“Anywhere else.”
Montgomery raised a brow at the boy’s disagreeable tone. He didn’t try to change the boy’s mind about his fair city. Besides, riding a giant horse and brandishing pistols, the boy might prove to be entertaining, whereas the lad he had to protect had been nothing but annoying so far.
“Since you don’t have a particular destination in mind and appear to be going in our direction, you’re welcome to join us. Safety in numbers, as it were.”
“I’ve no desire to go south.”
“So anywhere except south? Well, as it happens, we’re not going to Portsmouth. That was just misdirection for the benefit of the robbers, so the offer stands. We’ll be riding north most of the week, and it’s possible more highwaymen might try to delay us along the way.” And for good measure he added, “They’ll stop lone riders, too.”
“They’ll be surprised if they do.”
“Oh?”
The boy ignored his query and actually yelled, “Joining you is an excellent idea!”
“Keep your bloody voice down,” Montgomery growled. “If the gunshots didn’t wake the countryside, you just did.”
“I was letting my imaginary friend know I’m in safe company.”
“Were you now?” Montgomery looked into the woods, but seeing nothing, he snorted. “You can ride in the coach with us.”
“I’ll ride Snow alongside you. The appearance of a guard will deter other robbers.”
Guards didn’t come in such small packages, but he merely said, “Suit yourself, but it’s likely to rain sometime today. This is England, after all.”
Chapter Six
IT WAS A MISTAKE. Vanessa knew it even as she agreed to ride north with the handsome man whose coach had been attacked. Her guards would be annoyed because she’d refused to allow them to ride alongside her. But the man and his ward were interesting and had supplied the first little bit of excitement to what had been an uneventful journey so far.
Besides, by yelling her reply to the man’s invitation, she’d let her guards know that it was her decision to follow the coach and its occupants. It might be a silly way of communicating, but she was sure it had worked.
She had been surprised when the two huge Highlanders, brothers who looked like a pair of mean bears, arrived the day before she was to leave for England. She rarely argued with her father, but this time she did. He’d hired them to accompany her to her mother’s house in Cheshire. She was certain she could protect herself and didn’t need them. But William was adamant, saying, “I’ll never sleep a wink again for worry if I don’t know you have protection in case you need it.”
She’d finally agreed, but with her own stipulation that the Highlanders keep their distance from her during the day and guard her discreetly at night.
As the coach started off down the road and she urged Snow to follow it, she glanced at the trees on the right, looking for a flash of bright-colored plaid. Nothing, not a single movement as far as she could see. Then she remembered the two guards were no longer wearing their usual tartan garb. It wasn’t her idea that they not wear their kilts into England, not a’tall. She’d admired the fine muscular bodies of many a young Highlander while she’d lived in Scotland. It was William who didn’t want the guards drawing extra attention to themselves. She probably would have enjoyed their company, but she wanted to make this journey on her own. It would be her last taste of freedom and independence for a while. The guards certainly were abiding by her wishes, and she would have only the occupants of the coach as traveling companions until she turned off the north road to ride west to Cheshire.
She wondered about the duo in the coach. The boy’s hair was unusually long and not only curly but such a bright gold, women might be envious of it. Nor was it tied back as hers was. His clothes were ridiculously gaudy. It would be preposterous to think the gems he wore were real, obviously they weren’t. The man was dressed like a gentleman or a lord, wearing a dark gray greatcoat over a blue jacket, but oddly no cravat. She’d caught a glimpse of a scarf or a length of linen around his neck that had flapped in the breeze and could be made into a cravat. She might be wearing male garb of good quality herself, but she drew the line at wearing a cravat, even though most gentlemen wouldn’t be seen without one.
The man’s hair was dark auburn. She’d noticed reddish streaks in it when he stood in the sun. It was longer than hers, which she had a devilish time tying back at its current length, but he hadn’t clubbed his, leaving it to float about his wide shoulders. He had a strong chin, a narrow nose, dark emerald eyes. She found his face fascinating and had let her eyes linger on it more than once, blushing when she’d caught herself staring at him too long. She could blame her sheltered existence in the Highlands, and yet she and her father had both traveled, going often to Fraserburgh. But the simple fact was, she’d never come across a man so attractive that she wondered if he might be the rare one who would sign a contract so she could bed him, well, marry him . . . She laughed aloud, what fanciful nonsense was that?
She’d been alone too long, that’s what. She missed having someone to talk to. She should have just ridden in the coach with them. Acting on that thought, she rode closer to the open window to start a conversation but heard one in progress. . . .
“The names we’ve been assigned in this note aren’t that bad,” the man was saying. “Lord Montague Hook for me, not one I would have picked, but calling me Monty will get a quick response. And you are Lord Charley Bates, so a Charley, after all, which you seem to be answering to just fine— Oh, I get it, hook and bait, George was trying to be amusing, apparently. While it isn’t necessary to tell our hosts a single thing about ourselves—”
“Why not?”
