No Ordinary Groom

by Gayle Callen

  “My dear Miss Whittington,” he said, rising to his feet. “I—can you ever forgive me? I am just a man, overcome by your loveliness and the thought of marriage to you.”

  “You cannot possibly make me believe that just thinking a woman is lovely would make you behave so improperly, my lord,” she said with disapproval.

  “It is a weakness that perhaps other men have conquered, Miss Whittington. I am sorry that my display of affection makes you think less of me.”

  She seemed to be taking a moment to think on that, and he found himself looking at her sedate, deep blue riding dress, so formal and acceptable, with its neckline clear up to her throat, and its tight sleeves outlining the litheness of her arms. Beside her on a little table he saw the book on Indian history that she’d been reading. It made him uneasy to imagine what she concealed beneath the outward perfection of a young miss of society.

  He wondered sardonically why he thought he was the only one with secrets to hide.

  Earlier, she had as much as admitted that she cared little what people thought. This worked out well for their journey, but not so well for his plan for the perfect family. Maybe her father did not understand her as well as he thought.

  “I don’t think less of you for your ardor, my lord,” she finally said, looking the picture of serenity again. “It is your inability to control it that disturbs me.”

  “I will do my best not to disappoint you again, Miss Whittington.” Would she refuse to travel with him? Would he have to find another means to persuade her?

  “Will this dog you are so fond of protect me from you?”

  He allowed himself a relieved smile. “He can be quite jealous of my attentions to others at times. I imagine you’ll have Killer on your side in the battle to keep us apart.”

  Her demeanor cooled. “It will not be a battle.”

  “Of course, Miss Whittington.”

  “If you have nothing else to say to me, my lord, then I must begin my preparations. If it is convenient for you, shall we leave in say…three days?”

  “That is perfectly acceptable.” He gave her a short bow. “Does this mean we will not be riding today?”

  As she walked toward the door, she glanced over her shoulder at him, wearing a small smile. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”

  “Ah well, I do have to meet with my tailor and rush my autumn wardrobe. We shall have plenty of time to get to know one another later.”

  Her smile disappeared, and she fixed him with another of her penetrating stares. “I hope you mean by discussion only, Lord Chadwick.”

  “Naturally, Miss Whittington.”

  In the drawing room, Jane called for her butler, who promptly appeared. Efficiently, she had Chadwick’s horse brought around. She then said her farewells from the drawing room, closing the door behind Chadwick and leaving the final escort outside to her butler.

  As Will stood out on the street and breathed deeply of the hot, muggy air, he gathered together the tattered edges of his plan. While a groom held his horse’s head, he mounted, then rode away from the Whittington town house.

  He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten all about Charlotte—and didn’t understand why the colonel had not included her as well. It seemed suspicious for one daughter to be forgotten, but since it played into Will’s plans, he would ponder it later. He didn’t want Charlotte accompanying them to Yorkshire. Without her presence, he would have more success persuading Jane how happy their marriage could be.

  He’d have to arrange for Charlotte to be invited somewhere important enough for her to remain in London. He had more than a few connections left over from his time with the army of the East India Company. Even the queen herself might help in a pinch. Her Majesty enjoyed the stories Will told her about his service—stories he could never tell anyone else, of course.

  He urged his horse into a trot and reflected on the day’s triumphs. More and more he realized his almost-kiss with Jane must have been a subconscious inspiration on his part. There was a tenuous thread of desire between them, and he would make sure it consumed them by the time they reached Yorkshire.

  After Jane sedately closed the drawing room doors, she turned around and sagged back against them. Lord Chadwick had almost kissed her—and she had almost allowed it!

  She told herself not to think about it—after all, she had never been kissed by a man. Didn’t every young girl aspire to such things when growing up?

  But Jane had long ago given up the idea that there was a perfect man for her somewhere, a man whose kisses would make her swoon. And yet—just brushing against Lord Chadwick’s knee had made her feel light-headed!

  She had to stop thinking about it. Lord Chadwick now understood that he was not to do such a thing again. Her sister—and even a dog, she thought with distaste—would be with them on the journey.

  She suddenly remembered her father’s letter and felt chagrined that it had flown her mind when Lord Chadwick had asked to kiss her. She found it on the floor, shook her head in dismay at her neglect, then opened the seal.

  My dearest Jane,

  I hope you do not mind that, with this journey, I have forced William into your life yet again. He is a good man, and can be trusted to bring you safely to me.

  I am counting the hours until I see you again, Jane.

  Yours affectionately,

  Papa

  She was going to see her father in mere weeks! And of course, Papa must want Charlotte to come too. He’d probably been in such a hurry to send the letter that he’d forgotten to add her name.

  She laughed aloud and hugged herself until a sudden inspiration made her sober. Could she convince her father to let her break this betrothal? Surely he would understand her reasons for not marrying—especially a man like Lord Chadwick. She decided she would take extra care with her journal every night, recording all her objections, all the things that were wrong with her betrothed. Her father would see that although Lord Chadwick was adequate as his friend, he was wrong for his daughter.

  For more proof, she would insist Lord Chadwick show her his town house before they left London. And she wouldn’t warn him beforehand, either. She would see how he lived—how he expected her to live.

