Reluctant Escort

by Mary Nichols

  ‘Of course we must; you made sure of that,’ he said. ‘We shall have to find another way of returning you to Stacey Manor.’ He stood up unhurriedly and beckoned the landlord for the reckoning. ‘Wait for me in the yard. I will be out directly.’

  She went outside and, while waiting for him, wandered round to the stables. There was no sign of his horse, nor Jenny either; they had been spirited away. By the man with the scar? She turned as Duncan joined her. ‘Where are the horses?’

  ‘I did not like the stabling here; I have had them moved elsewhere where the fodder is better and the accommodation more to their liking.’

  There was definitely something have-cavey going on and she was more intrigued than ever. ‘Then how do we go on?’

  ‘I have hired a curricle.’ He stood looking down at her; she was completely unafraid, but that was because she had never in her life come across anything to be afraid of. He hoped she never would, but she was more astute than he had given her credit for and now he must protect her. He had commanded men in battle, been responsible for their lives, but never before had he had such an obligation as this and it was making him uncomfortable.

  His experience with women was with women of the world, who asked nothing for their favours but money or costly presents. There were female relatives, of course, and Beth, whom he had expected to marry. But Beth would never put herself into the position that Molly had done; Beth was too aware of what Society expected from her and what it was and was not permissible for a lady to do. Chasing after a man in the middle of the night would not have occurred to her.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she asked, as he escorted her back to the front of the inn, where a spanking curricle and a small brown horse were ready and waiting for them.

  ‘Norwich.’

  ‘South! Why, that is halfway to London!’

  ‘Not quite,’ he said laconically, helping her onto the vehicle and climbing up beside her. ‘But you have made it necessary for us to leave together and going north is not sensible, so Norwich it will have to be. Besides, the place is big enough for shopping and you need a change of clothes.’ He turned to look at her as he spoke.

  Her riding habit was of some dull silk material and the matching skirt was quite plain, not distinctive, except that it was unusual for a young lady to wear such a garment for riding in a carriage and the skirt was too long and cumbersome for her to walk comfortably in town. It would be noted and if, in her innocence, she let slip whatever it was she thought she knew, suspicions would be aroused. Once she was suitably attired, he could put her on the coach to Cromer, under the chaperonage of another lady passenger.

  ‘We are going shopping! Oh, Captain, how very thoughtful you are! But I have no money.’

  ‘So you have said before. My pocket is at your disposal.’ He flicked the reins and they turned out of the yard at a smart trot.

  ‘And is it a very deep pocket?’

  ‘Not at all. We must be frugal.’

  ‘But I heard Sir John had a great deal of gold…’

  ‘You think I robbed that coach for gain?’ The annoyance was plain on his face as he turned to answer her. ‘Rakeshame I may be, but I do not stoop so low as to profit from another’s loss, unless it be at the card table.’

  He had not exactly denied his involvement, she noted, only that he had not gained by it; she was more curious than ever and determined not to be sent back to Stacey Manor until she discovered the truth. ‘There are gentlemen highwaymen. I have heard of many instances where…’

  ‘And I collect you are a great reader. Romantic fiction, I’ll wager. The real world is not like that.’

  ‘No, perhaps it is not. But fiction hurts no one, does it? And if it provides a little light relief and entertainment, where’s the harm? I have my feet firmly on the ground.’

  He laughed suddenly. ‘And your head in the clouds.’

  She was silent for a moment, but only a moment. ‘What shall I be allowed to buy?’

  ‘Whatever you need for a coach ride and an overnight stay. By the time we arrive, it will be too late to go on.’ He knew perfectly well he was endangering her reputation, had in fact already compromised it, but it was her own fault; he had not asked her to provide him with an alibi. That was not to say he need not put his mind to finding ways and means of preserving her good name and he thought he might have the answer.