“Because our sojourn is to be a secret. They are aware of that and are accepting us as guests as a favor to the Regent, and everyone loves to do favors for George, whether they’ve met our next king or not.” A deep laugh. “Even me—well, I didn’t love it, but I didn’t mind it. However, because of your grand wardrobe—”
Vanessa was surprised that they knew the Prince Regent and wondered why they weren’t using their real names. What had she stumbled upon—two men involved in a secret mission for the Crown? Her boring journey had just turned exciting!
“—we might need to drop at least one falsehood to explain your extravagant clothing,” the man continued. “Compensation for your parents’ absence? They lived in Vienna enamored of the social whirl, while you were stuck in the country with servants? Missed birthdays, etcetera, lots of guilt on their part, so they lavished you with coin, and being furious with them, you squandered it all on a ridiculous wardrobe. How’s that sound? Too close to the truth?”
“Suit yourself,” the boy said in a petulant tone. “I don’t like telling lies.”
“Sure you do. I did m’self at your age, so did my brothers, so did my sisters.”
“You are lucky to have siblings.”
“You have none a’tall?”
“Three died young, only I survived.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say I was lucky to have so many. As the youngest, I bloody well was rarely heard, if you know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“Runt of the litter? Surely you can grasp that concept, the little one gets ignored or pushed around, never wins? By the by, I suppose I should have asked, are you pleased to have a playmate for this journey?”
“Kings don’t get to play,” Charley said in a tone that sounded indignant yet also like a complaint.
The man taking the name of Monty replied harshly, “We might be alone for the moment, but that nonsense about being a king ends here, and don’t make me say it again. You need to get yourself in line, boy. For the duration, consider yourself an actor in training, one who has no delusions of grandeur. And no more bloody snits, either!”
Silence followed, but she imagined the two in the coach were glaring hotly at each other. And she wondered who was telling the truth, the boy who claimed to be a ki
ng, or the man who claimed the boy was delusional. She sided with delusional, because it was insane for a king to travel with only a single guard, no matter what country he was from.
Vanessa pulled up to let the coach get ahead of her again. She couldn’t try to talk to them now when they would think she’d been eavesdropping, and rightly so. And although she was smarting a little at having been called a “playmate” for the conceited boy, which she most certainly wouldn’t be, she was amazed at her luck at running into acquaintances of the Regent who were obviously on some clandestine mission. She might just have an adventure to recount to her sisters when she got home.
Maybe going to London hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. If she hadn’t gotten so nervous about reuniting with her mother and turned away from Cheshire in favor of a visit to her father’s house in London, she wouldn’t have encountered the odd duo. But London had disappointed her. She wondered why anyone would go there for a Season. It was so smoggy her eyes had burned, and the streets had grown more and more congested with each block she passed. Every vehicle imaginable seemed to be leaving the city at that time of day. By the time she and her guards had managed to ride out of the daunting city, it had been dark and too late to look for an inn, so they’d slept outdoors—the first time they’d done that since crossing the border.
Maybe now, with the amusing distraction of her new traveling companions, she wouldn’t feel so nervous about going home. She would veer northwest to Cheshire when the time came. Better to get the unpleasant reunion over with soonest. Her anger would surface; her mother’s rage would also rise because Vanessa had chosen Papa instead of her and had run away to be with him. That was the truth, and she’d own up to it. She knew the other truth, too, and Kathleen Blackburn wouldn’t be able to deny that she was to blame for breaking up their family.
Chapter Seven
“WHAT DO WE CALL you, boy?” Monty asked her as he stepped out of the coach.
Vanessa had already slid off Snow and led him into the grass for his lunch. She glanced at the man and was dazzled by the array of reddish tints glinting in his hair before he stepped out of the sun and into the shade. Which could explain why, without thinking, she said, “Nessi,” and then quickly amended, “Er, well, it’s short for Nestor.”
“Not much shorter, by just one letter,” he pointed out.
She watched him club back his auburn hair before he sat on the blanket the driver had just spread out on the grass.
“If you have a problem with my name, don’t use it,” she replied a trifle stiffly.
“Not a’tall, but I’ll go with Ness, which is shorter than Nestor, if that’s all right with you.”
She had a feeling he didn’t care if it was all right with her, he’d call her Ness anyway. “Suit yourself. And you and the boy? What are your names?”
“The boy is Charley,” he said. “My friends and family call me Monty.”
She knew that was a lie. She’d overheard him and the boy talking about the new names they’d been given. She hoped to learn in the next half hour why they couldn’t use their real names on the journey and wherever they were going.
They had stopped beside the road to eat and rest the horses. There was just one old oak tree there with meadows all around it and a few farms in the distance. The last stand of trees they’d passed was far behind them. Her guards wouldn’t like being so far from her, but they might have to get used to it. There weren’t many forests on the way to Cheshire, and that might become a problem for her, too, she realized.
She’d pulled aside into that last stand of trees to relieve herself, then galloped Snow to catch up with the coach. The pair inside it wouldn’t have noticed, but the driver did glance back at her, no doubt wondering why she was being missish.
