He thought the man too young, of course. The third son of a rural baron, John Bexley was barely into his twenties when Estelle made her come out. Other much more prominent young men paid her notice and Myserleigh had high hopes for them, by the end of Estelle's first Season she informed her brother she would accept no other; it was Bexley or no one for her.
Myserleigh had thought it folly and syrupy sentiment, but she used every weapon in her arsenal—tears, foot stamping, hysterics, and even cold, clear logic to sway him on the subject. Eventually he gave in. Estelle married her Bexley that summer and had seemed blissfully happy for the past six and a half years. It was a damn shame that her husband had to be struck down now and upset their idyllic life. Myserleigh would never forgive the man if he left her grieving with three small children to raise.
Not that they would ever want for anything, should the worst happen. Myserleigh would see that they had everything growing children needed. He would even do his best to be some sort of father-figure to them, he supposed.
A terrifying thought, that. What did he know about helping to rear children? Nothing, of course. He'd avoided the very thought of anything so domestic as that. The fact that it was his duty to marry and produce a pack of his own little Bahamburg heirs was always in the back of his mind, but so far he'd not felt any specific necessity for it. He'd not longed for the persistent patter of little feet and he'd certainly not encountered any female who made him long for breakfast conversation with her every day. Every week. Every year. For the rest of his life.
Dear God, but that was even more terrifying than the fatherhood thought. Tying himself to one woman for the rest of his life? Not high on his list of priorities.
"What else is on your list?" Miss Meriwether asked.
He was so startled to hear her voice that at first he did not comprehend her question. As the words slowly repeated themselves through his brain and he sorted out the meaning, he became even more startled. Was the quiet chit some sort of witch that she should read his private thoughts? He stammered just a bit as he spoke.
"I... I beg your pardon?"
"Your list from Estelle. What else does she ask you to collect for her?"
"Oh. that list. Yes... er, of course that is what you meant."
"Of course. What other list is there?"
"None! That is, nothing. There is nothing further on Estelle's list."
"Nothing? You mean those sweet-smelling mince pies were the last item you needed to get?"
"Yes. There are several parcels of toys I had already collected and stowed in the wagon, but the golden trinkets and the spicy sweets were the last items I needed."
"I see. So we are truly on our way then."
"Yes. We have been for some time."
"Good. I'm sure we are both more than eager to reach our destination. How much farther will we travel today before we must rest for the night?"
"It will be just before dark when we reach Basingstoke. Do you think your pony can manage that far with a minimum of resting?"
"I've been watching her. She seems to be faring well enough."
"And you?"
"I'm quite well, thank you. Now that the rain has let up, I'm very nearly comfortable."
He knew that could not possibly be the case, but he appreciated that she did not insist upon whining the whole way of their journey. Nor was she making a fuss about their overnight arrangements. Surely she could not be entirely at ease with the notion of spending the night in some strange inn with a gentleman she'd only just met.
Or was this nothing out of the ordinary for her? He couldn't imagine Estelle would invite an easy woman to be a guest in her home and attend any part of her children's education. Still, Miss Meriwether had not batted an eye at the notion of traveling unaccompanied with him. What was he to think of her?
He could not be certain. All he did know was that he couldn't help but think of her. Everything about her appearance spoke well-bred gentility. Her posture was good, her language was cultured and proper. Yet here she sat, cold and still damp from the rain, yet uncomplaining and serene. She was unlike any woman he'd encountered and he had to admit he found that fact alone more than a little off-putting.
He preferred to know exactly where things stood with a person. Miss Meriwether, however, was an enigma. He did not know what to expect from her and he did not quite know what she expected from him. He didn't like the feeling of uncertainty that produced in him. It almost made him feel as if... as if he were compelled to figure her out, to make sense of her.
And he'd known for a good number of years now that trying to make sense of a woman could only lead one into trouble.
"Oh, but look!" she said.
He was startled. Not simply because he hadn't expected her to call out that way, but because he realized he'd not been seeing the road in front of them even though he was staring right at it. He'd been picturing her features, the glimpse of a most delightful ankle he'd caught when she'd climbed into the wagon, and contemplating whether to describe her eyes as more of an ocean-blue or a sea-green. He'd been leaning toward sea-green and was contemplating glancing over at her to get another look so he could decide for certain, but now she was pointing at something up ahead of them and he was forced to distract his attention toward that.
It was a carriage on the side of the road. Somehow the thing had been turned over onto its side, the horse still caught in the traces and struggling to right itself. Two young men moved about, clearly trying to calm the horse so they could save it but, apparently, having little success.
"Oh, you've got to help them!" Miss Meriwether cried. "The poor creature. He seems terrified."
Myserleigh didn't have to pause to consider. Instinct had already spurred him to action and he was pulling his own horse up to a halt. He secured the wagon and hopped out, running ahead to offer assistance.
"Cover its head," he ordered. "You've got to get him calm or he'll break his legs from all that thrashing."
