Caught by the Scot

by Karen Hawkins

  Spencer rubbed his chin. “ ’Tis a pity Miss Cumberbatch-Snowe dinnae have a lady’s maid.”

  Ferguson snorted. “What guid would a lady’s maid do?”

  “Think on it: if Miss Simmons is half of a chaperone, then a lady’s maid might be the other half.”

  Conner considered this. “That’s nae a bad thought.” Two chaperones might keep Thea free of the squire. But would it be enough to curb his own ever-growing desires? It would have to. “Ferguson, bring me the itinerary. I’ve a mind to set a new course that slips to the west before heading north. That will add a few more days.”

  “Ah! Setting a kedge, are you, Cap’n? Verrah guid. I’ll fetch the maps.” Ferguson hurried out of the stables to the coach, and soon returned with a small leather packet.

  “Excellent.” Conner tucked the packet under his arm. “Get the coach and horses ready. The squire cannae continue his seduction crammed between a sneezing Miss Simmons and a lady’s maid. Now, to find a maid willing to—” He blinked. “Bloody hell, I think I’ve an answer. Thank you, men. You’ve been a great help.”

  Deep in thought, Conner retraced his steps through the garden, stopping short when he saw the squire walking back to the inn. Perhaps . . . just perhaps . . . this was the answer to his problem.

  He strode swiftly forward and called out, “Lance! So tell me, what did you find oot aboot your amazing turnips?”

  16

  Theodora watched as the final pieces of luggage were strapped to the coach. It was barely nine and they were already preparing to get under way. Now that Lance was sightseeing rather than eloping, he was much more prompt.

  “Ah! Theodora!” Jane came out of the inn, holding her knitting basket and a handkerchief. “I was just looking for—” She sneezed into her kerchief.

  “I wish we had medicine for that sneeze.” Poor Jane’s face was flushed and her eyes shiny as if they were watering. “Perhaps you should see a doctor before we leave.”

  “I’m fine, truly.” Jane tugged her coat closer about her, her gaze drifting to where Conner spoke with Lance near the horses. “Is Mr. Douglas riding in the coach with us?”

  Theodora tried to ignore the hopeful note in Jane’s voice. “No, he’s not.” Because I won’t let him. “Conner will ride his horse and will likely meet us at the next inn.”

  Jane watched Conner as she absently sneezed again into her kerchief. “It’s a pity he’s not riding with us. He’s a very interesting man.”

  He was a thorn in Theodora’s side, was what he was, and their journey would be much better off without him. Life would be less complicated, and right now that was all she wanted.

  She tried not to watch Conner, but it was difficult. Even though he was dressed with unusual propriety today in a typical blue coat and buff britches, he’d managed to make the outfit seem rakish. In addition to the sensual slant of his smile, he wore a wide leather belt that held a brace of pistols. The silver handles, heavily engraved and shiny, peeped out when he lifted his arm, as he was doing now.

  It was just like him to appear in some ways so very normal and perhaps even marriageable. But then he lifted his arm and reminded one that he was neither, but was instead a dashing privateer with a deep desire to sail away from everyone and everything he knew.

  “His horse is lovely.” Jane patted her pink nose with her kerchief. “But so spirited! It keeps prancing about—I don’t know how Mr. Douglas will stay astride.”

  “He’s an accomplished rider,” Theodora said grudgingly. She envied Conner his ride, for the unexpectedly mild weather combined with the rolling green hills beckoned to her. She wished she’d thought to bring her favorite mare.

  Jane tucked her handkerchief into her knitting basket, her gaze still on Conner. “Perhaps I’ll knit a man’s scarf. I have some pale blue yarn left over from another project.”

  Pale blue, like Conner’s eyes. Theodora stifled the urge to say something cutting for no good reason whatsoever. “Come, let’s get in the coach. Perhaps that will encourage the men to be on our way.”

  “Gor’, I get to ride in that?”

  Theodora turned.

  The maid Alice stood in the doorway, a limp bonnet mashed over her curls, a serviceable coat hanging from her shoulders, and a bruised hatbox clutched in one hand. “It looks like a fairy-tale coach, it does!”

