by Amara Royce
He opened the door a crack, squinting at her. The dark room behind him suggested she must have woken him. So did the sliver of bare chest she could see through the opening. That gave her pause.
“What?” he asked, his voice hoarse and gruff.
“I need to speak with you.”
“Now? Nay, we’ve all had a tiring day. Anything you wish to say would benefit from waiting until we’ve slept and our heads are clear.”
“Your patronizing tone notwithstanding, it is imperative that I speak with you now. Tomorrow will be too late.”
His brow wrinkled as he stared at her. She held his gaze, lifting her chin and wrapping her arms tightly around her torso. He would hear what she had to say, even if she had to stand here all night. After several long, tense, silent moments, he huffed and said, “Suit yourself. I can see you’ve a bee in your bonnet. Far be it from me to stand in your way if you’re determined to be stung.”
The wryness of his voice curled her shaking hands into fists, but he opened the door wide and went across the room, so she entered. She waited until he’d lit a lamp before closing the door firmly behind her. At the click of the door latch, he paused in the act of shaking out his shirt and raised a brow at her.
She answered the question he didn’t voice. “There is no need to air our grievances in the hallway where strangers might happen upon us. I wouldn’t want your gallant public façade to be dented and tarnished.” She cleared her throat, suddenly very, very aware of the small room and Lanfield’s bare arms and torso. He seemed somehow larger, broader in this state of undress. She gestured to his shirt as her cheeks suddenly burned. She meant to lambaste him, but the sight of his vulnerable throat, of the hollow there at the base, of his heartbeat pulsing in that spot—well, her body had other ideas. Unfamiliar, wayward ideas, and she froze as she tried to decipher them.
“Well?” he said, gruffly.
She closed her eyes for a moment and tamped down these renegade sensations.
“Helena, are you unwell?”
How dare he use her given name? That snapped her from her muddled, wayward thoughts. “Mr. Lanfield,” she said as coolly and formally as she could. “We need to talk. Please, do go on. You should be fully clothed so we might have the semblance of a civil conversation.”
Although he donned his shirt, he didn’t fasten the collar. Raising her gaze to meet his, she felt heat spread from her cheeks to her ears as she realized he’d seen her staring and he’d deciphered what it meant. “What you said about my desertion of Marksby was entirely distorted. I would go so far as to say your account was delusional.”
“Would you, now? How could you possibly know the effects of your actions on the village when you weren’t there to witness them?”
“You cannot convince me that one young woman’s elopement could destroy the future of an entire village. Communities do not hinge on one insignificant person. The loss of a central figure, like the mayor or the blacksmith, perhaps, but I know full well that the sun doesn’t rise and set by my force of will.”
“Again, suit yourself,” he said, with a dismissive flick of his hand. “Don’t believe me. You’ll see for yourself soon enough. The village never recovered. It continues to struggle onward, but you’ll find it much changed. Not for the better.”
“That is your perception.” She held up her hand when he opened his mouth to interrupt. “It may well be true,” she conceded, “but you must acknowledge what a ridiculous scenario it would be. A village full of high-minded, knowledgeable, industrious people brought low by one young woman? Unable to recover its glory or reestablish a new path to prosperity over a score of years? Surely, the effects of one insignificant girl’s personal decision would not have such deep, long-standing repercussions.” She felt herself beginning to babble, but she couldn’t stop as her mind raced along myriad paths of consequences, each possibility more horrifying. “Surely, I couldn’t . . . be prosecuted for . . .”
“British courts can’t compare with the collective memory of town elders,” he cut in. Even in the dim lamplight, she could see his stormy expression.
“Look, I deeply appreciate your willingness to transport me and my niece, especially in light of your obvious distaste. There is no need for us to continue in such an unpleasant fashion.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“You must recognize the difficulties of continuing this journey together. I have talked with the innkeeper about my options and found that it would be just as fast for me and much less of an inconvenience for you if Vanessa and I take a coach to the nearest train station and continue from there. Therefore, I have already arranged other transportation. Vanessa and I are no longer your concern.”
