by May Burnett
“Not your affair any longer.” Meller smirked, and put his hand on Dorrington’s shoulder. “Come, this is poor sport, John. If you are not going to give him satisfaction, it is pointless to insult the man. He is beneath our notice.”
“I suppose so.” Dorrington shot Duncan a look of acute dislike. He wondered how he had offended the other Captain to such a degree, since they had not frequently come into contact during their mutual service. Were those rumours, which had only arisen within the last few weeks, enough to cause actual hatred? Duncan himself rarely wasted emotions on people he barely knew.
He felt his ears and face burn with anger and humiliation as the men retired to the other end of the room, where they ordered drinks and food in imperious tones.
“I am sorry,” Miss Towers whispered. “My presence constrained you. Thank you for keeping your head.”
“You reminded me of our delicate position in the nick of time. I regret you had to witness that. It was not a scene for the eyes or ears of a lady. These ruffians would not have dared to be half as offensive, had you been here in your true persona, and in skirts.”
“So I should hope. As it happens, I have absolutely no interest in making the formal acquaintance of these low-bred fellows, and hope they never cross my path again.” She frowned. “They dealt you a vicious insult. Was that one of the rumours you referred to?”
“Indeed, and completely baseless, since I have never felt the least attraction to my own sex.”
“In that case my current disguise, and the fact that I could not speak to give these cretins a set-down, is particularly unfortunate. How bad is the damage to your reputation likely to be?”
“Hard to say. I am not going to associate with these officers in future, and in Portsmouth my reputation is already so black it hardly matters.” She would know as well as he did that such rumours, no matter how false, could haunt a man across continents and decades, for a whole lifetime.
“Whoever set this slander into the world is as spiteful as the men trying to kill me. To murder a man’s good name is no less monstrous a crime.”
“Yes, but there is little I can do about it right now. I suggest we continue our journey.”
“Very well,” she assented. “I have no interest in remaining in the same establishment as those dastards.”
As they left, she squeezed his hand in momentary sympathy. He did not turn his head, but he suspected that Dorrington and Meller had observed and noted the gesture.
“I fault your Colonel,” she said passionately, as they set off on their ill-assorted mounts. “It must be he who set the whole thing in motion, although it is his responsibility to safeguard the honour of his regiment. This hounding of a young officer until he has no choice but to sell out is unconscionable.”
“You are the only person, other than me, who holds this view.” Yet he could not help feeling gratified at her womanly sympathy. What she had witnessed was but a tiny part of the harassment Duncan had endured over the last few weeks. “I feel a strong urge to throttle someone. I hope we’ll come across your enemy, since I cannot close in on mine as long as your reputation could suffer from it.”
“When I am safe at Amberley with my friends, I hope you’ll come back and flay these curs as they deserve.”
It would do little good, but the thought was pleasant all the same. “Maybe I will,” he said. “Onwards, Miss Towers! We still have many miles to cover today.”
Chapter 11
The encounter with the two officers had shaken Monique. If that sneering contempt had been typical of what Captain Kinninmont had suffered in the Army, no wonder he had sold out. Nobody could stand such treatment day in, day out, without breaking eventually. Some men would shoot themselves for less.
That tall fellow, Dorrington, had been a familiar type, the quintessential bully, and probably a coward at heart. His refusal to accept a challenge branded him unworthy of serious consideration. The smaller man seemed marginally more intelligent, though she had not liked him any better. A thoroughly nasty pair.
She still thought of her protector as the Captain, her Captain, now she had met his former comrades-in-arms. He was a better soldier than they would ever be. What good was a uniform without honour and courtesy to go with it? Kinninmont might not be of gentle birth, but he was worth a dozen of these overgrown puppies. No wonder he wore that bleak expression at odd moments. She was not the only one to have experienced disillusion and disappointment.
Was it the officers’ desire to see confirmation of Kinninmont’s abnormal tastes, that had make them accept her disguise? Or was her male garb that convincing? Without a mirror at hand, Monique could not tell. She ought to practice a boyish voice as well. It had irked her, having to remain mute during that ugly confrontation, but she had been lucky that they had focused on the Captain rather than on her.
The mare shook her ears at a bumblebee, and she straightened the reins. Riding this bony animal for several hours was tiring, and the cloth of her trousers, too loose for riding, rubbed against the delicate skin of her lower extremities. She’d have to obtain and apply liniment when they found shelter for the night, or she would not be able to go on the next day.
It was most irregular, all this travelling across the countryside, escorted by a man to whom she was not related. Monique had sometimes longed for adventure, but now she was living one, she felt more apprehension than excitement.
“I have been thinking,” the Captain remarked when they were well away from the small town, trotting along a modest country lane that went vaguely in the right direction. “All this jaunting about may be quite unnecessary. You could go to earth in some defensible spot, and send a message to your friends to come and fetch you there. It cannot be too difficult to find a secure hiding place for a week or so. I’d stay nearby for protection, but not so close that my presence can further compromise you, Miss Towers.”
“Go to earth, like a badger? In that case I might as well have stayed at the Ellsworthys’ estate in Sussex,” she objected, “though if you have some proposal, by all means let’s discuss it. I am weary of being chased, and I expect that you also tire of this enormous detour from your destination.”
