by Robyn Carr
She winced slightly at his harsh, parental tone, but she was still more willing to be berated by a stranger than by her father, brother, or maid. She lifted her chin a bit. “Of course I should not be out alone, unescorted, which is my only excuse for my reckless speed. I see my error quite clearly now.” She looked at his coach, noticing the lack of a blazon or displayed arms of an English family. There was a handsome dark riding horse tethered to the rear, and atop the coach there were traveling bags tied. She hoped he was just passing through. “I apologize for my carelessness. If there is any damage, I have a little money.”
His white teeth gleamed in the dark as he smiled. “Well, now, I can hardly scold you any longer when you so willingly accept responsibility. I suppose you should sit down for a moment, to collect yourself. You shouldn’t venture on to your assignation in such a flustered state of mind.”
She flinched at the comment, but reminded herself that he was speaking from assumption and not knowledge. At that precise moment she’d rather have been bound anywhere but to a lovers’ tryst. Her cheeks flamed. “Sir, I appeal to your honorable nature. Of course you must know that if I am discovered by my...ah...my master, I will be severely punished.”
He smiled down on her and touched her cheek with a finger. “Your master should be advised, little vixen, so that he can bolt the door at night. Surely even you would agree that some discipline seems in order.” He looked over his shoulder at his driver. “Pull the horses a safe distance off the road, Bevis. The lady and I will sit in the coach for a moment.”
“Thank you, but I’d better be on my way.”
“On your way where, miss? Your horse is gone and you are in need of a ride. I can take you where you’re bound on the way to my appointment. I have business with the baron of Chappington at his home. I assume this is his estate.”
The color drained from her face and her mouth opened, but she caught herself before she gasped aloud. Dear God, the man was on his way to see her father. Her knees became weak and she wobbled slightly, trying to seize both balance and wits.
“Oh...my...perhaps I will sit for a moment— just a moment.”
His hand was firm on her arm, leading her to the open door of his coach. As he handed her in, he spoke to his man again. “Tie these horses and take the stallion back down the road a bit. See if you spot the girl’s horse.”
Once inside his coach, Vieve tried to take a quick accounting of her situation, seeking first to determine which threat was worse. Should she fear this stranger, her father’s wrath, or a long, lonely walk home alone? He sat down opposite her. Outside, she could hear the driver softly coo to his horses as he tied them to a nearby tree, followed by the sound of his gentle murmurs to the saddleless stallion as he mounted; and then, all too soon, there was only the quiet spring night again.
“Are you going to tell me where you were going?” the man asked her.
“It... it is of no consequence, surely.”
“I am only curious, miss. Does a lover await you nearby?”
A small lantern lit the inside of the coach, and though it cast only modest light, her view of him was better than it had been on the road. She eyed him cautiously. He had a strong chin, deep gray eyes beneath thick dark brows, and since he had removed his hat, she could see an abundance of thick, black hair. She could not judge his age; he was younger than her father and older than Andrew.
“The man I am to marry,” she said evenly. Admitting that a lover waited nearby was embarrassing, but far safer than telling him there was no other man within earshot if she was forced to scream for help.
“Do not marry him, mademoiselle,” he said with a chuckle in his voice. “He has too little regard for your safety. Any man who would coerce one so young into a late night ride, all alone, is only interested in himself.”
She took a breath and pulled her cloak more tightly around herself, wishing to disappear into the folds. She did not know where this man came from or what his business with her father might be, but she desperately hoped that a little lie, if well executed, would preclude a worse predicament.
“Please understand, sir. I am a servant of Chappington Hall, and Lord Ridgley is a hard master. I am not allowed to see my betrothed, and the baron refuses to let us marry. He’d rather have an unhappy servant than a contented wife who would leave his employ. We are hard pressed even to speak to each other and are driven to dangerous lengths for just a few private words. I am sorry you were endangered by the risks we have taken, but if Lord Ridgley finds out what I have done, he will surely beat me.”
