Ravishing Regencies- The Complete Series

by Emily Murdoch

  James swallowed. She was such a delightful morsel, and he was starting to hunger for her in a way that was simply not gentlemanly.

  “I am aware of the…the inconvenience,” he said quietly, trying to keep his eyes to her face, and nowhere else. “I am very happy to offer to sleep on the chamber floor, giving you full reign of the bed itself.”

  It was difficult not to hold his breath as he made this offer – rather rakishly too, if James was honest with himself. He had danced that particular dance before, and it had taken but twenty minutes to gain acceptance onto the bed, and then into the bed, and then into the young woman in question.

  To seduce a woman who already feels comfortable is no hard hill to climb.

  “I cannot, sir,” said Miss Kirkland, breaking into his delightful memories, and a sharp bitterness flowed through him, mingled with growing desire. “But I have a solution which I would like to propose.”

  James’ traitorous heart leapt, hopeful that she would still come around to the idea. Was it so unseemly to desire such a woman? Was it really unthinkable that she may want him too?

  “I will sleep here, in the coach,” Miss Kirkland said decidedly with a look of firm determination on her features. “That solves the problem entirely, for I have little spare coin on me at any rate. You take the chamber in the inn, I will sleep here, and we can continue our journey on the morrow.”

  James internally groaned. Well, she had him good and cornered now. As a gentleman, there was no possibility that he could allow her to do such a thing, and if she was half as intelligent as he suspected her to be, the very beautiful Miss Kirkland knew precisely that.

  He sighed, and inclined his head. “‘Tis a generous offer, but I could not possibly accept it. Your idea, however, has merit and I would be honoured if you would accept the room inside the inn, and I will sleep here tonight.”

  “Why thank you, Mr Paendly,” she said a little too quickly and with a broad smile. “You are a very noble man for offering to do so.”

  James sighed again. He had been played: he knew it, and she knew it, and he had come out decidedly on the bottom. Well, he had slept in worse places before, that was true. All he needed now was something to eat, and he could collapse with tiredness, curled up in the coach.

  A knocking at the door startled him, but when he opened it there was only Smith standing there.

  “’Pologies for disturbing, m’lord,” he said with a nervous look at Miss Kirkland, who was thankfully remaining silent. “I came to tell you, sir, that food has been sent up to the room, and – ”

  “Marvellous,” said Miss Kirkland, opening her own door and stepping out of the carriage. “Smith, you may take my luggage up with me.”

  And off she strode towards the inn.

  James watched her go with a sad smile. What had it been: two hours since he had first encountered Miss Rebecca Kirkland? She had bedazzled him and confused him and beguiled him almost in equal measure since then, and yet he was nowhere near understanding her.

  Smith was staring at him in confusion, and James shrugged. “You heard the lady, Smith, take her luggage up for her. And bring me some food out here, will you? I will be napping across the boards.”

  It was not until Smith nodded slowly that something struck James. “My word, Smith, is this where you normally sleep?”

  A flush of defiance crept over his servant’s face as he nodded.

  “Well, my apologies for stealing your spot,” said James easily, knowing full well that Smith would rather chop his own arm off than take offence from his master. “And where will you be staying the night, then?”

  Smith broke out into a broad grin. “Well, there is a serving maid who I know here, m’lord – Abigail, she is – and…well, whenever we are passing, I usually drop in and…give her a visit.”

  James chuckled and shook his head. “I bet you do, you old rascal! Be off with you then, after luggage and food has been taken care of, and mind that you are here early tomorrow morning. I would imagine that our passenger will want to depart without delay.”

  Still grinning, Smith bowed his head, and pulled Miss Kirkland’s luggage down from the roof and carried it over to the inn.

  James was still smiling after Smith had brought him something to eat – a little stew, it looked like, with indistinct meat swimming in the centre of the bowl. Well, he thought, at least one of us tupping a girl this night, though I confess I would much rather it had been myself!