Not sure if the young men heard his advice in all the chaos, he peeled off his own coat and moved around to the front of the animal. It was screaming and lathered up, down on its side, partially pinned by the shafts and getting more and more tangled by the minute. Taking care to keep away from its flailing hooves, Myserleigh tossed his coat over the frightened animal's head and held it there. His efforts seemed to merely send the horse into greater struggles and Myserleigh was nearly thrown off his feet when its huge head swung into him and caught him off guard.
"Talk to him," Miss Meriwether said, suddenly materializing at his side. "Use soft, soothing words to calm him."
He supposed it would help nothing to bark at her to get back to the wagon where she'd be safe, but he did manage to glance over his shoulder and catch her eye, giving her a very stern look. She was unflinching. Instead of running from either his angry looks or the shrill cries of the horse she moved in closer. Her delicate hands reached past his to touch the desperate creature.
He held more tightly to his coat, trying to pin the horse so it would not harm her. What the devil was she thinking to come out here, to put herself in danger this way? Once things were under control he'd speak very sharply to her about such reckless behavior.
"There, there," she cooed, ignoring him and focusing on the horse. "That's a good boy. Be still... let us help you."
Myserleigh held his coat in place, covering the animal's eyes to lessen its worry. Miss Meriwether continued muttering soft, tender things into its ear. Slowly, the horse responded and Myserleigh could feel it relax, giving up on its struggles and letting the young men in close enough to untangle its legs.
"It's no use," one of them said after a few moments. "They're twisted up tight. We'll have to cut the traces."
His companion agreed and produced a knife. Myserleigh kept the coat in place as Miss Meriwether entranced the creature with her smooth talking. The young men worked as quickly as they could to free the animal's legs, dodging every now and then as a frightened kick lashed o
ut for them. The more they had the beast untangled, the more danger they were in.
Myserleigh could only be thankful the horse seemed more intent on kicking its former passengers than aiming for Miss Meriwether.
"Here, this is the last one," the young man with the knife said.
He cut through the tough leather and the horse twisted, realizing its legs were free and giving one final, desperate push to get back on its feet. Myserleigh wrapped one arm around Miss Meriwether's waist and pulled her aside just in time to avoid being trampled. They staggered back as the horse pulled free of the shafts, shaking and puffing and tossing its mane.
"He's none too happy about it all, but I don't see any injury," one of the young men said.
To prove the point, the horse lunged forward, its harness jangling as it put distance between itself and the overturned carriage. Myserleigh reached to grab the bridle, but he was half a second too slow. The horse realized his opportunity and took off, galloping for all his worth up the road and around the next bend.
One of the young men swore. Myserleigh was about to chide him for such language in the presence of a lady, but a moan from the other side of the carriage caught his attention.
"Good heavens! Someone is injured!" Miss Meriwether exclaimed.
Myserleigh peered around and found a third young man propped up against the roof of the badly damaged carriage, a trail of blood running across his face and his arm cradled uselessly against his chest. His companions dashed around to him. In all the commotion Myserleigh hadn't noticed that the horse had not been the only near casualty of the wreck. This young man, however, was not likely to get up and go galloping down the road.
"The horse ran off, Jasper," one of his companions told him. "Are you hurt badly? What should we do?"
Miss Meriwether was gaping at the blood running down and seeping into the man's clothing. Myserleigh wished she would turn her head since it was obvious the sight was distressing her, but instead she moved in closer.
"You need a doctor, sir," she said. "Can you move at all?"
"It's a good two miles yet to the next village," the other of his partners said. "Can you make it, do you think?"
"Get me on to Nana. She'll mend me up right," the injured man replied.
"There's room in our wagon," Myserleigh offered. "Is this Nana in the next village?"
One of the young men shook his head. "No, I'm afraid she's all the way in Newchild-on-Bourne, beyond Basingstoke and off to the South. Are you going that far, sir?"
"I hadn't planned on it," Myserleigh admitted. "We planned to spend the night in Basingstoke."
"Surely there's a doctor close by," Miss Meriwether suggested. "You must be in great pain. Let us take you to find someone right away."
But the injured man shook his head. Myserleigh could not imagine that must have felt very good, but the fellow seemed determined to make his wishes known.
"No, Nana will tend me. If you could get us to the next village, I'm sure we can find another conveyance there and go on to Newchild."
Miss Meriwether seemed dubious. "A conveyance for more travel? But you need a surgeon!"
"Nana is better than any saw-bones you'll find in a village around here. I'll wait until I can get myself to Nana."
Myserleigh was tempted to let the young man have his way, but Miss Meriwether's concern was quite evident. She turned to him with her huge sea colored eyes.
"How much out of our way is it to travel to this Newchild-on-Bourne?"
"It will add a good two hours, I'm afraid. We won't make it there before nightfall, that's certain. Then we'll still have to find some place to stay for the night."
"Nana will put you up," one of the young men piped. "With our carriage destroyed, the horse run off, and Jasper all in pieces, we'd be ever so obliged if you carted us there."
Myserleigh was all set to give the man a firm No, but Miss Meriwether beat him to it.
"I'm afraid we dare not," she said. "This is the Earl of Bahumburgh and his sister's husband, Mr. Bexley, is very ill just now at their home in West Timley. He suffered a terrible injury that is now taken over by infection, so you can imagine the whole family is awaiting our arrival. We simply cannot be late."
