The man accepted the offer, stood up, then brushed off the seat of his pants. Julian was surprised when the coachman offered a handshake.
"The name's Shelton," he said. "Since you're so hell-bent on being the lady's guard, I s'pose we ought to introduce ourselves."
Julian warily took the man's hand and shook it. "Julian," he replied.
"I won't be asking how you got that swollen face, Julian, but you're obviously able to hold your own. So glad I am you'll be joining us for the ride back to London. Come on," he said, releasing his hold on Julian's hand. "We can talk while we head to the stables."
Julian sized up the man, unable to trust the change in him.
"Are you coming or not?" Shelton grumbled in a gruff tone that sounded surprisingly friendly.
"Coming to be sure, but I must say I am surprised at the change in your manner."
"I'm not so terrible, though I've been paid to be a frightening presence to Earl Wrothram's daughters. Was told to keep them under thumb and didn't have much say in the matter." He started walking.
Julian followed.
"I'll tell you this much," Shelton continued. "I haven't had an easy time of it since Lady Veronica came to Town with her sister. She's always sneaking out of her father's house, she is, running hither and yon 'bout London, and her father yelling to me that he doesn't trust her. I had no choice but to follow her, to be gruff with her. But in my heart of hearts, truth be known, I never did believe the young lady was up to no good. And I never could understand why she wasn't claimed right fast by some swell and swept toward the altar."
"So why hasn't she—been led to the altar, that is?" Julian asked.
Shelton shrugged his huge shoulders. "Can't say. The lady doesn't exactly confide in me, o' course. I got an opinion, though."
"And that is?"
"I think she's decided never to marry. To be independent. No doubt it's because she's known the heavy hand of her father and wishes naught to spend her adult life as she has her childhood."
"And how was her childhood?" Julian asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
"Rough, I gather. She was but ten when her mother died, though I can't say as though Countess Wrothram was probably ever one to be mothering any child. Had a liking for laudanum, and before that for any man other than the earl."
"How horrid," Julian breathed.
"Now Lady Veronica's father," Shelton went on, clearly glad to finally be sharing his thoughts with someone, "he seems to think the reason she's taken no marriage offers is because she's sullied herself with more than one man. But me, I never could be believing such a thing, though there were times—such as when I found her at the abbey—that I had to take pause and wonder."
They were now nearing the stables.
"I've always believed in the lady's innocence," Shelton continued, "but her father's suspicions and cruel treatment of her made me think I was wanting to see something in her that wasn't there. And... and of course," Shelton added, almost guiltily, "the man pays me a heavy bit to dog his daughter's every step."
Julian let out a grunt of disgust. "The man must be a devil."
"Aye, there are those in Society what call him that. Just between us, his bad temperament has been fueled by his dead wife's wantonness those many years past. Once she'd tamed her wildness, the countess spent her last days in her chambers, taking no visitors other than her physician, since he kept her supplied with her drug. Lady Veronica and her sister never had much love from their parents. The earl moved to London the day his wife was laid to rest. Left his daughters in the care of some aged governess.
"He was glad enough to keep them tucked away at one of his country estates. Only when they reached a marrying age did he bring the gels to London. His oldest daughter, Lady Lily, she made quite a splash her first time out, got some offers, too, but only from rakes looking to line their pockets. The earl turned them all away. But Lady Veronica, ah, now she made an even bigger splash, had some fine offers, too. Earl Wrothram, though, he nipped 'em all in the bud. Said she'd not be marrying until he decided and she seemed none too eager to gainsay him, though there was one young buck she might have taken a shine to."
"Who?" Julian heard himself ask, with a little too much interest.
Shelton thought for a minute, then frowned. "Can't recall his name. Some blond fellow, rather tame. Not too high in the instep. She seemed to like his gentleness, but after a heated argument with her father, she ignored even him."
Julian stared straight ahead, his gut clenching. Could this be the person for whom she'd come to Yorkshire on a mission? Did she love him? Had she ever shared a kiss with him? Was she even now eager to return to Town to see him, to deliver to him in private the package she'd been so set on finding?
Julian brought his mind back to the present. Shelton was still talking. "... and because the earl took himself off to Bath for a few weeks is the only reason Lady Veronica dared to come to Yorkshire. She'd never have managed such a scheme had her father been in residence."
Julian blinked, trying to catch up with the conversation. "So Lord Wrothram is that beastly to his daughter?"
"Aye," Shelton replied. "But not nearly as brutal as he used to be, when she was but a young girl—or so I've been told. Like I said, she hasn't always lived in London with him. Lady Wrothram, in the past, was wont to travel from one holding to the other, never finding one to her he liking, but she finally settled down in Devonshire one year, and stayed there until she died. Lady Veronica and her sister reluctantly came to London little more than a year and a half ago for Lady Lily's come-out."