“That is unimportant. Nothing of note awaits me at my brother’s house. I have not written that I am coming, so he will not be alarmed at any delay.”
“There is supposed to be safety in numbers, but I cannot see myself enrolling in a boy’s school,” she said, “nor would I want to bring down any danger on children. A boat, on the other hand, might offer relative security.” Sailing away from all pursuit …
“Don’t believe it. Ruffians can hire boats as easily as anyone else, and if they come up to your craft at night, on the sea, there are no inconvenient witnesses. The sea is the ideal place to stage a tragic ‘accident’. Unless you have a very fast boat and experienced skipper devoted to your welfare, I would not recommend it.”
“Well, we don’t have either, and my funds will hardly stretch that far,” she said. “The best course may be to stable your horse and resell the mare, and take a seat on the stage towards London. We could descend at a random stop and catch another coach in the opposite direction.”
He was silent for a while, thinking her suggestion over. “That might indeed throw off our pursuers, if we don’t wait too long for the onward connection. Even so it will add at least two days to our journey, but the delay may be worth it, if we purchase more security in return. I wonder how many more coaches they are willing to wreck?”
“The coach I hired in Portsmouth is not wrecked, it only has bullet holes. And stains, but those can be cleaned,” she said defensively. “As for the berline, it was ingenious to stop it like that. They clearly did not care if anyone inside lived or died. I only hope poor Bessemer’s knee is not permanently damaged.” She did not mention Rita, whose wound might have turned putrid, and the weak state in which she had left poor Miss Maynard. How had everything gone so dreadfully wrong in such a short time?
The C
aptain also looked sombre. “Indeed. I am also concerned about that unknown dead man, and what the local magistrate made of the incident. We could find ourselves arrested if the postilion talked out of turn.”
“Or the other man, the one who got away. What is to stop him from spreading the worst kind of rumour? It may be too risky for him to come forward as an eyewitness, but a few words into some gossip’s ears…”
The Captain frowned. “I had not thought of that possibility. Miss Towers, it would seem you are a dab hand at intrigue.”
She did not explain that anyone who stayed at a royal court, even for a short while, had to learn how to anticipate intrigue in pure self-defence. “Whether they do that may depend on who is behind all this. A common criminal probably would not think of it, but the more dangerous, outwardly respectable sort may well enlist unwitting others to catch us.”
The mare sharply sidestepped a hole in the road. She winced as she came down from posting – there must be blisters forming on her thighs.
He noticed immediately. “We cannot go on until you are incapacitated,” he said, guessing the source of her distress with unwelcome accuracy. “We should rest awhile.”
“Yes, and before tonight I must buy liniment. I fear I overestimated my hardihood. I am but a poor, weak female after all.”
“Never say so, Miss Towers. I am all admiration of your fortitude and endurance.”
She grinned. “Not my pretty eyes or hair?”
“Those too, but any woman has eyes or hair. You have something much less common, a valiant spirit.”
She flushed a little, and looked away. “Thank you, Captain. So have you. I don’t understand how those louts in uniform could not see it.”
“Forget about them. They only see what they want to see. Though strangely, until I discovered those doctored accounts they never accosted me, or threw vile insinuations in my face. It must be that they now reckon they need not answer on the field of honour, for I am accounted a fair shot and adequate with the rapier.”
“I witnessed your shooting,” she reminded him. “Fast and straight between the eyes, with a pistol unknown to you. Anyone who crosses or insults you is a fool.”
***
Duncan slowed Emperor as he looked around for a good resting place.
Miss Towers did not sound disgusted or horrified when she spoke of the man he had killed, as a sensitive young lady should. She really was a most unusual girl.
He had better guard his heart, for nothing could come of any flirtation. She was an heiress, and judging from her well-born friends, above him in station. Yet she had not flinched at the officers’ ugly accusations, had shown understanding and sympathy. Would the man she eventually married appreciate how very special she was? He could only hope so.
Duncan could not allow her to ride until she was too sore and sick to go on. “We’ll try your idea with the stagecoach,” he said. “Now we only have to find a suitably busy stop, and buy tickets. Soon you will be able to rest your limbs, Miss Towers.”
“Limbs? What is that?” She batted her lashes playfully. “I am unfamiliar with that term. It sounds terribly uncouth.”
“I humbly beg your pardon, Miss Towers. I forgot that you are not truly a boy, and would not know expressions like limbs, legs, and such-like. Forgive me for sullying your tender ears with non-existent words.”
“I don’t truly mind,” she said, “but if I’m not careful I might utter one of the forbidden words in mixed company. I would never hear the end of it.”
“It is amazing how perfectly good words, that my late mother used without thinking twice, have become proscribed of late,” he observed. “People seem to believe that if they avoid an expression, the reality itself can be denied.”
“I agree, it is foolish, and our ancestors would think it ridiculous. But there is no percentage in swimming against the flow of society, and a high price to pay for non-conformity.”