She hadn’t thought it possible for his demeanor to grow more irate, but it did. His eyebrows shot together, his eyes grew stormy, and his jaw tightened so much it was a wonder she didn’t hear his teeth crack in his skull.
“Already arranged! Nearest station! Such a fond hoit!” Immediately after his outburst, he took a few steps back, perhaps just as startled as she was by his vociferous reaction.
His insistence alarmed her as much as his intensity. How could he possibly care about her traveling plans? If anything, he should be relieved. Her chest felt tight. She struggled to take in more air as she stared at him. He crossed his arms over his chest and turned to face the window. For some strange reason, the sight of his shoulders, broad and tense, shook her.
“Sorry, Mrs. Martin, for speaking so.” She barely heard him, but at least he’d restrained himself. When she didn’t respond, he met her eye and continued, “Hope I didn’t frighten you. There’s no denying this is an uncomfortable alliance for us both, but I gave my word to your lads, to your sister, and to your friends, the Clarkes, that I would see you and your niece safely to your grandmother’s house, and that’s what I shall do.”
“So your word to them matters more than my wishes. I assure you I will tell them I chose differently. And my niece and I shall be fine without you.”
“I gave my word. Your wishes hold little sway with me, just as everyone else’s wishes hold no sway with you, then as now. You’re under my protection, and I’m responsible, should either of you come to harm.”
“I am not your responsibility. And my existence isn’t a means to practice your moral superiority. I’ve come to thank you for your assistance thus far and to inform you that I have arranged other transportation for me and my niece.”
She winced as he let fly a string of curses, including some things she couldn’t interpret, which was probably for the best. His breathing came in fierce puffs.
“Sir, we have barely been reacquainted,” she said, refusing to be cowed by his bull-like behavior. “Contrary to your obvious misconceptions, I am not a weak, helpless female in need of male protection.” In the dim light of the lamp, his figure seemed imposing, even from that distance. She went to pull her robe more tightly around her body but realized she might appear nervous or even frightened. Showing such weakness would belie her argument. She forced her arms to her sides and straightened her spine.
He cocked his head, and his gaze swept down her body with a smirk. Damn. He’d noticed her discomfort. He took a step closer. What a long stride he had.
“Mrs. Martin, when we first met in London, you swooned and were nearly trampled. I understand it’s not the first time.”
“As long as I plan carefully and control my environment, I can easily avoid such spells.”
He took another step, nearly crowding her against the door.
“You’re fooling yourself. Have you been on a train for more than a day?” he asked.
“No,” she admitted, “but I have taken shorter train trips without incident.” She didn’t mention that she’d taken them with her husband, nor that the last train trip had been three years ago.
“Have you been to Manchester in recent years? Are you familiar with its streets and transports?”
Another damned step. She pressed he
r back against the door, the knob digging into her hip.
“No, my husband never took me,” she stammered, but squared her shoulders. “But I am sure any rational adult could work out the logistics. I am far from that naïve girl who ran away from Marksby, and I am capable of taking care of myself.”
He leaned in, so close her chest brushed against his when she breathed. She stopped doing so.
“I wish it were so. But you’ve shown no such evidence thus far. Even if you weren’t prone to fainting under stress, you’d be easy prey for pickpockets, bandits, and swindlers. If I’d taken a minute longer in chasing off the stable boy out there, your bags would’ve disappeared with that thief you thought was so kind. You’ve no sense at all of how vulnerable you are.”
Vulnerable was exactly how she felt with his immense body crowding in upon her. His shadowy figure all she could see, she felt surrounded. Her cheeks burned, and she took shallow breaths to avoid brushing against him. He was trying to make her faint again, trying to prove how weak she was. She gritted her teeth but refused to be cowed.
“I assure you I would manage, sir.”
“What would happen to your sons if you were harmed? If you were fatally injured?”