The man watched her face closely. He slowly reached across the short space that separated them and pushed back the hood of her cape to reveal her thick tresses of golden hair. His fingers touched the frogs that held her cape at her throat, and he gently opened the wrap to expose the rich, cream-colored velvet riding habit and the diamond brooch she wore. Again, she saw the gleam of his smile. “Lord Ridgley dresses his servants well,” he observed.
Vieve pulled her cloak back together. “The dress is borrowed, sir. I do not own such fine clothes.”
“And what work do you do, miss? A scullery? Laundress?” He reached for her hand and turned it over in his palm. “A governess, perhaps? Your hands do not labor with anything more abusive than a quill or a book. Do you teach the baron’s small children to read and write?”
She was tempted to assume that role, but something cautioned her. She had no idea how much this man knew about her father or the rest of her family. “No, messire, I am an attendant and companion to the baron’s daughter. This is her gown and jewelry. She is the only one who knows that I am on my way to meet my fiancé.”
He laughed at her then, as if amused by her story. “And how old is this daughter of the baron’s?”
“We are the same age, seven and ten. We were raised together. My mother once served in the manor.”
“I see. How convenient for you to have a good friend in the heiress, and one who can lend you decent clothes, too. But, miss, if she were truly your friend, she’d have loaned you an escort along with her gown and jewels. I think perhaps I should take you back to Chappington. The baron needs to caution his daughter not to become involved in such romantic dramas with a servant.”
“Oh please, sir, I beg you, do not. He’s a mean-tempered man and would whip his daughter as well. And my fiancé would be banished forever. Lord Ridgley has warned me against seeing him and has threatened to separate us.” This was as much a lie as the other things she had said. Boris Ridgley did not really dislike Andrew and had never threatened to separate them. Vieve had never been whipped in her life, but her father would be in a fit of pique for an indeterminate length of time if he ever heard of this. Whippings, she fantasized, would be easier to bear.
The man crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You should not have to earn your sustenance under such horrid conditions, my pet. I could offer you employment with conditions not nearly so brutal.”
“Oh, I could not. I am very happy where I am...except for his lordship. I do love the mistress...and my betrothed is here.”
“Perhaps I could take you both,” he generously offered, but his eyes twinkled and he smiled in such a way that Vieve suspected he was mocking her. “It would be better for you than being forced to steal away from the manor house at night to see your lover. Think of the many perils on the road.”
“I shan’t do so again,” she said in a burst of honesty. And then she added, “These roads have always been safe. It is just that I... ah...I am afraid of the dark.”
“Young woman, there is good reason to be afraid of the dark,” he replied, sliding toward her and reaching again to open her cloak. She raised a hand to stop him, but he gently grasped her wrist, preventing her protest. As one hand held her, the other slipped inside her cloak until his long fingers circled her slim waist. His eyes glittered almost silver in the lantern light, and her breath caught in her throat. Was his rescue at an end? Could he abuse her and then casually travel
to a meeting with her father? She opened her mouth to blurt out the truth, that she was the baron’s daughter. Her father’s anger seemed preferable to what she feared this man might do to her.
“Hush,” he said before she spoke. “I have never treated a lady unkindly. I am just a little curious about you, that is all.”
She sat stone still as he moved closer to the edge of his seat, his knees spread and pinning her legs between them. “Please, don’t...” she whispered.
“I will not hurt you,” he said, caressing her waist and looking into her eyes. “The light is not good, but it is easy to see that you are lovely. And young. You must be made aware, little damoiselle, that it is not necessary to sell yourself for such a low price as love. Tell your selfish lover that there are men who will pay a king’s ransom for what you have to offer. They will clothe you so that you need not borrow your mistress’s gowns, and they will carry you abroad in jeweled coaches, never asking you to brave the dark night alone for want of a tryst.” He shrugged. “It will not matter much that you are not a virgin. You are still young and sweet.”