  Theodora blinked. “I’m sorry, but what—” She spoke to air, for Alice had already stomped past and was now peering into the coach’s open door.

  The maid dropped her hatbox and then reached in and pressed a fist against a velvet-covered seat. “Why, my bottom will be as comfortable as that of a fat angel sitting on a cloud!”

  Theodora looked at Jane, who appeared equally shocked. Collecting herself, Theodora forced a smile. “Alice, there seems to have been a mistake. You aren’t coming with us.”

  Alice kept punching the seat. “Oh, but I am.”

  Theodora narrowed her gaze. “By whose request?” Conner Douglas, if you are up to more trickery—

  “The squire asked me to come.”

  That brought Theodora up short. “The squire?”

  “Oh yes. He’s unhappy you don’t have no lady’s maid.”

  “A lady’s maid? But I never asked him to—”

  “He said it were to be a surprise, miss. But a necessary one.”

  Though Conner’s name hadn’t come up, Theodora couldn’t help sliding an accusing glance his way. He was still laughing and talking with Lance, which suddenly seemed suspicious indeed. “He did, did he?”

  “Aye. I’m to go with you all the way to wherever you’re going, which I hope will be Lunnon, as I’ve never been.”

  “We are not going to London,” Theodora said with finality.

  Alice’s face fell, but she recovered instantly. “Oh well, wherever you go, I’m sure it will be better than here.” She reclaimed her hatbox and beamed at them both. “So? Do we leave soon?”

  “No,” Theodora said grimly. “Excuse me for a moment, I must have a word with the squire.” She gathered her skirts and marched across the inn yard.

  Conner’s gaze met hers the instant she moved in his direction, and she detected a hint of laughter there. He nudged Lance, whose back was to her, and the squire turned.

  On seeing her expression, Lance’s smile faltered, but by the time she reached him it was back in place. “Theodora! There you are. We should be leaving soon, so—”

  “Did you hire that girl to be my lady’s maid?”

  Lance’s smile faded a bit. “Alice? Why, yes. I thought it would be a nice surprise and—”

  “I do not need a lady’s maid. I’ve been using Spencer’s services.”

  “I know, but he won’t be with us forever.” Lance gave her a significant look as he spoke that made her pause.

  “Oh.” Lance was right. Once they reached Gretna, and rid themselves of Conner and his servants, she would be without any help with her clothes. “Does Alice know anything about being a lady’s maid?”

  “She’ll learn. Besides, it’s only for a few days and then we’ll be home, and you can hire someone more to your liking.” Smiling, Lance took her hand and pressed a kiss to her fingers. “The least I can do is provide you with the proper servants, seeing as how our trip has become so convoluted.”

  There was a hint of the theatric to Lance’s gesture, and she knew it was for Conner’s benefit. Well, two could play that game. Aware of Conner’s gaze, she smiled up at Lance. “You were being thoughtful, as usual.”

  “I was trying to be. But if you don’t wish her to join us—”

  “No, no. You’re right; Spencer won’t be with us forever,” she said sweetly, slipping a glance at Conner. She was rewarded to see a black scowl flicker over his face, and she fought the urge to laugh. Your machinations are not working, are they?

  What had he hoped to accomplish by encouraging Lance to hire Alice as a maid? The girl couldn’t have the skills to perform the work. All she would do was take up another
seat in the coach and— Ah ha. Jane isn’t enough of a chaperone now that she’s ill—so now I’ve two.

  Theodora looked back at Alice, who was now patting the coach’s glazed window as if it were a puppy, her expression blissful.

  The girl would enjoy the trip, at least. Frustrated, but unable to do more, Theodora slipped her hand into the crook of Lance’s arm and smiled in what she hoped was a lovestruck way. “Shall we go, then?”

  “Of course.” Lance tipped his hat to Conner. “Enjoy your ride.”

  “Thank you.” Still scowling, Conner turned to his horse and climbed into the saddle, looking like the dashing hero of some novel, rather than the annoying man she knew him to be.

  The animal stamped its feet and shook its mane, anxious to be off.