“Stop!” How could he know? He voiced her deepest fear, her worst memories, and that keen insight of his shook her deeply. She lashed out to deflect him. “You would cast yourself as the Good Samaritan, selflessly assisting a helpless woman, but I am not your charity case. Taking that man for a servant of the inn was a mistake I shall not make again. And your moral high-handedness is quite rich as you condemn me for my supposed transgressions. This is not your decision to make, short of you kidnapping me and my niece. I came to do you the courtesy of informing you that, while we appreciate your assistance thus far, our plans have changed. I have now done so and bid you good night!”
“For the sake of your sons, I’ll see you safely to Marksby,” he said, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“I will not be forced. Certainly not by someone who despises me.”
“I don’t despise you,” he said firmly, but he had the grace to look away. “I did once. You caused my family a great deal of pain and humiliation. But that was long ago. Now I . . .”
She was far from convinced, but it was a relief when his voice trailed off. She didn’t want to know how he might end that sentence. Then she realized she couldn’t leave until he stepped away from her, away from the door. Before she could speak, he laid his hands on the door above her shoulders. She should have felt trapped by this dark silhouette imprisoning her, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered at the missing sense of panic, but then he leveled his face with hers, noses almost touching. Rational thought dissipated. Were his lips as harsh as his tone or as soft as his breath, mingling with hers?
“As you’ve said, I don’t know the woman you have become. You don’t know the man I’ve become either.” His tone held a note of roughness. Her entire body tingled, and she feared he could sense it. Then he tilted back ever so slightly, his eyes visible only as glittering points catching the candlelight. “ ’Appen you mistake your own guilt for what you call my moral high-handedness. Unlike you, I don’t break my promises. I don’t abandon women under my care. Accept it with good grace.”
Abruptly, he backed away from the door and said, his voice as calm as if their heated conversation hadn’t just occurred, “And now I bid you good night as well.”
Of all the—! It was useless to continue arguing with this stubborn, presumptuous ox of a man. She’d given him fair notice, and she would take Vanessa on the coach in the morning.
Weak rays of dawn filtered into Helena’s consciousness, and she heard the muffled scratching and thumping and creaking of the inn coming to life. The coach! Goodness, she needed to get Vanessa up and ready. It took a Herculean effort to get the girl up and out. One might think her niece deliberately dragged her feet, mumbling all the while about being packed in with strangers, to avoid traveling by mail coach. Where the child got her high instep was a mystery.
By the time she could rush Vanessa down the stairs and out to the yard, the coach had arrived and some passengers were disembarking. A small distance away, Daniel stood with Talos hitched to the cart. He tipped his hat at her in greeting, and she gave a perfunctory curtsy before gripping her bags more firmly and continuing toward the coach.
“Auntie, must we really ride in that?” Vanessa kept her voice low, but her petulant tone was unmistakable.
“I’m sure it’s finer than it looks.”
“But it’s already so full. There’s no room for us.”
Helena suppressed a shudder as she realized Vanessa’s observation was all too true. The coach was full to bursting, inside and out, even after three passengers exited. They’d practically have to sit on the laps of others.
“Nonsense, dear. See, we may take the seats vacated by those who just disembarked. Anyway, it will only be until Birmingham. We shall take the train from there, which shortens our travel time significantly.” She tried to sound unperturbed, but her mouth flooded with bitter saliva. They all look like decent, hardworking people, Helena. Don’t be silly. She realized with chagrin that their belongings would have to be stored with the other luggage, separating them from their valuables. Could she trust that their things would be safe? Meanwhile, she felt Daniel watching her. When she looked toward him, though, he was talking casually with one of the stable hands and stroking Talos’s muzzle. He hadn’t given more than acknowledgment and made no move to intercept her or Vanessa. He appeared ready to leave and yet he lingered.
“I’ve a schedule to keep,” the coachman said brusquely. “Are you ladies coming?”
“I don’t like the looks of this, Auntie,” Vanessa whispered, wringing her hands. “I feel an inexplicable dread about this. Please, let’s not. Mr. Lanfield is right over there. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we continue on with him.”