  Unpalatable food swallowed down, James attempted to make himself as comfortable as it was possible to be in the coach. It is going to be a long night, with the thoughts of Miss Rebecca Kirkland swimming through his mind and the thought of her even now undressing in the inn before him.

  4

  For the third time in the last ten minutes, Rowena stifled a yawn, and tried not to sink deeper into the lush and comforting carriage as she was jostled along in the bright morning light. The bed, if you could call it a bed, that had been offered by the inn was certainly nowhere near as comfortable as she had been accustomed to, and she fought down another yawn as she looked around the carriage.

  And caught Mr Paendly yawning too. She almost smiled to see him struggle to hide his tiredness from her, but a sharp thrill of guilt also rushed through her. After all, she did effectively bully him into sleeping in this carriage, and it must have been even less restful than her own repose.

  An image flashed across her mind: the sight of Mr Paendly all curled up in this coach, in a small ball on one side. A broad smile swept unbidden across her face.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Startled, Rowena hid the smile – but not quickly enough. Mr Paendly was staring at her with a curious look on his face, and he had definitely caught her grinning.

  “There must be a reason for such a beautiful woman to smile,” Mr Paendly continued, and Rowena felt heat once again across her cheeks.

  It had been awkward enough this morning, as she had come downstairs after breaking her fast alone, to find Mr Paendly stretching outside the carriage. Their eyes had met, and the flash of heat between them had made Rowena gasp under her breath.

  The intensity of his look now almost drew out the same gasp. Trying to control herself, she murmured, “I am just looking forward to getting home, sir, that is all.”

  She looked away, but knew that his gaze was still on her. A minute, perhaps two, passed in silence. And then –

  “Tell me,” came Mr Paendly’s voice, but it was more gentle now, softer, with none of the grit of the day before. Rowena could not help but tilt her head to behold him as he continued. “Exactly how did you manager to get yourself stuck at a coaching inn, alone, with no means of returning home?”

  Rowena looked into his pale blue eyes, and hesitated. She could not entirely put her finger on it, and if someone had asked her to explain it, she would not have been able to, but something in her told her that she could trust him.

  Mr Paendly smiled, and the smile reached his eyes and softened them, causing crinkles to appear around them. “You can trust me.”

  She swallowed, and opened her mouth – and at that precise instant the coach jerked heavily to the left and it tilted wildly, and not before it righted itself did Rowena Kerr find herself falling across the coach.

  Breath knocked out off her, heart fluttering, head swimming, Rowena was conscious only of the strength of his arms, the way that he held her steady, the heat of his chest as she leaned against him, her fingers, unsure where to settle, and her heart beat faster as she became more aware of where she was.

  Nestled into Mr Paendly’s arms.

  “C-Careful, Miss Kirkland.”

  Rowena did not need to see his face to hear the juddering control that Mr Paendly was attempting to keep as he helped her back to her seat. She hid her face from him, flushed as it was at the closeness that they had just experienced, but she could not help but glance over at him as she busied herself with tidying her skirts.

  There was an unset
tled look on his face, something between hope and disappointment. Rowena fought down the wish that he found her beautiful. Why should it matter? Why should she care what this Mr Paendly thought of her; what was he to her?

  Thoughts of wild kisses overwhelmed her mind, and Rowena shook her head and screwed her eyes tight. This was not the time to daydream.

  Two loud bangs made her jump, and she looked up to see that her travelling companion had hit on the roof.

  “By Jove, Smith, what the hell is going on?”

  Hurried footsteps preceded the appearance at the door of Smith, looking just as rattled as Rowena felt.

  “I apologise, my lord, a large dip in the road for which I was unprepared – ”

  “I was rattled about like a jack in the box in here!”

  “My apologies, my lord, but it seems as though,” and here Rowena saw Smith swallow and cast his eyes down, as though unable to face his master as he spoke, “we may have to take a longer route.”