"And Lady Veronica?" Julian asked. "When was her first Season?"
"Just this past spring, though she'd as like have rather gone to the devil and supped with him instead, I s'pose. She hates Town life, I believe... or mayhap it's just being under his lordship's tight rule that she hates."
"I shouldn't wonder why," groused Julian. He came to a halt just before they crossed the lane to the stables. "Can I take it," he asked, "that the two of us might be able to endeavor to protect the lady we've both come to admire and care about? Though you've been doing her father's bidding, Shelton, I see in you a hankering to protect and believe in her. Am I right?"
Shelton reached up with one meaty fist to tug his collar from his neck. "Aye," he said, with meaning in his tone, "though I've played the devil's advocate with Lady Veronica for far too long, you are right about that; I do care about her. And I do think that, no matter what else she discovered at Fountains, she found a true friend in you. And it is a true and honest friend she'll be needing should the earl ever learn of her sojourn here—though he'll not be hearing it from these lips."
Julian nodded at the man. "Glad I am to hear you say that, Shelton." He motioned toward the stable yards, where several hostlers and postilions made quick work of hitching the many cattle into the traces of various kinds of rigs and chariots. "Shall we go? We've a long way before we reach London."
"Aye, too many miles," Shelton said. "But you'll no doubt be impressed with her ladyship's carriage. Smart and fleet it is, designed to have four cattle at its head. The road back to London won't be so long, given the carriage's light weight and the prime cattle we'll hitch to it along the way. Earl Wrothram spares no expense—not even for the daughter he thinks is a light skirt."
Julian winced at that last remark, but followed Shelton nonetheless. They'd come to an understanding, he and this brute of a coachman. Julian was glad.
Far better it would be to ride the Great North Road back to the heart of London with Shelton as his ally instead of his enemy. With the coachman's blunderbuss and brawn, and with Julian's dogged determination and fearlessness, they might actually see Veronica delivered safely back home—and directly into the arms of the "friend" she was reluctant to name... a person who might even be the one man Veronica had thought to marry.
Less than an hour later, Julian watched as Veronica, garbed in a travelling dress of the prettiest lilac, and accompanied by her
abigail, made her way toward the smart carriage with its team of four. The carriage's colors of maroon and gold flamed in the early morning light.
Julian sat astride his own mount, the beast showing eager signs to be on the open road.
"Good morning, my lady," Julian said to Veronica, wishing now that he had a proper hat atop his head so that he could tip it her way in gentlemanly fashion. But alas he was clothed in his threadbare shirt and breeches, scuffed boot, and little else. With no hat to tip, he leaned slightly forward at the waist, hoping to convey to her with that small gesture that he'd not be acting like the lowly beast she must think him to be. As he did so, the ends of the ribbon he'd been bequeathed by the inn's maid lifted slightly with the breeze, playing atop each of his broad shoulders.
Veronica glanced up at Julian from beneath the wide brim of her straw hat, trimmed around the crown with flouncy ostrich plumes. If she was surprised by the pricey horseflesh he sat atop, she made no show of it. Julian caught a glimpse of those stunning violet eyes of hers, saw the way her kissable mouth pursed briefly as she contemplated how much or how little he might be saying in front of her servants, and then, with a quick answering nod toward him, looked away.
"Oh, m'lady," Julian heard the abigail exclaim, "d'not say 'at dang'rous strang'r frum last night be joinin' us on our jo'rney 'ome!"
"Very well," he heard Veronica reply. "I'll not be saying it, Nettie. Now do climb inside while I speak with Shelton."
The maid cast a wide-eyed glance up at Julian, then scurried to climb the iron steps Shelton had let down from the carriage.
Veronica looked at her coachman, lifting her chin in what could only be a brave bit of daring. "I-I have hired this man to be our guard during our journey home, Shelton. Given all that could beset us over the many miles back to Town, I-I thought it would be best."
"Very good, my lady," Shelton replied, doing his best to maintain a stony face.
Julian noted Veronica's brief hesitation at her coachman's docile attitude. Carefully, she added, "I... I may even keep the man in my employ once we reach London."
For good measure the coachman appeared as though he would protest mightily and question her decision, but then nodded, and said simply, "Aye, my lady. As you see fit."
Veronica cast the man a quizzical glance, clearly surprised by his response. She'd doubtless expected him to give her a difficult time and to prove to be a brick wall.
Shelton merely stood still, awaiting the moment when she climbed into the carriage. Veronica, casting another glance at Julian from beneath the brim of her bonnet, did just that.
Shelton lifted the steps back into place, shut the door, then moved to climb atop his box, taking up his whip as he did so.
In the next moment, the coachman urged the horses into motion, and the smart carriage sprang forward, away from the Red Lion Inn and heading south to London, Julian riding at a brisk pace behind.