  Later that afternoon, Jane was not surprised to find her mother more than pleased with the traveling arrangements. Any concerns about scandal were overridden by her relief that Jane seemed to be accepting Lord Chadwick.

  Charlotte, who’d been staying at their town house for the last several days, agreed to come on the journey and said she was glad at the thought of visiting their father. But she also seemed distracted about something, and Jane believed that getting away from London and its memories would be good for Charlotte.

  Two days later, Jane and her maid were in her bedroom surrounded by several trunks and portmanteaus, trying to decide what to bring. When someone knocked on the door, Jane absently called for the visitor to enter.

  She glanced up to see Charlotte, who was looking at the trunks with an almost guilty expression.

  Jane set down her list and approached her sister. “Is everything all right?”

  Charlotte wrung her hands just like their mother did. “I can’t go to Ellerton House with you.”

  Stunned, Jane signaled Molly to leave, then waited while the girl closed the door. “But Charlotte—”

  Her sister whirled toward the window and leaned her hand against the frame. “I know you’re disappointed in me—as I am in myself,” she said over her shoulder. “I want to see Papa as much as you do. But today we received an invitation to a ball that’s being held at Lord Arbury’s home. Have you ever driven by it? It is a magnificent estate, not just a town house. Even Queen Victoria and Prince Albert shall be attending. I have no idea how we were fortunate enough to be included. It is my first chance to attend such an event since—since my husband died.”

  Jane put her hand on her sister’s shoulder. Though she had never understood what motivated her mother and sister where society was concerned
, she knew that it was time for Charlotte to begin living again. “You don’t have to say anything else, dear sister. Molly will accompany me.”

  She heard Charlotte sniff, and she thought her sister even wiped away a tear before turning to face her.

  “Thank you for not making this difficult, Jane. I felt quite distraught over this decision.”

  “That wasn’t necessary. Papa will understand, and he loves you just as you are. I’m sure he’ll be coming to town soon.”

  Charlotte smiled more naturally. “Thank you for understanding. Now let me return the favor by helping you pack.”

  Jane’s spirits sank. “But I’m almost done.”

  Charlotte glanced about at the garments draped across every available surface, then eyed Jane skeptically. “You don’t look ready. You know you need at least two gowns for each day, preferably three.”

  Jane sighed. “Charlotte, Ellerton House is not nearly so formal as London. I never wear that many clothes.”

  “But you’re traveling with your betrothed, and you’ll want him to see you at your best. And Papa might be entertaining guests, since he’s been gone so long.”

  Jane held her tongue. All she wanted to do was curl up at her father’s feet and listen to his stories, not share him with the neighbors.

  Charlotte put her hands on her hips. “You’ll need another trunk.”

  On the day of their departure, at midmorning, the Whittington town house was in an uproar. Molly had finally found Jane’s cloak. Two trunks and two portmanteaus were scattered around the hall as Jane moved among the servants, saying good-bye. Shaw announced the arrival of Lord Chadwick, and she turned to find his lordship surveying the chaos with amusement.

  “And I worried that my single trunk was a bit much,” he said. “It is good that you’re a woman after my own heart where a basic wardrobe is concerned.”

  For some reason that irritated Jane, but all she said was, “Our footmen will bring the trunks to your carriage, my lord. I can take care of the portmanteaus.”

  Molly slipped out of her tearful father’s embrace. “I can carry me own, miss.”

  “Nonsense,” Lord Chadwick said. “I’ll have my coachman do it. Barlow!” he called out the front doors.

  Jane turned away and rolled her eyes at his chivalry—only to be seen by her mother. Lady Whittington frowned and took Jane’s elbow to walk to the other side of the hall.

  “Jane, do be polite.”

  “I am, Mama. ‘Impolite’ would have been rolling my eyes where he could see me.”

  Her mother turned to face her, taking her by the shoulders. “Promise me you’ll give him a chance.”

  “I have already promised you this.”

  But that was a lie, and guilt tasted like ashes in her mouth. She felt even worse about not telling her mother she intended to visit Lord Chadwick’s town house first—but she didn’t feel bad enough to back off from her plan.

  When all her good-byes had been said, Jane allowed Lord Chadwick to lead her out to his carriage, followed by Molly. It was certainly an impressive vehicle—tall and black, with glittering lanterns hung front and back, and a coat of arms secured to the door. The sturdy horses were a perfectly matched black foursome. A groom stood at the head of each of the leaders.

  The coachman was a white-haired, older man in a wide-skirted greatcoat with shiny brass buttons. He wore a wide-brimmed, low crowned hat, which he dipped toward her. As he came forward to assist them, she saw that he had a slight limp that didn’t detract from his quick pace.

  “This is Barlow,” Lord Chadwick said, “my coachman on long journeys, and my butler while in London.”

  She was taken aback by the unusual delegation of duties to one man, but before she could speak, Lord Chadwick waved his monocle at her.

  “I’ll explain later. We’ll have plenty of time to talk.”

  She wanted to shudder. He would have no problem finding topics of conversation, she knew. She had brought several books, hoping his carriage was well sprung enough to read—and hoping to drive across her point that they could have peaceful silence on occasion.