  Silence sat uncomfortably for a moment as Mr Paendly glared at his servant – and something twinged in Rowena’s mind that did not make sense. What was it?

  “Longer route,” repeated Mr Paendly.

  Smith shuffled his feet and Rowena heard the splatter of the mud as he did so. “Yes, my lord. The river, it is still swollen and more so after last night’s rain. We will have to go further along to reach the nearest bridge, my lord.”

  That was it, thought Rowena, startled. My lord. Why does Smith keep calling Mr Paendly ‘my lord’? Unless…unless he is no Mr Paendly at all, no more than I am Rebecca Kirkland. But why would he lie?

  “…nothing for it,” Mr Paendly was saying with a severe look on his face. “But I want a smooth ride, Smith, there is a gentlelady in here who does not want to arrive at her destination scrambled like an egg!”

  With muttered apologies and much bowing of the head, Smith retreated back to his station and within a moment, the carriage was moving once more.

  There was a loud sigh, and Rowena could not help herself. She looked up.

  “I must make my own apologies, Miss Kirkland,” Mr Paendly shook his head as he spoke. “I am afraid the weather is rather against us, but never fear. We shall make it, but we are going to have to go the long way around.”

  Rowena nodded, knowing that any word she spoke would immediately betray her disappointment, but she was evidently not circumspect enough.

  “I understand your disappointment, truly,” he said gently. “But were you not about to say something before we were… well...interrupted?”

  It was impossible to prevent a slight blush from overwhelming her cheeks at the very thought of telling this Mr Paendly what had happened. Rowena bit her lip. There was something about this man: something that encouraged confidences, without words, without cajoling, without wheedling it out of her. Something about the way that he was: she trusted him completely, and she had no real notion why.

  Rowena took a deep breath. Mr Bentley had been going in a different direction, so he would not be held up by this dratted river. He would probably be home by now. He may already have informed his family, his acquaintances. There was surely no harm in revealing the truth now.

  Tempting as it was to close her eyes or look away from Mr Paendly as she spoke, Rowena blinked and gazed at him directly. “I was eloping.”

  Shock, surprise, and a little horror flashed across his face, and she almost smiled at the visceral reaction that she saw in him. My, but men were all the same really. Society could tell her that it was she that was the gentler sex, but that did not match her experiences in the world.

  “El-eloping?” Mr Paendly spluttered. “Eloping, Miss Kirkland?”

  Rowena nodded. “As shocking as this may seem, it does occasionally happen – particularly when one or both of the parties in question have reasons to leave families behind in order to form the union.”

  The coach was moving smoothly now, and her companion was leaning back in his seat with wonder on his face.

  “Eloping,” he repeated.

  Rowena coloured slightly, and felt the heat of embarrassment rise up in her. “Yes, eloping. I thought that…that I loved Mr Bentley, and he told me that he loved me too.”

  Mr Paendly snorted, and she shot a dark glare at him.

  “And why,” she said severely, “is it so surprising that anyone would love me, and wish to marry me?”

  She saw at once that he regretted his instinctual opinion, but there was still something about the way that he was looking at her that made her uncomfortable.

  Cheeks slightly darkened, Mr Paendly said quietly, “‘Tis of no surprise to me that anyone would wish to marry you, Miss Kirkland. I suppose what does surprise me is that you are evidently not married. Something went wrong.”

  Unable to help herself, Rowena moved her hands to cover the left, conscious of the absence of a ring on her fourth finger. She nodded stiffly, and glanced out of the window.

  It was a fully minute before she spoke again. “We arrived at the church too late yesterday. The vicar told us that if we had been there but five minutes earlier, it would have been sufficient, but we had no choice but to find a coaching inn for the night. Oscar…Mr Bentley took a little too much wine that evening, and admitted to me that far from being the love match that I had supposed, our marriage was just a means for him to…to claim his fortune.”