  Conner touched his hat to Theodora. “Until dinner.” Still looking vaguely put out, he lightly touched his heels to his steed and cantered off, leaving Theodora glaring at him hard enough to drill a hole between his shoulders.

  17

  Theodora leaned her forehead against the window, hoping the cool glass might ease the headache that had grown throughout the day. Across from her, Alice was blithely chatting about all the things she hoped to see on their trip north—other inns, lakes, military men (who seemed to be great favorites with her), large pigs (really large ones, not the smallish ones she always saw in her village), fine ladies, and (inexplicably) bears. Lance hid behind a book on crop rotation, while Jane alternated between sneezing, knitting, and dozing.

  The coach, which had seemed luxuriously large before, now felt stiflingly small. Between Jane’s knitting basket, Alice’s large hatbox, Lance’s satchel of books, Theodora’s reticule, three foot warmers, and a number of coach blankets, there was little room to do more than lean against one’s assigned corner, while every bump knocked someone’s knee against someone else’s.

  Pressing her fingertips to her temples, Theodora wished she could throw open the door and jump to freedom.

  Jane sneezed again, this time followed by a long cough.

  Alice tsked. “Law, miss! You sound like the devil’s crawled into your lungs and died.”

  Jane flushed and looked miserable. “I’m sorry!”

  “Alice!” Lance said in a reproving voice. “Jane does no such thing!”

  Jane gave a wobbly smile. “It’s quite all right. I sound worse than I feel.”

  Theodora didn’t believe that for a moment, but wisely made no comment, and returned to gazing out the window. Outside the day grew darker, clouds gathering. A soft rain pattered on the coach roof, streaks of water racing down the glass. The minutes passed and Alice, her observations apparently exhausted, fell asleep in her corner, her head tilted back, her mouth wide open as she snored.

  Eyes watering, Jane tucked her kerchief into her pocket and then tugged more yarn from her basket. “It’s so dreary this afternoon. I—” Her gaze moved past Theodora and caught on something. She blinked once. Then twice. Her mouth dropped open.

  Theodora turned and there, riding outside the window, was Conner. She looked away. I will not look. I will not look. I will not—

  But she couldn’t resist. She not only looked, but she stared. The light rain beaded on Conner’s shoulders, pooled in the brim of his hat, and then splashed onto his broad shoulders, his handsome face wet, his hair clinging to his neck in a beguiling fashion.

  She scowled. Why was it that when women were drenched by rain, they merely looked soggy, while men mysteriously appeared even more attractive and powerful? The whole thing is bloody unfair. Conner tugged his hat low, the brim funneling water down the sweep of his cape, his boots shiny and wet in the stirrups. As if he could feel her gaze he turned his head, and their eyes met.

  For a breathless moment they looked at one another, and the feel of their last kiss burned Theodora’s lips anew.

  It was hard enough to travel with a man she’d once been in love with, without his looking so damnably romantic, riding in the rain, his clothes clinging to him, his blue eyes warm with—lust?

  What else could it be? He knows no other feeling where women are concerned.

  Yet her heart thudded wildly, and she found herself leaning toward the glass. Conner smiled, his intriguing eyes crinkling. The ice-blue color set in those thick, dark brown lashes was a surprise, and they burned with an intensity that made her wish for all the things that would never be.

  Conner’s teeth flashed in a grin and he winked, and she felt a tremor from her heart all the way to the bottom of her feet. She pulled away from the window. It took all of her self-control not to look outside again, but she managed. When she finally peeked sideways, he was gone.

  She leaned to the side and saw him ahead, trotting farther and farther away.

  The sight invoked a memory she’d almost forgotten. When she’d been sixteen, her horse had thrown a shoe while she’d been out riding. Leading him home, she’d been caught in a rainstorm and had sought shelter in the folly across the lake near Cumberbatch House. A “ruined” Greek temple with toppled columns, ivy-covered statues, and a raised pagoda, it had been designed for romantic summer picnics.

  Since she was so late returning, her parents had organized a search party that Conner, visiting with Derrick on a school break, had joined.

