The Lady Is Daring

by Megan Frampton

  “Yes,” he replied. “My brother Alexander—”

  “I know who your brother is, my lord,” she interrupted. As though he were an idiot. He wanted to grin at how dismissive she sounded. “He is my brother-in-law as well. Actually, he is more my brother-in-law than you are. You are the brother to my brother-in-law, so I don’t believe saying you are my brother-in-law is at all correct.”

  “So what are we then?” he asked. Wondering how Lady Ida—whom he was quickly beginning to think of as a prickly hedgehog—would respond.

  “We are acquaintances who happen to share some connections.” She paused. “And we happen to, through extraordinary circumstances, appear to be traveling together for the moment.”

  “About that,” Bennett began, “how did you come to borrow Mr. Beechcroft’s carriage?” he asked, stressing the word borrow. “And where are you going?”

  “I will answer your questions when you have answered mine,” she said, nodding toward him. “I saw a sign right before you started thumping—”

  “I was not thumping, I was knocking to get your attention. Hedgehog,” he muttered, unable to keep himself from saying the word. She was all prickly, but attractive, and definitely impossible to ignore, once you’d seen her. Plus, she tended to assume a defensive protective posture whenever someone seemed like they were getting too close.

  “Knocking, thumping, whatever you wish to call it.” She waved her hand in the air in dismissal. “That is not the point. The point is I saw a sign right before you made your presence known, and it indicated that there was a town in another seven miles or so. We will have to make conversation, especially since you seem so determined to ask questions. And don’t think I didn’t notice you referred to me as a hedgehog,” she said, hurriedly, as though she didn’t want to admit he’d even uttered the word. “We will eschew nicknames, if you please,” she said firmly. “So if you answer my questions—which, I will point out, I asked first—then I will answer yours. And then we should be at the village.”

  “And then what?” So prickly. How had he never noticed her before yesterday? He’d known who she was, of course, but had never paid her much mind. She was just sort of there, hovering near her sisters, like a storm cloud thundering out lectures.

  “Another question, my lord?” Her tone was reproving. “Mine first, if you please.”

  He grinned at how bossy she sounded. Hedgehog.

  “My father is urging me to marry,” he began after a moment of thought. He wouldn’t insult her by prevaricating. “And there are several young ladies who wish the same for me. Alex calls them Carson-hunters.”

  She snorted again, this time lifting a hand to her mouth to smother the noise. “Carson-hunters. Armed with debutante lace and batting of lashes to conquer their prey?”

  Bennett laughed. “Exactly. Instead of arrows they’ve got dainty feet and fluttering fans and doting fathers.”

  “I have to say I have an image of you scampering away from a phalanx of determined ladies wearing white.”

  “You wear white,” he pointed out.

  “But the difference is that I do not like it.”

  “And I do not scamper,” Bennett said with a grin.

  “Nor do you thump.” He could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “Duly noted, my lord. And none of these ladies suit you? You must be very particular.”

  “I’m not!” he retorted, wondering just how they came to be having such a ridiculous conversation.

  Oh, of course. She’d asked him things, he’d asked her, and he’d seemed amenable to answering her questions if she’d answer his.

  “What do you wish for in a wife, then? I know it wasn’t either one of my sisters, so apparently you do not want an intelligent, witty, charming partner.” Her tone was mischievous, and he opened his mouth to reply, but realized he couldn’t—not without insulting her sisters, himself, or her.

  This hedgehog was far too prickly and intelligent to spar with. But she remained fascinating to him—when was the last time he was this engaged in a conversation?

  “When I get married,” he said, “which I will do, eventually—I want someone who is soft and gentle. Someone who will welcome me home at the end of a long day.”

  “You’ve just described either a fuzzy blanket or a pet, my lord.”

  He couldn’t help but burst into laughter, and she joined him, both grinning at one another as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

  He had never laughed with a lady like this before. He’d only ever laughed this hard with Edward, in fact. And Edward wasn’t a stunningly beautiful hedgehog on some crazy adventure in a stolen carriage.

  Chapter 6

  Do not mistake adventure for risk.

  Lady Ida’s Tips for the Adventurous Lady Traveler

  “So you sought refuge in Mr. Beechcroft’s carriage?”

  His mouth twisted into an embarrassed grin. “I hadn’t intended it to be a permanent solution. I had—I had a bit to drink, since Edward was in town.”

  “He is most definitely my brother-in-law also.”

  He arched a brow. “Touché, my lady hedgehog.”

  “I am not a hedgehog.”

  “Prickly.”

  Hmph.

  “I’ve answered your questions,” he said after a few moments. “Now you have to tell me. Where are you going?”

  “I’m trying to find my sister.”

  “Ah,” he said in an understanding tone as he realized to whom she was referring. “Your sister who—?” He paused delicately.

  “Yes. Della.” Ida hadn’t spoken her name to anyone who wasn’t related to her in so long. It felt odd to say it aloud.

  “I didn’t realize you didn’t know where she was.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I should have.”

  Ida shrugged, as though it didn’t matter, when of course it did. “There’s no reason you should have. It is not as though we discuss it even in the family.” Because neither the duke nor duchess would allow Della’s name to be spoken at home, so the sisters had grown accustomed to making oblique references to her, even when they were not at home.

