Reluctant Escort

by Mary Nichols

  Duncan, forced into a corner, could do nothing but comply. Andrew accepted with alacrity.

  ‘Let me present my cousin, Mr George Lampson, Miss Martineau.’

  ‘Mr Lampson.’ She bowed towards the black-suited man as he took his place at the table. ‘This is Mrs Upjohn and her husband, Mr Frank Upjohn—my friends and travelling companions.’

  ‘Mr Upjohn I have already met,’ Andrew said, seating himself next to Molly, to Duncan’s annoyance. ‘Mrs Upjohn, it is my pleasure.’

  Martha did no more than incline her head and Molly gained the distinct impression that she did not like the newcomers. Nor, she realised, did Duncan, which was very strange when Mr Bellamy had been so generous to them. Forgetting all Martha’s advice to be more restrained, she set about redressing what she perceived as a slight.

  For the rest of the meal, Molly’s happy chatter and Bellamy’s amused responses drove Duncan into silence. Occasionally he made a low comment when appealed to but most of the time he watched and seethed. He would not admit that the little green god was sitting on his shoulder.

  ‘We are going to London for the Season,’ Molly told Andrew. ‘I am so looking forward to it.’

  ‘The Season?’ Andrew queried in surprise. ‘But it is half over.’ He looked at Duncan. ‘I am surprised, Stacey, that you did not set out earlier.’

  ‘Oh, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision,’ Molly explained before Duncan could reply. ‘But I shall soon catch up.’

  Andrew smiled broadly. ‘Oh, I do not doubt you will. Just when everyone is becoming fatigued and bored by it all, you will arrive and stir them into life again.’ He paused, looking from her to Duncan. ‘But I am puzzled. Stacey is no more than a soldier; he has no entry into the haut monde, so who will sponsor you?’

  Duncan knew very well what the man was thinking. Molly was not a real lady and must belong on the fringes of Society; no self-respecting unmarried young lady would be travelling in such a fashion with a couple of ex-soldiers and a woman of no importance long after most of them were already in town. She was probably what was euphemistically called a ‘little bit of muslin’ and therefore fair game.

  ‘Look here, Bellamy,’ he began angrily. ‘If you think…’

  ‘Doesn’t matter what I think,’ Andrew put in. ‘It’s what the world thinks.’

  ‘The world can go hang.’

  ‘Dear me, so defensive! I assure you it is not in the least necessary. I understand.’

  ‘It is more than I do,’ Molly said.

  ‘He is using you,’ Andrew said, answering her and nodding towards Duncan. ‘He is using you to gain entry into London’s drawing rooms. But he will find it will take more than a pretty little nobody to accomplish that.’

  ‘Oh, that is unfair!’ Molly cried. ‘He did not want to take me. I insisted. And besides, he is only my escort. I am going to stay with my mama. I do not need a sponsor.’

  He bowed. ‘Then I beg your pardon.’ But he did not look in the least repentant. ‘But if you are on your way to London, why delay your journey to go to the races?’

  ‘Because I wanted to see the horses,’ she said. ‘And Captain Stacey was kind enough to agree. I was vastly amused. Do you know, I won several guineas?’

  ‘Beginner’s luck,’ Duncan put in. ‘A freak result.’

  ‘Is that so? Or is the little lady a better judge of horseflesh than you are?’

  ‘It was Brancaster’s Bright Belle,’ she told him.

  He smiled knowingly. ‘What made you choose that one?’

  ‘She liked the filly’s eyes,’ Duncan said laconically. ‘And who was I to argue with a lady?’

  ‘You said she might as well have only three legs,’ Molly reminded him. ‘It is not my fault if I won and you lost.’

  ‘Oh, I did not lose.’

  ‘You backed her to win?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Her laughter pealed out, making one or two of the other guests look round to see the source of the amusement. They saw a lively young lady in the company of four very different young men, chaperoned by a drab woman who looked decidedly uncomfortable. If she had been their daughter she would have been locked in her room for her own safety, not let out to frequent coaching inns.

  ‘How ironic!’ she said. ‘You expected to lose and you still backed her. Why?’