  But as she neared the carriage, the low sound of growling reached her ears. Perhaps peaceful silence was too much to wish for.

  She turned curious eyes up to Lord Chadwick, but he only took her arm and beamed with the pride of a proud papa.

  “I imagine you’ve been anxious to meet Killer,” he said, wearing an indulgent smile.

  “I am not certain that is the correct word for my feelings, my lord.”

  But she found herself watching his hand reach for the door handle. It seemed to take an inordinately long time, and the growling got louder and louder.

  When he opened the door wide, Molly screamed.

  Chapter 5

  Jane stiffened, prepared to find a hideously large dog leaping out at them. But the growling turned into a surprisingly high-pitched repetitive barking, and she gaped at Killer.

  Leaning out of the carriage was a little terrier who couldn’t possibly have reached her knees. He had peppery colored fur on his long body and shaggy white hair on his stomach, both of which almost touched the ground. A white beard surrounded his mouth, and a white tuft of hair on his head made him look utterly silly.

  Jane laughed aloud, while Molly seemed embarrassed by her scream.

  The dog launched himself out of the carriage and was neatly caught by Lord Chadwick. The man watched Jane speculatively, although his dimpled smile was evident.

  “Oh, forgive me for laughing, my lord,” she said, covering her mouth with her gloved hand. “But—Killer?”

  He shrugged and petted the furry head of his dog. The animal stared fixedly at Jane, his growls softer but nonetheless present.

  “He was fierce from the moment of birth, Miss Whittington. I thought it a prophetic name.”

  “And has he killed someone?”

  “Almost—once or twice. But those are tales for another time.”

  She noticed that Mr. Barlow was grimacing as he regarded the dog. When he saw her studying him, he reddened and went to lower the step to the carriage.

  Mr. Barlow helped Jane and Molly into the rear seat, and then Lord Chadwick climbed up and sat across from them. He slid the glass window down, and Jane leaned forward to wave to her family. Soon they were rolling down the Mayfair street between hackney coaches, horse-drawn wagons, and omnibuses carrying passengers.

  Jane folded her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “Lord Chadwick, I would like to make a stop before we leave London.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Ah, perhaps you need something to keep you occupied on the journey.” He knocked on the roof, and Mr. Barlow began to steer toward the side of the street.

  “No, I’m prepared for that. But I would like to see your town house.”

  She hoped he would redden or stutter or try to talk her out of it—some indication that her plan would succeed—but all he did was smile, and those dimples suddenly looked wicked.

  But no, she could not imagine such a thing in silly Lord Chadwick.

  “Curious about where we will live?” he asked.

  The thought of living with him made her uneasy, but it was this she hoped to avoid. “In fact, I am. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  While he leaned out to tell Mr. Barlow their change of plans, she told herself not to be disappointed. He might be very good at keeping his feelings to himself. She sat back on the padded leather bench and looked at her betrothed and his dog, realizing with dismay, when his knees bumped hers, how very long his legs were.

  Will felt thoroughly scrutinized, and he returned the favor, admiring Jane’s rose-colored carriage dress and the way it emphasized her delicate figure. Her petticoats were obviously few in number, to keep the interior of the carriage roomier for all of them. She wore a small bonnet tied with ribbon beneath her chin and pressed her knees to one side, as if she didn’t want to touch him. Properly ladylike, he reminded himself.

  Bu
t not too ladylike to visit a gentleman’s home.

  This was an intriguing side to her he hadn’t expected. Her father had described a very proper young lady, the perfect society wife, the kind Will wanted. But now he wondered what was going on in that lively brain of hers.

  Killer growled, and Will restrained him. “Easy, my boy. You don’t like her much, do you? That will come with time.”

  “Then perhaps we shouldn’t marry,” she said lightly.

  He frowned at her. “That was not very amusing, Miss Whittington. Worry not—I shan’t need to choose between you and my dog. You two will be the best of friends by the time we reach Yorkshire.”

  She gave this silent consideration. “How do you bear the shedding?”

  He knew he was being teased. “I brush out my clothes.”

  “Heavens, that reminds me—where is your valet? Surely you don’t brush out your own clothes?”

  He arched a brow. She was showing a different sort of spirit, and it worried him. Society women didn’t show so much…sarcasm…did they?

  “It was difficult, but I forsook the services of my valet for this trip.” He made himself sound serious, as “Lord” Chadwick would, and kept his eyes from sparkling at her.

  Her amused expression faded to one of puzzlement, as if she saw something in his face. He was affronted by the very notion. No one, be it man or woman, had ever been able to read what he wanted to keep hidden. He was a master at deception. But he studied Jane and wondered if perhaps his skill had faded with time.

  He couldn’t imagine such a thing.

  After a few minutes, the carriage turned off the main road.

  “This is my street. We’re not very far from your home.”

  She eyed him coolly. “I am quite good with maps and though I am but a female, I do know where we are.”

  He put a hand to his chest. “I do not mean to imply otherwise. I am quite impressed with your directional abilities.”

  Now she was glaring, and he hurried to prove he was not teasing her.