  And he’d been the one who’d thought to look in the pagoda.

  Theodora had already been half in love with him, and when she’d seen him ride up, rain-wet as he was now, her imagination had turned his shiny, wet cape into a suit of armor, and his gelding into a magnificent steed worthy of carrying a knight into battle.

  Naturally he’d had no idea of the romantic thoughts racing through her head, and had treated her like a younger sister, teasing her about hiding from dinner because she’d heard Cook was to serve parsnips, and laughingly demanding a shilling for giving her a ride home.

  For her, though, he was already the focus of all of her youthful dreams and desires. So when he’d climbed into the saddle and swept her up in front of him, covered her with his cape and taken her back to the house with his arms around her, it had been a golden moment stolen from her own romantic imagination.

  Getting ready for dinner that night, she’d floated about her room, remembering the strength of his arms, the warmth of his smile when he’d found her, as if she were the only woman for him; had pictured his declaration—oh, she’d imagined all sorts of things. And her imagination added details to the events that had happened—that his gaze had lingered on her for an unusually long time after one of the grooms had lifted her down, that he’d walked his horse very slowly on the way home as if prolonging their moment, and that he’d seemed especially happy to have been the one to find her.

  When she’d gone down to dinner, she’d breathlessly waited to see him again, thinking things would be different now—that they would be different. But he’d merely chucked her under the chin as if she were a child and said in a teasing voice, “I hope you’ve learned to take an umbrella when you ride!” He’d laughed as if he’d made a great joke and, called away by her brother to see something, made no effort to speak to her again.

  Devastated, she’d fought tears throughout dinner, her heart torn in two. As soon as she could, she’d escaped to her bedchamber where, cheeks hot and spirits low, she’d wept and paced the floor, cursing her stupidity for so childishly hoping.

  It was a lesson she needed to remember now. She was through imagining her happiness; she wanted real happiness. The kind that climbed into bed with one each and every night. The kind that stayed during the good times, the bad times, and the slow times in between. She hadn’t given up the belief that somewhere there was a man willing to be just that for her, someone she could respect and admire, someone capable of loving her as fiercely as she would love them.

  Conner disappeared from sight, and a hollowness settled into her heart as she leaned back against the squabs.

  Why must he follow us? But Thea knew why, and part of her trembled with excitement, the other in fe
ar.

  Jane tsked. “It’s too cold and wet to be outside like that. We could have offered him a seat in the coach.”

  Theodora made a vague noise in response.

  “He will take cold in that rain,” Jane fretted. “The poor man must be drenched.”

  Good. Maybe he’ll stop early at a different inn than ours.

  Jane sighed. “I do hope Mr. Douglas doesn’t take ill—”

  “He’ll be fine!” Theodora burst out.

  Jane’s eyes widened while Lance lowered his book, surprise in both their gazes.

  Her face hot, Theodora said in a defiant tone, “Conner is forever outside in all sorts of weather—he loves it. You should hear him talking of the storms he’s faced aboard ship.”

  “That’s true,” Lance mused. “The lifestyle of a privateer is indeed for the hearty—and usually the undisciplined, although Douglas does not strike me as the latter.”

  Which showed how little he knew Conner, Theodora decided, although she held her tongue on the tempting topic.

  Jane and Lance embarked upon a discussion of the effects of being outside in the weather constantly, which led them to share seemingly every illness they and their families had suffered.

  Bored, Theodora leaned back in her seat. Alice snorted in her sleep, muttering something about gooblegooks and the need for a sharp knife, a comment so disturbing to Lance that he pulled himself farther into his corner of the coach, and tucked his coat about his legs.

  Soon the coach slowed, and Theodora was relieved to see they were turning into an inn yard. “Here we are,” she said with relief, peering out the window through the heavy streaks of rain at the inn. Two stories tall, with a rambling rock façade where a pink rosebush climbed, the thatched roof was golden in color. The building sat by the road surrounded by green fields and a stand of trees.

  It was odd to see such a large establishment in the middle of a farming district, but perhaps they were close to the North Road, which was always busy this time of year.