  He shrugged. He did not know why. ‘Sometimes you have to back your hunches. It felt like a lucky day. Mr Bellamy understands that.’ He appealed to the young man. ‘Is that not so?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. And I backed her too, but it wasn’t a lucky hunch; the filly belongs to my father and I have seen what she can do, if stretched.’

  Molly clapped her hands. ‘Then this is a celebration. Everyone is happy.’

  Andrew grinned and Frank smiled and even Martha’s lips twitched at her pleasure. Only Duncan seemed downcast. She could not understand it, but she did not mean to let it spoil her evening.

  ‘Do you live hereabouts, Mr Bellamy?’ she asked.

  ‘No. My father’s country home is in Huntingdonshire,’ he said. ‘I have lately been visiting there.’

  ‘On a repairing lease, no doubt,’ Duncan murmured.

  Andrew threw him a look of pure venom. ‘Unlike some, I have no need to flee the capital. I am never out of funds.’ He smiled at Molly. ‘I think you have not chosen your company wisely, Miss Martineau. Allow me to take over and escort you to the capital.’

  Molly heard Duncan’s quick intake of breath but he did not speak. She smiled at Mr Bellamy. ‘I thank you, sir, but I am quite content with the escort I have. My godmother has entrusted Captain Stacey to take care of me and deliver me safely to my mama.’ She paused and added, ‘Besides, the Captain has your coach.’

  Duncan, who had a glass of wine to his lips and was about to sip from it, spluttered into it, choking.

  She looked from him to Andrew Bellamy who had lost his urbane smile and was glaring at Duncan, and decided it would be better to change the subject quickly. If the Captain had obtained the coach by deception…‘I do thank you, sir,’ she said, pretending she had not noticed. ‘Perhaps when I am settled in Holles Street we shall meet again. My mama no doubt will be taking me to all the right places.’ She stood up and the men scrambled to their feet. ‘Now, if you do not mind, I shall retire.’

  She accepted their bows and murmured goodnights with what she hoped was cool aplomb and left the room, followed by Martha.

  ‘Enchanting,’ Andrew murmured to her departing back. ‘Quite, quite enchanting.’

  ‘And out of reach,’ Duncan growled. ‘Keep your grubby hands off her.’

  ‘Grubby?’ he queried, displaying perfectly manicured hands for inspection. ‘Is it not a question of the pot calling the kettle black? What is your interest in her? Mama one of the ton, is she? No, that is not possible; no mother worthy of the name would have sent her off to London with a discharged soldier for an escort and without a conveyance, and little in the way of baggage.’ He surveyed Duncan’s thunderous face and smiled knowingly. ‘You know, I do believe you are bamming her into believing you are taking her to her mama. You are not, are you?’ He paused. ‘Unless that air of innocence is all a sham and she knows exactly what she is doing.’

  Duncan’s fist caught him full on the jaw and he toppled sideways, taking the tablecloth and the contents of the table with him.

  There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone in the room and then pandemonium as everyone crowded round. Andrew scrambled to his feet, wiping blood from his cut lip, and faced a furious Duncan, who stood with his feet apart and his hands clenched at his sides, ready to raise them should Bellamy attempt to retaliate.

  ‘You have given yourself away, Stacey,’ Bellamy said. ‘No true gentlemen would resort to fisticuffs.’ His emphasis on the word ‘gentleman’ conveyed his contempt.

  ‘The Captain is a gentleman,’ Frank put in, while everyone else in the room stood agog with curiosity. ‘He is a Stacey.’

  ‘So he i
s, though not one the family acknowledges. I am persuaded the connection is so remote as to be disregarded.’

  Frank opened his mouth to speak again, but Duncan put a hand on his arm. ‘Leave it, Frank. If our friend chooses to use my lack of breeding as an excuse not to challenge me, then let him. I have no wish to hurt him.’

  That was too much for Bellamy to swallow. ‘You will hear from my representatives, Stacey.’

  ‘After we reach London and I have seen Miss Martineau safely reunited with her mother, I shall be delighted to oblige,’ Duncan said, still angry, but fully aware that he could not take the risk of duelling with Bellamy while he was responsible for Molly. ‘Come on, Frank; the company here is not to my liking.’ And with that he walked from the room, followed by the sergeant. The spectators murmured among themselves and then, realising nothing more exciting was going to happen, dispersed.