  “Most people didn’t spare a thought about her,” she continued, “or where she’d gone. The only thing they wanted to talk about was how it would affect the rest of her sisters.”

  “And how has it affected you?”

  He was sensitive enough to ask. To ask how she felt, how this cataclysmic event had affected her. That touched her.

  Even though she could not wait to be rid of him.

  Sophocles would definitely be baffled by this lapse of logic.

  “Besides having everyone in Society think all the duke’s daughters are bound to be disgraceful?” She pondered. “Not that they’re wrong, though Pearl and I have yet to do anything too scandalous.”

  “Of course, since stealing a carriage and heading off for parts unknown all by oneself is entirely within bounds.” His tone was dry.

  She just barely suppressed yet another snort. Good work, Ida. At this rate he’ll think you’re a rare sort of pig. Porcus Idatus.

  “I meant until today,” Ida replied, rolling her eyes. “But the thing is, I found out where Della is living, and I am going to get her.”

  “Won’t her husband have something to say about that?”

  “Della never did marry that Mr. Baxter.” Silence as he absorbed that bit of gossip. Gossip that apparently hadn’t reached his ears. “And it’s a good thing they didn’t marry, since we discovered what a blackguard he was after they eloped.”

  “Because of the eloping, one assumes,” he said in that same dry tone. He folded his arms over his chest, completely at ease. Once again revealing just how comfortable he was at all times.

  She laughed at his comment. He had a delightful sense of humor when he wasn’t asking intrusive questions. And sometimes even then. “Not just that, although of course that was the impetus for us finding all about Mr. Baxter’s checkered past.”

  If she had been in charge
of hiring tutors, she would have discovered all of this before the man even entered the house. But the duchess saw a handsome man who was light on his feet and let him in the house to teach her daughters how to dance. As far as Ida knew, he hadn’t even had to show his letters of recommendation.

  “What did Mr. Baxter do?”

  Ida shook her head at the memory of all they’d come to learn about him. “He stole a few of mother’s jewels, then managed to pin the blame on one of our scullery maids. She came very close to losing her position, of course, but she denied taking them. I believed her, and I persuaded my mother to give her a second chance.”

  “How did you discover the truth?”

  “It was only after he and Della had left. We found receipts for the stolen items, items he pawned in order to make their escape.”

  “And by then it was too late.”

  “The worst part of it was he really was not a good dancer!” she added scornfully. “Even I could tell that, and I do not dance.”

  “You have not danced with me.” His tone was commanding, as though he knew—absolutely knew—she would enjoy dancing with him.

  And that commanding tone made her know that too. As if she hadn’t already imagined it.

  A fact that both irked and intrigued her. As he did.

  “We’ll be going our separate ways soon, my lord,” she said, slowing the carriage as they made their way into the small town. “I will have to let you return to evading the Carson-hunters.”

  “You know I can’t let you go on your own.”

  “I know that,” she replied. “Of course I know that. Just as I know that I must continue by myself.” She stopped the carriage, glancing about at the buildings that surrounded them. “I see one inn there. If there isn’t another we can go in separately.”

  She was impossible. “Do you have any money?”

  She made another one of those noises. “Of course I do. Do you think I’d run off without any kind of funds?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” Bennett replied. “Since you’re foolish enough to believe you can just walk into an inn and hire a room without notice.”

  “I am wearing my library clothing,” she said, as though that were an actual thing, “and nobody will look twice at me if I pull my hood down and pay in cash. If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I am a governess traveling for my next assignment.”

  It wasn’t a terrible idea, and he had a moment of admiration that she’d thought it through.

  A thought struck him. “I don’t see any luggage. So you have money, but you didn’t pack any items for travel?”

  She frowned as she considered it. “I did not. I came rather suddenly.”

  Even more impossible. “And just what is ‘library clothing’?” he asked.

  She made a noise indicating it was a foolish question. Even though of course it wasn’t. Since he was asking it. “It is clothing I wear to the library. Clothing meant for comfort, and study, and long hours in a chair.” She smoothed her hand down her arm. “You cannot see it, but this gown is in a very serviceable color. Definitely not white.”

  Baffling. “What is a serviceable color?”

  She heaved an exasperated sigh. “A serviceable color, Mr. Brummell, is a color that holds up to use. Drab colors. My gown, for example, is gray. Library clothing.”

  He agreed that she would be less noticeable in her chosen garb, but his leaving her, no matter what kind of disguise she’d done herself up in, would still mean she was left vulnerable, alone to any kind of danger.

  And she was a duke’s daughter; she wouldn’t have the first idea about what could happen to a young lady traveling alone. No matter how she’d created this idea of a set of clothing that could render her invisible to possible attackers.

  Drab garb would not save her.

  Bennett knew he wanted to run from responsibility—hence the drinking and the hiding out in his club—but he could not run from this particular duty.

  Nor did he wish to; he wanted to accompany Ida on her adventure, her escape, even though he would be participating by proxy. Eventually he would have to return home and resume being the dutiful son, looking back on this moment with no small amount of wonder that he’d been able to be free for even this short a period of time.