“But... but, you misunderstand,” she argued, not only frightened now, but annoyed by his assumption. “I care nothing for riches. I am not a harlot.”
He laughed in genuine amusement. “At least not a very successful one. Prostitutes have the sense to take a good return for their virtue. You, on the other hand, are prepared to trade your decency for some promise of love... in a borrowed gown, yet.”
“Please, just let me go,” she begged.
From outside she heard the faint sound of an approaching horse and the whistling of a tune. As the man cocked his head to listen, he withdrew his hand and she tugged her cloak closed. When he opened the door of the coach and stepped out, she was right behind him. Coming down the road toward the coach was the driver, pulling Tristan alongside him. Her rescuer looked over his shoulder at her, smiling as if he harbored some secret “You’re in luck, miss, for Bevis has recovered your mount... a fine-looking horse.” He raised an eyebrow. “Borrowed, no doubt, from your mistress.”
She held her tongue and checked her anger, but on whom she wished to vent this emotion was still uncertain. Her father, for failing in her remedy of a quick and decent marriage? Andrew, for convincing her to partake in this foolish escapade? This stranger, for his cocky intervention and advice? Or herself...?
The driver dismounted and handed Tristan’s reins to his master. He then tethered the stallion to the coach. “He’d not gone far, Cap’n,” he said as he stroked Tristan’s handsome white head. “‘At’s a good lad, now.”
Vieve had no wish now but to find Andrew at the old keep and bring this adventure to an abrupt halt. He might have set his mood for some lovers’ tryst, some passionate kissing and murmuring, but she’d been through quite enough. It was her intention to go on to the old keep solely because it was closer to where she now stood than was Chappington Hall. She would insist that Andrew escort her back until her home was in sight. There would be no dawdling in the dark tonight.
“Thank you for your gallantry, sir,” she said, reaching toward Tristan and getting his reins in hand. “Would you be so kind as to give me a hand up?”
“With pleasure, my sweet,” he said in a teasing tone. She grasped Tristan’s mane, placed her foot in the gentleman’s hand, and was in the saddle again. She felt completely safe when in her saddle, for despite her poor judgment, she was a skilled equestrienne and the distance yet to travel was fairly short. She would be easy on Tristan and, after giving Andrew a piece of her mind, get on the road home. But one thing detained her: the stranger’s hand was wrapped tightly around her ankle. “Heed my words, ma petite...do not sell your virtue at such a low price. There are men who will honor you with a great deal more than this boy offers.” He smiled meaningfully. “They may even sweeten the pot with this great love for which you long.”
She lifted her chin indignantly. “Is there a better price than marriage?” she asked.
“My mistake, mademoiselle. I thought you said it was your betrothed, not your husband, who asked you to ride out in the night for a rendezvous.”
“And so he is my intended, but he will be my husband soon.”
He chuckled and stepped away from her horse, giving her the freedom to leave. “Ah, but you ride to him now, before the wedding. Have a care, pet, that no part of the dowry is lost before the priest is met.”
“Worry not, sir,” she said. “He is an honorable man and desires marriage with a virtuous woman.”
He tipped his hat. “I rest easier knowing so, mademoiselle. But should he disappoint you, I am at your service. A mistress should be better kept than you are. Send your petition to the Lady Lillian in London port and ask for Captain Gervais. Try to keep it quiet around the wharves that you seek an American.”
So, he was a colonial sea captain. That explained the accent and his business with Lord Ridgley, who owned his own fleet of merchantmen. She was confounded, though, by his courteous nature. Since her father was engaged in foreign trade, she had often been warned about the long-starved and ruthless passions of sailors in port. And as to colonials, she had been a baby when the war between England and the American colony had begun. Now a mutual mercantile interest between these separated nations was just forming, but very slyly and without a formal treaty or any approval by Parliament. Vieve’s countrymen did not speak well of Yankees, but Lord Ridgley had told her many times that traders were more impossible to stop than soldiers. What she had heard about Yankee seamen and colonials implied that they would rape, brutalize and then abandon her by the side of the road if she were ever at their mercy.