True enough, especially for a lady. No whisper of Miss Towers’ current predicament must ever reach society. They should have disguised her as a widow, hidden her features under a veil. But that short, slight stature, and her brisk way of moving, would still give her away to anyone who knew the young lady. If only she was more average – but then if Miss Towers looked average, she would not be such a fascinating creature. Her size was an integral part of her, as was the lithe energy. A humming-bird was also tiny and yet fascinating, and faster than other birds. A peregrine falcon was not like the mighty eagle, but still a serious predator.
He really must stop these avian comparisons. Miss Towers was a lady, and infinitely superior to any other creature in God’s realm.
He called his thoughts to order with some consternation. This was completely unlike his usual sober process of ratiocination. He had only met Miss Towers a scant few days ago, and must not lose his head when they were on the run. All his wits must be kept together to ensure her survival, her safety. He could indulge in maudlin imaginings once they had parted with mutual assurances of goodwill, though hopefully by then he would have recovered his balance.
“You are silent,” she charged. “Wondering how to extricate us from this rural fastness?”
Indeed there was nothing like a coaching road in sight. Their environs could not have been more bucolic.
“Not a problem, we should be crossing one in about an hour if we continue in this direction.” He had studied the maps of the area during that night at the Ellsworthy estate, in the library. “We might rest for a while on yonder fallen log, and eat the pasties we bought in that last village. A soldier cannot neglect his stomach, or more importantly, his men’s stomachs. Napoleon said as much.”
“Yes, and foolishly forgot it when he attacked Russia. I am familiar with most of his sayings, for there are many Bonapartistes in France even now. They look down on the Bourbons as effete and decadent.”
He swung down from Emperor’s back and lifted her from the mare, resisting the temptation to hold on longer than necessary. “And are they?”
“No more than other ruling families, I suppose. The Crown Prince, Ferdinand Philippe, is fairly popular because of his active military service. One generation differs from the next – Queen Victoria is also a new departure from her uncles; nobody could call her effete or decadent.” She gracefully sat on the saddle blanket placed on the log.
“You underestimate the gutter press. Nobody is immune from censure, not even a head of state.”
“Especially not a monarch,” she agreed, “Louis Philippe has many critics, and I have yet to hear that the Austrians truly love their emperor, though their papers dare not censure him openly.”
“Who do you consider your monarch, Queen Victoria or King Louis-Philippe? And who is better for their respective nations?”
She was silent for a moment. “They are only human. I am not a great admirer of the monarchy as an institution, though I cannot say that openly to most of my acquaintances.”
“Your secret is safe with me, Miss Towers.”
Chapter 12
“Not long now,” Monique said to Captain Kinninmont. They were sitting on top of a mail coach bound for Kendal, and the gusty wind would have pulled off her scruffy cap, had she not secured it with hairpins. She had to hope nobody would look too closely. Dust made her eyes tear, so she had learned to keep them closed much of the time. Though the sky was partly overcast her hands might tan, but gloves simply would not do for a boy of modest means.
The Captain smiled down at her. “I suppose you are impatient to arrive, lad,” he said. The noise from the wheels and wind was such that only the closest passengers could overhear, but they had become much more careful over the last three days, and rarely fell out of their parts any more.
Not many people paid attention to a half-grown boy. Used to being waited upon by servants since her early childhood, Monique had found this journey an educational experience. Now that they had gone for several days without murderous attacks, her nerves had calmed down and she was beginn
ing to cautiously enjoy this odd interlude. Very possibly it would remain the only adventure in her sedate, civilised life.
She would miss the Captain, his unobtrusive support, perfect self-control and common sense. If any of her previous suitors had been more like him, perhaps she would not still be single. But then his character was the result of his past hardships and dedication, while the young men who wooed her came from luxurious circumstances, and tended to be correspondingly spoiled.
She would have liked to see him mingle with her friends, to observe how they would react to him. The Captain was not going to impress anyone on looks alone, though he was by no means unattractive; but current fashion was for long moustaches and sideburns, and more arrogant demeanour. He, in contrast, was refreshingly clean-shaven and unpretentious. She also liked that he did not smoke or chew tobacco, lamentably popular habits that Monique had always secretly considered gross.
“Promise you’ll stay at least for two or three days, after we arrive,” she asked impulsively.
“Your friends don’t know me, how could I impose on their hospitality like that?”
“They will want to get to know you, to assure themselves that I’ve been in good hands.”
“A terrifying prospect.” He shrugged. “We’ll see. I am not going to slink away, but neither will I socialize with people with whom I have little in common, presuming they invite me in the first place.”
She said nothing more. For her reputation it might be best if he simply left. Even the Amberley servants might talk about such a morsel of scandal. If she was observed arriving with a man and no respectable duenna, and if there was a house-party, she could be crucified by the resulting gossip.
“I have thought about our reception,” she said, lowering her voice, “if anyone at Am-, I mean, at the place where we are going sees me like this, it might lead to considerable awkwardness later. We should stop at the closest inn, in Kendal, and send a message to Uncle James and Aunt Charlotte. They will come to fetch me in a carriage, and bring me some clothes. I can change before arriving at Amberley, and nobody there will be the wiser. Not even the innkeeper, if we are careful.”