  It was Mr Paendly’s gasp that made her turn away from the window and look back at him, and Rowena was astonished to see what looked like genuine concern on his face.

  “Fortune?”

  Rowena nodded. “Mr Oscar Bentley, you understand, is the younger brother of Mr Benjamin Bentley, of Old Ashton. He is without children, and fifteen years older than his brother. If Mr Oscar Bentley marries and has a son…”

  Mr Paendly’s eyes were wide now, but Rowena could not tell whether he was shocked at the revelation that she had eloped, astonished at the reasons that Mr Bentley had attempted to marry her, or revolted that the elopement had not even taken place.

  “I am worth far more than that,” Rowena said fiercely, her hands now bunching into fists. “I am more than my ability to bear a child, and I told him so. We stayed at the coaching inn last night, and I have waited all day for a coach to take me home as…as soon as possible.”

  James’ mouth was slightly open, but he gave little thought to how he must look. So, that was the secret after all: a failed elopement, and one that had included a night in the same room. Well, it was no wonder that she wanted to keep that quiet; if the ton discovered that she would be ruined forever, no man worth his sense would even consider her.

  And yet look at her. There was pride in the way she held herself as she looked back at him. She knew in herself that she had made the right decision, no matter the consequences, no matter the cost. James felt admiration for her flood through him, with a hint of anger at this Mr Bentley, whoever he was.

  Who could look at Miss Rebecca Kirkland and see just the possibility of a child? Could he not value her for what she was?

  It was difficult not to feel impressed by the woman that was seated before him, and a little amazed at her gall – and he found himself saying so.

  “There cannot be many women in England who would have the power to say that to a man,” James said quietly. “Much less one with whom she had spent a night. Nonetheless, I would never have imagined a woman like you having such strength in the face of Mr Bentley’s rather distasteful revelation. You are a unique woman.”

  James did not miss the faint smile on her face, but it was gone in an instant.

  “I have always known what I want,” she said quietly, her gaze dropping, “and unafraid to take it. I was bold, perhaps, in deciding to elope with Mr Bentley in the first place. I have no doubt that I was just as bold in deciding to leave him unwed.”

  It was as though he was seeing her in a completely new light, and it was impossible for James to untangle the attraction that he felt for her with the unmistakeable way that she im
pressed him. Only one woman had ever done that before.

  “And so now, you are on your way home,” he managed to say, almost calmly. “What do you intend to do when you arrive there?”

  He was becoming more attuned to her now; even though she attempted to hide the flash of nervousness, James saw it.

  “Mr Bentley and I came to an agreement before he departed from the coaching inn,” said Miss Kirkland stiffly. “He would not tell anyone of the…misadventure that we found ourselves on. I did, however, leave a letter for my parents, and I am not entirely sure whether…”

  Her voice trailed off, and she bit her lip. Something about the way that her eyes dropped to the hands clasped in her lap, the slump of her shoulders, the crinkling frown of her brows, stirred something in James. It wasn’t desire. It was something deeper.

  “Of course, they may not even accept me back as their daughter,” Miss Kirkland continued with a wry smile. “Now that I am sullied goods, they may be unwilling to have me under their roof, let alone under their protection.”

  James’ eyes flickered over her, taking in the golden hair, the curve of her jaw as she spoke, the gently rising breasts that seemed barely contained in her gown, the slope of her waist. By God, what it would have been like to enjoy her – and this Mr Bentley had had that privilege, though it sounds like he little deserves her.

  His imagination uncontrolled by the smallest of moments, she was above him, straddling him, her hair pouring down towards him as her luscious mouth –

  “Mr Paendly?”

  James jumped as the real Miss Kirkland stared at him. It was ridiculous to attempt to lie to himself now: he wanted her, and he wanted her more now that he knew some other man had taken from her that most precious thing. Her innocence gone, her parental protection almost certainly revoked, who would care for her now?