As dramatic as her niece could be, she’d never seen the girl in such a state of increasing agitation. It added to her own misgivings. Reluctant to hand over their bags, she asked the coachman, “Are you sure there are seats for us?”
“Can’t guarantee there’s space for you to sit together.” He looked at the vehicle, his eyes narrowing as he assessed the space. “There’s one seat available inside, one seat in front, and one for standing in back.”
“Oh, dear. That won’t do. My niece and I should not be separated. When is the next coach? What is the likelihood more seats will be available?”
“Couldn’t say, ma’am. Can’t see into the future. Wouldn’t be here if I could. Now, are you and the young miss coming or not?”
“I—we—If you could just give me a moment more—” she hedged. She felt no more amenable to this situation than her niece, but she had to prove she could do this. She must be able to ride a public coach without incident. After all, she’d survived an evening in an inn full of strangers. This was the next hurdle, and she would not be undone by it. Her own unease must have infected her niece, and they would both return to normal once they were on their way.
“Don’t see what another minute would serve,” the man replied, his tone clipped and overbearing. “These passengers have paid good money to get where they’re going. If you want to join them, now’s the time.”
“Good morning, Mr. Lanfield!” Vanessa called out.
Biting back a curse, Helena chastised, “It is improper to shout in public, dear, and quite improper to do so in order to draw attention from a man not in your—”
“Good morning to you, Miss Addison. Mrs. Martin, how nice to see you this morning.” Mr. Lanfield’s voice sounded much closer than she’d expected. He was beside them in only a few lengthy strides, his looming presence reminding her vividly of their conversation in his room last night. Vanessa needed to learn to hold her tongue. “There a problem?”
She shook her head, but Vanessa quickly responded, “There is no room for us on the coach.”
“Now, see here, girlie.
That’s not what I said. There’s room enough.” The coachman looked annoyed now and, presumably seeing two fares slipping from his grip, yelled to driver, “Have one of the gentlemen inside give up his seat to these ladies.” The driver scowled but slid open the window behind him and murmured unintelligibly. Voices from the inside of the coach sounded resistant. People began to gather in the courtyard.
“My humble cart remains at your service, ladies.” Daniel’s voice sounded sincere, even guileless, and yet something in his expression made Helena sure he was laughing at her and deeply enjoying her discomfort.
She and Vanessa replied simultaneously.
“No, no, Mr. Lanfield. We couldn’t possibly—”
“Oh, Mr. Lanfield, we’d be obliged—”
Helena shot Vanessa her best Medusa face. Headstrong girl. “Vanessa, please. I am responsible for both of us. Mr. Lanfield, as I said before, your kindness is appreciated, but we really must move on.” She went to hand the coachman her bag.
“You’ll have to secure your own luggage, ma’am,” the coachman interjected. “There’s space for it in back.”
Vanessa blocked her way and grasped her arm, pulling her away from the others. In a fierce yet low voice, her niece said, “Auntie! What has come over you? You are always so prudent. But this is not wise. You’re being so unreasonable.” Her niece sounded startlingly distressed. She stopped. Vanessa’s face was pale, and her chin shook. “Please, Aunt Helena. I beg of you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “We know Mr. Lanfield is kind and won’t cause us harm. He’s certainly had plenty of opportunity. I don’t—the coach—I fear for our safety.”
It would be heartless of her to ignore her niece’s plea, to dismiss Vanessa’s intuition. She gave her niece’s hand a squeeze and nodded.
“It appears my niece feels rather unwell and is unable to ride in a coach today. I am deeply sorry for any inconvenience we have caused you and your passengers.”
The coachman scowled at her and immediately turned, shouting “Driver, make ready.” She caught wisps of mumbled curses and unflattering descriptions of pampered, selfish women. So be it. She couldn’t please everyone. In recent years, it seemed she couldn’t please anyone at all. Why should today be any different?