uncertainty crossed the small heart-shaped face as Danielle wondered uneasily if this time she had perhaps gone too far. She murmured a meek "Yes, milord," and on being released beat a hasty retreat.
"Pon my soul, Justin, that's an engaging scapegrace! Not your usual style though. Where'd you acquire him?"
His Lordship examined his cravat minutely in the mirror above the mantel, making an imperceptible adjustment to a fold before replying lazily, "It was a vast error on my part, Julian, I must confess. I yielded, would you believe, to a moment of pity and intervened in a brawl between that vagabond and
a mountain of a baker. It was the odds, you see," he added with a weary sigh. "They were really not entirely fair and I felt an unaccountable urge to even them. It was an impulse I have since had cause to regret on many occasions."
"Gad, Justin!" Lord Julian's shoulders were shaking. "No one is going to believe that, moved by such an energetic emotion as compassion, you of all people have saddled yourself with an impudent whelp."
"I do beg of you, Julian, that you will not feel the urge to try our friends' powers of belief. It is a tale I prefer kept secret." Arched eyebrows lifted, and Lord Julian, realizing that he had in some way been issued an order, made haste to ensure his cousin that his lips were sealed.
"What do you intend doing with him, though? You'll hardly keep him beside you. I'd lay a thousand guineas to see Petersham's reaction!"
The earl shuddered slightly. He could well imagine the reaction of that august personage to the incorrigible Danny.
"I shall send him to Danesbury," he replied with a bland disregard for the truth. "The lad hasa way with horses, he'll do well enough in the stables, and John will knock him into shape."
Julian nodded his agreement. The head groom at Linton's Hampshire estates had been responsible for knocking more than stable-boys into shape over the years. He himself had spent some uncomfortable moments under that rough tutelage.
Linton found his urchin in an unusually subdued frame of mind when he entered the large, sun-filled chamber some minutes later. He bent a stern eye on the small figure curled up in a large chair by the window.
"Your hot water is here, milord, and I unpacked your toilet articles, but I-did not know what you wished to wear this evening," she murmured placatingly, dropping her eyes under that unrelenting gaze.
"Danielle, you should know by now that I do not expect you to play the role of servant when we are private, but if we are to brush through this ridiculous charade with any degree of success, you must maintain your part in public. That ill-conceived performance you have just put on for my cousin's benefit was foolish beyond tolerance. Do you choose to spend your life a social outcast immured in the depths of Cornwall? Because, make no mistake, my girl, that is exactly what will happen if any part of this escapade of yours becomes common knowledge!"
"You made me cross and I ... I sometimes don't think very clearly when I am cross." It didn't sound much of an explanation even to Danny's ears and her guardian was clearly unimpressed.
"If by that you mean my attempt to bring you to your senses in the stableyard then you are even more foolish than I thought. You were looking at Julian with the doe eyes of a heartsick debutante—hardly an appropriate expression for a servant lad!"
"He is very handsome," Danielle muttered and the earl shot her a startled look, surprised by a curious stab of a most unusual emotion—not jealousy, surely? Of course, his cousin was much closer in age to this disreputable vagabond than he, who was undoubtedly viewed as an irritatingly dictatorial guardian. He shrugged slightly. In both their interests it was a role he must maintain to the hilt, at least until he could hand the charge over to the Earl of March.
"He may be handsome, brat, but he is also a rake, as you will no doubt discover when you make your debut," he declared curtly, turning to his portmanteau for a change of shirt and cravat.
"My plans, milord, do not include making my debut," Danielle said steadfastly, deciding that since Iinton was already but of temper now was as good a moment as any other to make her declaration.
"Now what the devil do you mean by that?" Linton went impatiently behind the dressing screen. "Of course you will make your come-out, unless you intend to marry some clod of a country squire and bury yourself amongst the cows in Cornwall."
"My lord, I should tell you that the promise I made in Paris must be withdrawn. I can no longer accept your protection."
If she had expected an explosion, she was disappointed. His lordship merely said, in a tone of polite interest, "Now why should that be, brat?"
"I have plans, milord, that I do not think you will approve. I am sure I can count on my grandfather's assistance, but I am afraid you will attempt to dissuade him."
This disengenuous statement brought a smile to the Earl of Linton's lips. "If they are anything like your usual plans, infant, I am sure you are right. Am I to know what they are?"
"I may be foolish, milord, but I am not an imbecile," Danielle stated with dignity. An involuntary shout of laughter came from behind the screen.
"However," she went on, disregarding this unseemly reaction as utterly contemptible, "I will not leave you until we have met your Lord Chatham. I will help there in any way I can."
"Well, brat, I am obliged to you for informing me of these new developments. However, I should inform you that you will not be leaving me at all before I hand you into the charge of your grandfather." The earl reemerged, a new man in fresh linen and snowy lace, and reached for a soft silk coat of midnight blue, easing it over his shoulders, making minute adjustments to the ruffs at cuffs and throat before inserting a large diamond in the latter.
"I do not think, milord, that you will succeed in preventing me," Danielle pronounced stoutly.
At that His Lordship's eyebrows rose. "Oh come now, child, that is truly idiotish, if not imbecilic. I am only sorry that you wish to put me to the test, for it will add most considerably to the tedium of our journey, I do assure you. However, we must hope between here and London that you will come to your senses, for you are really not stupid at all," he added kindly, taking snuff from a pretty enameled box.
Danielle glowered at him in wordless indignation. She was strongly tempted to launch one of her tirades
of abuse at this insufferably arrogant individual but that was a lesson she had learned well and wisely decided to keep her own counsel.
"I will not insist you remain abovestairs this evening," Linton continued thoughtfully, "although I do recommend it. You must certainly seek your bed at an early hour, however. You had little enough sleep last night and a long ride today. Shall I have your dinner sent up?"
"No, indeed not," Danny declared. "I will take my meal in the kitchen as befits
the public role of a mere servant."
"As you wish," the earl said calmly, refusing to rise to the challenge. "You will stay out of trouble, though, won't you, brat?" He pinched- her cheek carelessly before leaving the chamber to seek his dinner and his cousin in the private parlor.
The gesture for some reason infuriated Danielle. She muttered crossly as she used what water her companion had left to cleanse herself of the worst of her travel dust before making her own way to the kitchen and what proved a very convivial evening. Her ready wit and easygoingfriendliness endeared her rapidly to the large group of servers, wenches, and stablelads crowding the long kitchen table. Mrs. Jarvis, the innkeeper's lady, was a motherly soul who instantly decided that this scrawny lad was much in need of feeding and piled the wooden trencher in front of her with mounds of floury boiled potatoes and thick slices of mutton. Danny didn't particularly care for the taste of ale but the foaming pitchers passed back and forth down the table and, in the absence of anything more palatable, she sipped circumspectly, carefully hiding the involuntary moue of distaste.