She sat on the other side of the large basket the driver had set down on the blanket, across from Monty, and crossed her legs comfortably. Charley had gone off and hadn’t returned yet. And Monty was staring at her. It was a bold stare, which made her quite uncomfortable. Even though they were sitting under the oak, the shaded area was still quite bright with the sunshine all around them—and he might be seeing something she didn’t want him to see despite the hood she was wearing. She’d taken off the scarf earlier because the spring day had warmed up considerably, but now she wished she hadn’t.
She glanced back to see what was keeping Charley but didn’t see him. “Your ward is missing.”
“No, he’s not.”
She turned back to see Monty nodding toward the field to her right. When she looked in that direction she saw the boy walking about briskly for a little exercise. That was a good idea, and it would seem quite normal if she wanted to join someone her age rather than endure the scrutiny of Monty’s inquisitive emerald eyes any longer.
She started to get up to do that, but then he added, “I take my guardianship seriously. The boy will never be out of my sight.”
When he’d just been staring at her instead? But she wasn’t about to point that out and have him tell her what he found so interesting about her. She redirected whatever thoughts he was having by asking, “Why did you steal the horses?”
“Steal from robbers who meant to steal from us? More like justice, wouldn’t you say?”
“I suppose, when you put it like that.”
“And yet there was a more prudent reason. I simply didn’t want them finding their mounts too quickly and deciding their wounds could wait to be tended until after they’d caught up with us again. Besides, we can alternate those mounts with our horses, although that huge brute of yours could probably pull this coach on his own and get us there in half the time.”
“He was bred to be a workhorse, but he’s never been one, has been a friend instead, so I decline the suggestion. Get us where?”
“Oh, somewhere up north, on the coast I think, an estate where we’ve been invited to sojourn for a month or two. I’m sure they won’t mind if I bring you as another guest.”
“And Arlo,” Charley said as he sat down and reached into the basket.
“Arlo can take himself back to London once we get where we’re going,” Monty replied.
“No, he can’t,” Charley insisted.
Vanessa noticed the boy’s jewelry was gone, well, most of it, and likely at Monty’s request. Getting rid of the gems adorning his clothing would require a change of clothes, but that beautiful golden hair would probably be the first thing anyone noticed about him.
“He’s not that pretty,” she heard Monty say when she’d stared a little too long at the boy. Charley immediately gave Monty an aggrieved though haughty glare for that remark.
Vanessa couldn’t help chuckling. “But his hair is.”
“Excellent point,” Monty concurred, and said to Charley, “We need a hood for you, boy. If you have one buried in one of those trunks, fetch it out. Otherwise Arlo can stop in the next town to buy one for you before we go on. As for Arlo staying, explain.”
“You assumed he’s just a driver but he’s not. Arlo is with me, groomed to be my manservant from the day I was born.”
Monty sighed. “So much for thinking he would know if we’ll reach an inn before dark.”
“No, he’s never been out of London before, so he wouldn’t know.”
“What the deuce was George thinking not to give us a real driver?”
“Arlo has a map.”
Monty growled in his throat. Vanessa managed not to laugh but remarked on what was becoming obvious. “It doesn’t sound as if you’ve been Charley’s guardian for very long.”
“Merely an absentee guardian until now,” Monty said evasively.
She decided not to press and got back to what he considered a dilemma, saying, “It’s hard to get lost in England if you’re on a road. Roads lead to people, and people can be asked for directions.”
“Thank you very much, Nestor, for information I am aware of, which doesn’t help a bloody bit if we don’t encounter any people to ask before—or perhaps you know if we
’ll reach an inn before dark?”
She was offended by his sarcastic tone. If she wasn’t hungry and tempted by the aromas coming from that basket, she might have gotten up and left. Impatience like his could be dangerous—or just amusing. Actually, it was another thing she found interesting about him. Was he really so used to getting what he wanted immediately that he became snide and sarcastic if it was withheld? But this was so silly! Had he really not noticed the many travelers they’d passed coming from the direction in which they were headed? Inside the coach, he might not have seen them.
And then she heard a rider coming their way. “You could ask him,” she said a little smugly, and cast her thumb at the road. “But as it happens, if you don’t tarry here too long, you’ll reach a hostelry before dark.”
He raised a brow at her. “You came from the north, did you?”
“I did.”
“And you couldn’t just say so?”
She grinned. “I just did. I had no trouble finding a bed to sleep in each night. But I didn’t need to stay at the next hostelry we’ll be coming to,” she added. “I make better time riding alone on Snow.”
He glanced over her head at her pet. “Then you’re not in a hurry to get home, since you’re plodding along with us?”
He was assuming that’s where she was going. Or he figured the question would make her reveal her destination, which she wasn’t about to do, so she simply replied, “You’re an interesting pair of traveling companions who will break the monotony of a long trip.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been called interesting before,” Charley remarked a bit snobbishly before tossing a napkin onto her lap.
“I know I haven’t,” Monty added with a laugh, but then he added as he looked at Charley, “But I assure you we aren’t interesting a’tall, just ordinary people undertaking a long journey.”
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