  Molly lay in her bed looking up at the ceiling, her head too full of images to sleep. It was less than a week since she had first set off after the Captain and inveigled him into being her escort and so much had happened it seemed like a lifetime.

  It was an adventure of the first magnitude: coaches being held up by highwaymen; shopping and sightseeing; betting on the horseraces; pickpockets and Mr Bellamy joining them for supper. He was a real gentleman, handsome, well-dressed, polite, so why didn’t the Captain like him? He had been as prickly as a hedgehog all evening. He was a strange man, was the Captain. One minute he was laughing and being the best companion in the world, the next he was growling and getting on his high horse over some little thing of no significance.

  She was afraid it was her behaviour that brought on these strange moods, but as she didn’t know how else to behave she could not do anything about it. She was still pondering on this when she heard a crash coming from downstairs and then a babble of voices. Curious, she crept from her bed and opened her door a crack to listen. There was silence. And then she saw Duncan and Frank come out of the dining room and begin to climb the stairs. Neither looked very pleased with life. ‘What happened?’ she asked. ‘I heard a crash.’

  ‘Nothing to worry about,’ he said. ‘I fell against a table. Very clumsy of me.’

  Why did she think he was lying? ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ They had reached the landing and Frank gave her a nod and continued on to his own room. Duncan stopped and looked down at her. She was looking especially lovely with her hair flowing about her shoulders and the wrap she had put on over her nightgown falling open. He could see the outline of her firm young breasts and felt his loins stir uncontrollably. ‘It is very late and we have a long day tomorrow. Go back to bed.’ With an effort he resisted the temptation to kiss her. ‘Goodnight, my dear.’

  She bade him goodnight and watched from the doorway as he went along the corridor to his own room. He walked with a heavy tread, his head bowed, as if he was exhausted, and she supposed he was. He had all the responsibility of their journey on his shoulders and she had not made it easy for him. They were nearing their destination and he would be free of her; she was very sure he would not remain in London once his escort duty had been fulfilled; he would be off on the open road again, footloose and free of all encumbrances. And she would miss him.

  No one could be so gallant one minute, so uncivil the next, so handsome and valiant and yet so infuriatingly condescending. Sometimes she longed to beat her fists upon his broad chest, to wipe the smile from his face with angry protests that he should see her for what she was, a young lady with sensibilities, not a child to be scolded or indulged as the fancy took him.

  It just proved how far apart they were, not only in age, but in temperament. And though she had seen flashes of humour and light-heartedness he was, for the most part, a serious-minded man who did not suffer fools gladly. And she had been a fool. She had made it impossible for him to refuse her request for an escort without giving a thought about how inconvenient it might be for him. Was it possible to be more empty-headed? It was time she grew up. She fell asleep, promising herself she would try to be more understanding.

  Chapter Seven

  Molly was woken by Martha long before dawn. ‘Dress quickly. The Captain is leaving as soon as it is light enough,’ she said.

  She dressed in her green carriage dress and set a feather-trimmed bonnet on her fair curls then hurried downstairs to find the others already there. Duncan looked grim and she realised that he was in no mood for her banter. She ate her breakfast quickly and then they went out to the coach, which was in the yard ready and waiting for them.

  This time Caesar was roped on behind with the other horses and Duncan sat in the coach with Molly, while Martha climbed up beside her husband. It wasn’t long before Molly realised that they were going at a cracking pace, much faster than on any previous days when Duncan had been careful not to overtire the horses.

  After several minutes of being thrown about quite violently as the vehicle swayed from side to side, she turned to look at him, but he was staring straight out of the other window as if he could not bear to look at her. She was puzzled. Even when he was angry with her, he had never ignored her like this. What had she done?

  ‘I am not at all flattered that you are in such haste to be rid of me that you will risk the horses in this fashion,’ she said.