There was a delighted expression on his handsome face as he added in a hushed tone, “Your secret is safe with me, ma cherie.”
“Please,” she whispered. “I beg your discretion.”
“Certainly, maid. Only a cruel rogue would damage your reputation to your... ah...master. Good evening.” He turned and entered his coach while his driver climbed back up to take the reins. He leaned out the window of the coach and looked at her one more time. “Do use caution, petite—both on the road and in your young lover’s arms.”
Vieve turned Tristan abruptly and gave him a gentle heel, urging him into an easy canter down the road and away from the coach. Though she could hear no sound but that of her horse’s hooves, it was as if she could feel the man’s laughter at her back. He was terribly confident for a visitor in a country that would unkindly welcome him. The English hated those citizens of the rebel nation. The remarks she had heard all of her life left her with unpleasant notions, and yet he was so well dressed, leading her to wonder if some of the rebels had acquired wealth. The pictures of Americans that she had formed in her imagination had them resembling savage pirates in cheap, torn, and dirty clothing.
Tristan’s slow pace was hard to endure. The darkness still frightened her, which was the paradox in her action. She had always fancied herself a daring maid. Tonight she braved a ruined reputation and endless trouble if caught, but it was the darkness of the night that held the greatest terror.
She went off the road and down a firm and often-traveled path toward the old keep, and to her great relief, Andrew stood beside his tethered horse.
He rushed toward her as she neared, reached up, and grasped her by the waist to lift her down. “You came,” he said in a breath, his lips instantly proclaiming his delight as he held her face in his hands and covered her cheeks with kisses. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t...”
Vieve was almost as unprepared for her fury as he was. “Stop it,” she snapped, causing him to back away a bit. “You should never have insisted that I do this,” she stormed. “If my father ever finds out, it will be over for us, and you know that. I want you to ride back with me right now.”
“Vieve,” he began.
“For all the love you claim to feel for me, you ask me to ride out in the dark of night and meet you in some dilapidated old building on my father’s property, risk
ing my hide and my reputation. I must have been crazy to accept your challenge.”
“I thought you...” He released her abruptly. “You seemed willing enough this morning. This part of the country is safe. It’s not as if you met some angry bear along the road.”
“I did, in fact. Some foreign sea merchant who was traveling to an appointment with my father. I nearly collided with his coach. He says he won’t tell that he’s seen me out alone, but if he does...” She deliberately neglected to mention that the stranger did not know her true identity. She wanted Andrew to become as frightened as she had been.
“Good God. Who?”
“I don’t know who the devil he is,” she shouted. She had not actually forgotten his name so soon, but who he was had nothing to do with her anger. Her voice cracked slightly and tears threatened. She did not consider that the stranger had planted the idea that Andrew was less than chivalrous, changing her entire view of the situation. Earlier in the day, when she’d given in to Andrew’s pleading and promised to meet him, she had pitied his desperate longing and had agreed they deserved some moments alone. Now, however, she saw him as a selfish opportunist. “If you cared anything at all for me, you’d be protecting my virtue rather than begging me to yield it. Give me a hand up, please, and ride back with me.”
Andrew gave a low whistle. “I can see your mood has changed quite a lot since this morning.” He locked his fingers together for her foot. “I was not the only one who spoke of love and a brief chance to be alone, Vieve. You act as if this is my fault.”
She settled into her saddle again. “It was your idea. I want to go home, now, before you get any more ideas.”
“So, you’ve changed your mind about me altogether? You no longer care for me?”
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “You don’t seem to understand, Andrew. If you truly loved me, you wouldn’t ask me to do anything foolish or dangerous. And this is both.”
“I hadn’t thought you’d be in any danger. You know I wouldn’t risk your safety for anything. I want to marry you, for God’s sake.”