  “You’re not going into that inn on your own,” he said. He dismounted from the carriage and held his arms out to her so she could descend safely. “If you refuse to accept my assistance, I’ll march behind you and announce just who you are and what you are doing. The news will reach London probably faster even than Mr. Beechcroft’s fine horses can travel.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” She glared at him from the carriage. “Then we would be forced into marriage, and you know full well I am neither soft nor welcoming. I am not the wife you want. You would not.”

  “I would. Come down,” he said, gesturing to her. Would she call his bluff?

  She didn’t reply, but lifted one foot down, sliding into his arms, stiff and angry. Whew.

  Not welcoming, perhaps, but definitely soft. Hardly the prickles he’d been expecting. Oh. Well then. His cravat suddenly felt tight around his neck.

  She stepped away from him as soon as her feet touched the ground, adjusting her cloak so it completely hid her gown and most of her face.

  “Since you refuse to listen to sense, what will we say?” She lifted her eyebrow and looked him up and down. “You cannot be a governess as well.” Her eyes widened. “And we cannot pose as a married couple.” She sounded so horrified by the idea that he had to laugh.

  He held his hands up in surrender. “I understand, Lady Ida. You do not wish to marry me, even as a ruse. I have to say, my ego is taking a substantial blow this evening.” Bennett accompanied his words with a chuckle, and she gave a tentative smile in response.

  He was surprised by how relieved he was that she was apparently not one to hold a grudge. Even if she was vehemently opposed to a marital subterfuge. “We can be brother and sister, and our servants are delayed by a broken wheel or something.”

  “Very clever,” she said admiringly, and he bowed in acknowledgement of the compliment.

  “Are you looking for a room?” a woman’s voice called as they walked toward the inn. A worn sign proclaiming it to be The Goose’s Egg swung back and forth in front of the door.

  “Yes, we are. Two rooms,” Bennett clarified.

  “Well, we have them. Not adjoining, though.” The innkeeper stepped forward, peering at them from a broad, friendly face. She wore an apron over a gown in what appeared to be a serviceable color.

  “That is fine,” Lady Ida said quickly. Likely hatching a plan to escape when he wasn’t paying attention. As though he would be so easily duped.

  “You’ll want something to eat.” It wasn’t a question. She turned to the door and swung it wide, poking her head in. “Eustace! Come out here.”

  Bennett took Ida’s arm and looped it through his, walking her inside.

  The inn was bustling, surprising given the late hour.

  Eustace, presumably, emerged from the kitchen and nodded to the innkeeper and to Bennett and Ida. He was tall and broad, an apron on over his clothing, his cheeks flushed. “Bags are in the back?” he said in a broad country accent.

  “Actually, we don’t have any, our servants—” he began, but Eustace was already out of earshot.

  “Just put the carriage away,” Eustace’s mother called. “And feed the horses.

  “Sit down over there. Clark, clear out,” the innkeeper said, shooing a man from one of the far tables.

  He picked up his glass and went and joined another group who were clearly celebrating something.

  “We just had a wedding,” the innkeeper explained. “And the guests don’t want to stop the party tonight. Good for business. Hope you can sleep through the ruckus.”

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine,” Bennett said, helping Ida into her seat. The small round wooden table was pitted with evidence of its use, but the innkeeper brought a lantern
over and placed it in the center, the light casting a warm, golden glow.

  “I’m Mrs. Hastings, I own this place. I’ll bring you two slices of my meat pie, the best in the village, and two ales, unless you want something else? Not that we have anything else but some hard cheese and bread.”

  “Meat pie sounds heavenly,” Ida said. “Thank you.”

  Her words were accompanied by a low, distinctive growl, and Bennett tried not to laugh as she clutched her stomach.

  Mrs. Hastings nodded as she took herself back to the kitchen, which was when Bennett noticed the nearby group was staring at them.

  “A round of ale for the wedding guests, too,” he called out to the innkeeper’s retreating back. The group cheered, and returned their attention to themselves, as he’d wanted.

  “Very clever of you,” Ida remarked in that low, smoky voice of hers. “Though perhaps I should return the question—do you have funds? I am not paying for your largesse,” she said tartly.

  He ignored her question. He had no idea how much she had in her possession, and he didn’t want her to get any ideas about taking his. She’d stolen a carriage, after all. What was to prevent her from taking his money?

  “Well, if you spend as much time as I do with people, people of all types, you learn how to handle them.”

  She leaned back, her eyebrow raised. “That sounds awfully condescending of you.”

  Bennett opened his mouth to deny what she was saying, then took a moment to think. Damn it. She was right.

  “I apologize,” he said in a low tone. “It sounds worse than I meant it, but of course that doesn’t matter. I like to believe I can find something in common with anyone, no matter how different we might seem on the outside.”

  “What do you suppose we have in common, then?” she asked, her expression curious. And not just pretending to be interested—he’d seen enough of the Carson-hunters’ expressions to be able to tell when someone was truly interested. She was.

  He felt more than a flicker of interest in her himself.

  “Well,” he began, “I suppose we have the urge to cast off our proscribed roles in search of adventure.”