  ‘Mama said she would buy me a wardrobe when I went to London,’ she said rather wistfully. ‘You know you need a great many clothes for a Season. You should have seen what Mama bought. Trunks full. She showed them to me. Gowns for mornings, afternoons and evenings, for riding in carriages and walking and habits for riding, and hats and bonnets and ballgowns. She said it was absolutely essential to be well kitted out.’

  ‘Yes, ladies change their clothes a great many times a day, I believe,’ he said, watching her upturned face and sparkling eyes.

  ‘Mama’s ballgowns are all very beautiful. Of course, she is taller than I am, so they would not fit me. And she said they were unsuitable. I am not…’ She paused and treated him to her infectious laugh, which made the corners of his mouth twitch. ‘I am not as well rounded as Mama.’

  ‘No, indeed not,’ he said, thinking of the voluptuous Harriet. ‘But I think your figure is very pleasing as it is.’

  ‘Do you? Oh, that is very civil of you. I think you are the most handsome of men, even if you are lacking in chivalry.’

  ‘Am I so?’

  ‘I have been reading Don Quixote. You know he was always rescuing damsels in distress. You are not at all like him. He would never have slapped Jenny’s rump while I was unprepared for it.’

  ‘He was also more than a little touched in the attic, I collect. He thought windmills were giants.’

  ‘But it didn’t stop him wanting to fight them, big as they were. He was very brave.’

  ‘There are times, my dear, when bravery is foolhardy in the extreme. Have you never heard the saying “discretion is the better part of valour”?’

  ‘Yes, but that is a very dull maxim.’

  ‘Then I must be the dullest of men.’

  ‘Oh, I do not believe that. Why, you said yourself you are a rakeshame and you cannot be that if you are too cautious. And I am sure you are not cautious at all. I believe you thrive on risk. Look how you came back to the Red Lion and sat and ate your dinner as calm as you please. And the way you answered the constable.’

  He smiled. ‘You didn’t do so badly yourself, though I cannot think why you did it.’

  ‘I was afraid they would go up to your room and find the man with the scar. Not to mention the gold.’

  ‘Gold?’ he repeated furiously. ‘I have already told you I have no gold.’

  ‘So you have,’ she mused aloud. ‘I wonder what you can have done with it?’

  ‘Molly, you will make me very angry if you mention that again.’

  ‘Very well, have your little secret, if you must, but how am I to help you, if I do not know the truth?’

  He turned to her in astonishment. ‘Help me?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said placidly. ‘A man travelling to London with his wife is not the same as two masked men on horseback, now is it?’

  ‘London?’ he repeated. ‘Wife?’

  ‘Oh, I do not mean you to marry me, but we could pretend. Just until we reached the capital.’

  ‘I do not have to make an honest woman of you, then?’ he teased. ‘I thought in the best tradition of the lady novelists you would insist upon it.’ Talking to her made a refreshing change from the horrors which often invaded his thoughts; she was like a breath of spring air, light and joyful, the foretaste of the warmth of summer. And he had been too long in the cold.

  ‘I am not such a ninny as to want to shackle myself to a man who has no great love for me. That would spell disaster. And besides, I mean to enjoy my Season if I am so fortunate as to have one, and how can I do that if I am already married?’

  ‘How very sensible of you,’
he murmured, smiling a little.

  ‘You are laughing at me,’ she said.

  ‘No, I was thinking of your mama and what she might say when she found you on her doorstep.’

  ‘She will be very pleased to see me.’

  ‘Oh, I am sure she would.’ And this time he did not hide his smile as he added, ‘When she recovered from the shock. How are we to explain your arrival in my company? I am, after all, a rakeshame and you have no chaperon.’

  She had no idea what she was talking about, he realised. The romantic reading which had been so large a part of her education might talk of ruined reputations, but he doubted if she had any conception of what it meant in practice. ‘Have you any idea what would happen when we arrived in London and it became known you had openly admitted to spending a whole night in my company?’ he asked.

  ‘Two nights,’ she corrected him.