  He was still smouldering over his confrontation with Andrew Bellamy. Never in all his life had he backed down from a fight. Bellamy would undoubtedly spread the word that he was a coward and had refused to meet him. That would hurt more than any physical pain. He was so tense, he could feel the muscles in his jaw twitching and his hand was gripping the leather strap on the door as if his life depended on it. Her voice only served to exacerbate his feelings of frustration.

  ‘On the contrary,’ he said, tight-lipped. ‘You should be pleased that I am doing it for your sake.’

  ‘It is not for my sake.’ She rounded on him. ‘You have some deep game of your own.’

  ‘If I have it is one that you started, riding off after a man at dead of night like some common camp follower.’ He did not know why he said it; it was cruel and untrue. What was the matter with him? Had he been so long out of feminine society he did not know how to treat a lady?

  The pain in her expressive blue eyes and the way she shuddered told him clearly he had hurt her and he cursed himself for a fool. It was the unaccustomed responsibility for someone so vulnerable, his own ramshackle way of life which he had realised could not go on that had put the words into his mouth. And his pride. He had no cause to be proud. He reached out and laid a hand on hers. ‘I am sorry, Molly. I did not mean that.’

  She pulled herself away from him, curling up in the corner of the carriage like a wounded animal. ‘Yes, you did. You have been saying so all along. And it is my fault, for I insisted on you taking me to London. Now I wish I never had. I am such a mopstraw and so ignorant, I am persuaded I should make a dreadful cake of myself in Society. It is no wonder Mama did not want me with her.’

  ‘Humbug!’

  She turned to look at him, puzzled by the expletive, but before either of them could speak again they heard galloping hooves and shouts and two riders suddenly appeared from nowhere and rode into the road in front of them. Frank was forced to pull the coach to a halt.

  Moments later, a rider appeared at the door and, leaning down, opened it, pointing a pistol at them. ‘Out! Get out!’

  Molly gasped. The man was masked and wore a black riding cape. Silently Duncan got out and turned to hand Molly down. Neither spoke.

  ‘Over there.’ The man jerked his head to the side of the road. The other man had his pistol trained on Frank and Martha who sat on the box, perfectly still.

  Molly looked at Duncan but all he did was nod. She stepped to one side and he followed her.

  ‘Your money and your jewels,’ the man demanded.

  Molly found her voice. ‘I have none.’

  ‘Do you take me for a flat? Come on, hand them over or…’


  ‘She is telling the truth,’ Duncan said, realising that the men were probably ex-soldiers and not professional criminals. ‘I have but lately taken her up. She is nothing, a nobody…’ He ignored Molly’s gasp. ‘A ladybird not worth risking a hanging for.’

  ‘No? Then perhaps you are, my lord. Turn out your pockets, if you please.’

  Duncan complied, pulling out a purse containing a few coins and his watch.

  ‘I hope you don’t mean to persuade me that’s all you have.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Lord Brancaster is known for being high in the stirrups, and he wouldn’t stint his son and heir.’

  Molly stole a sideways glance at Duncan but his expression was inscrutable.

  ‘It is also known that his heir is a gambler,’ he drawled. ‘At this moment, he has pockets to let.’

  The man received this news with incredulity. He bade his companion to keep them all covered and proceeded to pull the trunk and other baggage from the boot, which he emptied out all over the road. Molly watched in horror as all her lovely clothes were scattered in the dust. ‘I told you so,’ Duncan said when this search revealed nothing.

  The man did not reply but turned to the interior of the coach and pulled out all the squabs, peered under the seats and behind the back-rest, even examined the roof. Nothing in the way of money or jewels was discovered. He forced Frank and Martha down from their perch at gunpoint and subjected them to a humiliating search.

  ‘Now you,’ he said, advancing on Molly.

  ‘Please,’ Molly pleaded. ‘I give you my word I have no valuables. His lordship spoke the truth. He picked me up.’ She smiled. ‘And you are known for a chivalrous man…’

  ‘Am I?’

  ‘You are the Dark Knight, are you not? It is said he never robs ladies.’

  The man looked at Molly and laughed. ‘Then they say wrong, don’t they?’ He reached out to pull Molly forward.

  ‘No, you don’t.’ Duncan stepped in front of her. ‘You lay a finger on her and…’