"This Bexley fellow is ill, is he? Well, then you should definitely come with us to Nana. She'll make you a tincture or a salve or whatever she deems he might need. All you'll need to do is get us there, then provide a few details of the man's condition."
"Really?" Miss Meriwether said. "Do you really think she would do that?"
"Of course! She's the best healer in all of the county."
"Well, then perhaps... Do you think we could, my lord?" she asked, batting those eyes up at him expectantly. "We'd be helping this young man and perhaps Mr. Bexley, too."
Myserleigh had little use for these so-called healers and their magical potions, but he found it impossible to sneer at Miss Meriwether's eager compassion. She truly wanted to help this young man, and she wanted to believe his Nana—whoever that was—might provide miracles. Of course, it was not very sensible to believe things like that. Myserleigh knew better than to get his hopes up. Still, the young man appeared very sure. What if perhaps this Nana was... Bah. Flights of fancy, all of it.
What he needed, what this young man needed, and what Estelle needed was to see things as they were, not as they might wish them to be. That was the sensible way, the way Myserleigh always lived his life. Strange, though, that it seemed the longer he was around Miss Meriwether the more he had to remind himself to be sensible.
"My sister has employed the best physicians available to help her husband," he assured them all. "I am not interested in prolonging our journey today. I think it will be best if we simply carry you all to the nearest village and then find a proper conveyance to take you the rest of the way, as you suggested."
"Suit yourself," one of the young men said, bending to help his injured friend up onto his feet. "We'll be thankful for the ride to any place just now."
Myserleigh glanced over at his own traveling companion. She seemed a bit downcast at having not gotten her way, yet she kept a calm demeanor and even smiled sweetly as she did her best to help guide the men out of the ditch where their carriage had overturned and then lead them toward the wagon. She fussed over them all, helping to assure the weaker one had the most comfortable seating arrangement and warning the young men to keep their hands off the mince pies when they began commenting on the heavenly scent. She made certain everything was quite secure before she came up to the front of the wagon to climb into her own seat.
Myserleigh made sure he was there this time to help her aboard. She'd proven she did not need his assistance, but he'd be damned if he let these careless whelps watch him allow a lady to make her own way up into his rugged wagon. They already must wonder what manner of earl he was to arrive dressed in ill-fitting clothes with a conveyance better suited to farming needs than carting gentility, but he would not give them any reason to question Miss Meriwether's position here. She was not some uncared for servant they might consider taking advantage of, just in case that is what had begun to cross their minds.
They were, after all, three otherwise healthy young men, clearly some sort of well-bred, and she was quite an attractive young lady. It would be only natural that they might notice this and get some ideas. Myserleigh would keep a close watch over them and be glad to be rid of them at the earliest possible moment.
For Miss Meriwether's sake, of course.
Chapter 4
"So you've come from the east?" Carole asked, twisting around in her seat to continue conversation with the three young men.
She'd found them immensely entertaining so far. The earl, of course, had been his usual, brooding self, but the young men were quite engaging. Of course their friend Jasper was a bit quieter than the others, but once they made rags from one of the shirts packed in their traveling bag and got his head to stop bleeding, it seemed he might be just fine. They found a relatively secure way t
o prop his arm and he was even able to add to the conversation from time to time.
The three of them, Jasper, Basil and Mel King, were brothers on their way home from school for the holiday. Quite the enthusiastic scholars, too, from the way they spoke of their favorite studies in science and astronomy. They spoke enthusiastically about their Nana, as well.
Apparently she was not actually a relative of theirs, but the old woman who had nursed all three of them as babes. To hear them speak, this Nana had raised every baby in their village and was revered as some sort of saint by one and all. She seemed to have nearly magical skills and an understanding of herbal remedies that could cure any disease imaginable. Carole believed next to nothing that they were telling her, but she found them highly amusing, nonetheless.
"Yes, we've been traveling far," Basil said. "And I can tell you I'm eager to get home for good old cook's pudding."
"You're always eager to eat anyone's pudding," Mel chided.
"Well, sitting next to these mince pies is making me hungry!" Basil defended himself. "They smell like ambrosia for the gods!"
"Well, you ain't exactly no god," Mel assured him. "So keep your paws off the lady's fragrant pies."
The two young men jostled each other in mock battle and bumped against Jasper in the process. He grimaced. Carole wished she could do more for him than offer the last wadded handkerchief from her reticule.
"Is the pain very great, Mr. King?" she asked him.
"Not enough to kill me and put me out of my misery, I'm afraid," he replied. "But bad enough. I'll surely be glad when we get home to Nana and she can brew up one of her concoctions."
"Is she really so very accomplished? Caring for the sick is a wonderful talent."
"Oh yes, she's amazing," Basil answered. "Everyone from miles around comes to her for the least little thing. She always knows just what to do."
"It's a shame you don't have time to come see her," Mel added. "I know she'd want to help you out for your brother, after the kindness you've done us on the road."
The Earl's Christmas Delivery Page 4