  ‘You would be vilified. Everyone would cut you dead. There would be no Season. Your mother would disown you. And every ne’er-do-well in the capital would take it into his head…’ He paused. ‘No, I will not go into that.’

  ‘Then you must become a reformed character, concerned only for my welfare and good name. Lady Connaught charged you with bringing me safely to my mother and you discharged that duty faithfully.’

  ‘She would never do that unless you were travelling with a female companion, a maid, who slept in your room.’

  She laughed. ‘Don’t be a goosecap, Captain; even I know maids do not sleep in the same room as a married couple.’

  ‘Not married,’ he said. ‘Being escorted, very properly escorted.’

  ‘Oh, I see. But I have no maid. Mama said it was not in the least necessary for me to have one. Her maid always helped me when I was at home, but since she sold the house…’

  ‘Sold the house?’ he queried in surprise.

  ‘Yes. The Colonel did not leave a great deal and all Mama had was a small pension. She was in debt and being dunned by everyone. She needed to realise all her assets to pay for her Season in London. It was an investment. She explained it all to me. She has rented a house in Holles Street and bought a carriage and horses. But when she has found her next husband we shall have a new home and everything we need.’

  ‘I can hardly credit it,’ he said, his fury with Harriet almost boiling over. He had always known Harriet was selfish and a gambler, but he had never thought she would treat her own daughter in such a ramshackle manner. ‘Do you mean to say you are homeless?’

  ‘I have—had—a home with Lady Connaught until Mama came about. And I suppose I could say I have a home in Holles Street. And if you are going to London…’

  ‘Who said I was?’

  ‘No one, but you are, aren’t you?’

  ‘No,’ Duncan said firmly. ‘The idea is out of the question.’

  ‘Oh, please, Captain. I will not be a trouble to you, I promise. I will be as quiet as a mouse and do as you bid…’

  ‘Impossible,’ he said. ‘I am ready to wager you could not keep quiet however hard you tried; I never heard such a chatterbox. And as for doing as you are told, give me leave to doubt that too.’

  ‘Then I shall not promise it, only that I will try my best.’ She turned a smile on him that made his heart turn over and almost took his breath away. ‘I cannot say fairer than that, can I?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted.

  ‘Then you will take me?’

  ‘I cannot.’ The further they went from Stacey Manor, the more difficult it would be for him to return Molly to his grandmother, but the young chit had been right when she said a husband and wife would attract less attention. They were still too near the scene of the action. But it was impossible. Out of the question. He had not yet stooped so low as to ruin a young lady’s reputation.

  She was silent for a moment, but only a moment. ‘Have you been in London during the Season, Captain?’

  ‘Many years ago, before I became a soldier.’

  ‘And did you not find the lady of your dreams there?’

  ‘I thought so at the time, but nothing came of it.’

  ‘Oh, you were crossed in love. How sad for you. Is that why you have become a gentleman of the road?’

  He laughed again but this time she detected a little bitterness in it. ‘I have admitted to being no such thing. Now do you think we might change the subject?’

  ‘Certainly, if you find it painful. Tell me, what do young ladies do during the Season? I have read some of Miss Austen’s books and others on etiquette and it seems to me there are a great many pitfalls. How do they know who is eligible and who is not? So much of it seems to rely on hearsay. Surely one needs more than that? After all, everyone must have a different idea about what makes a perfect partner. And how can mere acquaintanceship turn to love if you are never allowed to be alone with a man even for a minute? After all, he might seem very charming and unexceptional when in company, but turn out to be the very opposite when it is too late.’

  ‘That happens.’

  ‘And once she is committed she must make the best of it, I believe.’

  ‘That is another of your mama’s truisms, is it?’

  ‘Is it wrong?’

  ‘No. But courtship works two ways. The lady might not turn out to be all the young man had hoped for. A pretty face and a fetching figure are not the only attributes for a good wife.’

  ‘So, tell me what you think they are.’

  He turned to smile at her. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Love and compassion,’ she said promptly. ‘Gentleness, but not so much as to make her dull.’

  ‘Oh, you are so right,’ he said, only half teasing. ‘I should abhor dullness in a wife.’

  ‘I should not like a dull husband either. Not top-lofty or arrogant. I would expect him to be sensitive and kind.’ She paused to look at him, a smile playing about her lips. ‘And chivalrous.’

  ‘Oh, dear,’ he said mournfully. ‘I should fail on all counts.’

  ‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of you, Captain. You are far too old.’

  ‘And that has put me firmly in my place,’ he said, smiling a little ruefully as he flicked the reins to make the horse go a little faster. ‘There is an inn ahead of us which I should like to reach as soon as maybe. And for your information I have seen but thirty summers.’

  ‘Old,’ she affirmed. ‘But perhaps that is no bad thing. One would expect a man of thirty summers to have sowed all his wild oats and be ready to settle down.’

  ‘The problem with that theory is that some men never want to settle down. Sowing wild oats is a deal more fun.’

  ‘As ye sow, so shall ye reap,’ she said.

  ‘And what is that supposed to mean?’

  ‘You will have a poor harvest.’

  ‘Quite the philosopher, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, but I am interested in people and why they do the things they do. You, for instance…’

  ‘I am a dull subject for your studies.’

  ‘Not at all. You may be from the poor side of the Connaught family, but I believe you have been educated as a gentleman, you have served as an officer and you have a grandmother who is very fond of you, so you cannot be all bad. With a little instruction and application, you could become a real gentleman and find some more fitting occupation.’

  ‘Heaven preserve me from reforming women! I am as I am and that is an end of it.’

  ‘Very well,’ she said meekly. ‘I am, after all, in your hands to do with as you please. I have no wish to fall out with you.’

  He smiled to himself as they bowled along. She was an amazing mixture of innocence and wisdom, child and woman, and one day, when she had learned the ways of the world, she would be a charmer, even a heartbreaker. And he did not want his heart broken again.

  Unaware of his introspection, or perhaps deliberately ignoring it, she continued to chat happily to him until they turned into the yard of the Crosskeys at St Faith’s just short of Norwich, and drew to a stop.

  �
��Well,’ she said, turning towards him. ‘Are we to test my theory?’

  ‘Theory?’ he queried. ‘It seems to me you have a great many theories. Which one are we to test?’

  ‘Why, that it is Captain Stacey and his wife who will stay here overnight.’

  ‘Good God, child, have you any idea what that means?’

  ‘I believe it means we must share a bedchamber.’

  ‘And what happens in that bedchamber?’

  ‘How am I to know that?’ she asked. ‘I never did it before. But it doesn’t signify, does it, because we are not really married but only pretending?’

  ‘And if there is only one bed?’

  ‘Oh, Captain, I am quite sure you can contrive something.’

  Before he could find a suitable reply an ostler came out from the stables to see to the equipage. Duncan jumped down and reached up to help her alight. ‘Come inside and we will decide what’s to be done with you,’ he said.

  The inn was small and very old. Duncan had to duck his head to enter the doorway. He stood looking round the company, which consisted of a farmer and his wife who were quarrelling loudly, and four men, intent on playing cards. They were evidently playing very deep for there was a pile of coins on the table between them and their conversation consisted of grunts, unintelligible except to each other. The only other customer was the man with the scar. Duncan led Molly over to join him.

  “Bout time too,’ the man said. ‘Did you stop to admire the wayside flowers?’

  ‘No, but I had to answer questions from a bumbling town constable and I could not appear too eager to depart.’

  ‘And you still have the trailing petticoats, I see.’

  Duncan turned to Molly and took her hand to draw her forward. ‘Miss Martineau, may I present my good friend, Sergeant Frank Upjohn? Frank, this is Miss Molly Martineau. We have spoken of her.’

  ‘Miss Martineau, your obedient.’ He did not seem particularly pleased to see her, she noted as he rose to acknowledge her.

  The innkeeper came forward, wiping his hands on his apron, to ask their requirements.