Chapter 11
A fuming Veronica sat stiffly atop the rich leather squabs inside her carriage, staring straight ahead and feeling absolutely furious. After a long, restless night of fretting about how she would approach with Shelton the subject of Julian being her guard, and equally long hours and reflecting about her wanton thoughts and reactions whenever she was in the Julian's presence, what should she come out of the inn to find? Her coachman acting like some docile bit of mash... and Julian—oh, Julian—astride some fancy bloodstock that could only have been purchased at Tattersall's (or stolen from some swell who had purchased the beast there) looking smug and as cleaned up as a shiny new penny!
To think she'd wasted an entire night of sleep fussing about the man, wondering if he was comfortable outside her door, wondering if he'd be set upon by those thugs again while keeping watch over her, worrying about his hearing and if the beating he'd taken could have caused him serious damage, worrying about his eye and if he'd be able to see clearly once the swelling went down... and—and thinking, blast it all, about every breath she could hear him draw at the other side of her door.
Clearly she shouldn't have bothered to worry one second over his welfare. He seemed to have fared perfectly well on his own!
Did the man have to appear so blasted refreshed this morning, as though he'd slept the sleep of the innocent and not the damned, and had just partaken of a king's feast? He'd somehow managed to tear himself away from the ridiculous business of being her personal guard long enough to clean himself up. And that ribbon in his hair—where on earth had he managed to procure that? she wondered, angry at herself for thinking him far too handsome with his black locks pulled back, one lone wave falling rakishly over his battered eye. And drat her own traitorous body for responding to the sight of him like some lovesick chit!
"He be ev'r so 'andsome," said Nettie, as though reading her lady's thoughts and nodding in perfect agreement.
"What? Who?" Veronica demanded.
"The man you found to guard us back to Town, o' course. Where'v'r did y' find 'im?"
Beneath a rock, Veronica wanted to say, and I welcome him to climb back under it!
Nettie, however, did not wait for her lady to answer; her attention was now focused on the window—or rather, the person she could see through the small pane.
"Yer guard, 'e be ridin' fer the road in front of us, no doubt t' check fer 'ighwaymen and the like." Nettie let out a sigh, thoroughly enchanted. "Not only 'andsome but brave, too. Stop me, m'lady, but y' sh'ld be 'irin' all the servants, I vow, if this be proof of yer fine taste in such matters."
"Really, Nettie. That is quite enough."
The abigail wasn't listening. In a rash heat of excitement, the girl let down the window, then stuck her head fully out, her poke bonnet banging against the top side of it as she did so. "Sir," she called to Julian, no doubt sending him a silly, moon-eyed smile. "I never be seein' such a fine horse, I swears! Howev'r did y' come by it?"
Julian leaned down, running one large and gloved hand over his horse's sleek black neck. "'Twas a gift, mistress," he said, sending the maid a jaunty smile. He met Veronica's furious gaze over the girl's bonnet, then added, "A gift from a friend... one who did not even expect me to, say, perform a mission for it."
"Oh," breathed Nettie, clearly enthralled, "we sh'ld all 'ave such fine friends, sir."
"Yes," agreed Julian. "We should indeed." And again, his darkling gaze met with Veronica's.
His meaning was not lost on her.
"That's enough, Nettie," Veronica snapped. "Do get your body back in here, sit down, and—and behave yourself. I'll not have you hanging out the window, ogling the man, or even talking to him. 'Tis unseemly."
"Yes, m'lady," said Nettie, chastened. She slid once again down onto the seat, plopped her body back against the squabs and remained sullenly quiet.
But Nettie was correct. Julian's mount was indeed a pricey one and not at all in keeping with what one would expect of a lowly riverkeep who dwelled in the prisons of some ruinous abbey. Had he stolen the animal, expensive saddle and all—plus the fine gloves he was now wearing? Was this dangerous stranger a thief of the highest order?
It did not bear thinking of all Julian could be or have done; the possibilities were endless and Veronica had known that fact from the first moment she'd met him.
No, what bothered her most at the moment was that Julian had somehow managed to worm his way into the good graces of her coachman. That Nettie had taken a quick shine to him was not so remarkable. The girl's head would turn at any handsome face, no matter how bruised and cut. But Shelton, he was much more worldly wise than her fanciful abigail, which left Veronica with only one conclusion. The two of them had doubtless met up at some point between darkness and dawn, and had come to some sort of an agreement.
Could Shelton have struck a bargain with Julian, cajoling him with promises of heavy payment to go before her father and tell all of what had happened at Fountains?
Veronica's blood went cold at the possibility. What her father would do, if he ever learned of her s
ojourn north, she didn't even dare consider. His cruelty to her during her youth would probably pale in comparison....
Veronica vowed to herself that before they reached London she would have a strong word alone with Julian.
* * *
It was at Grantham, finally, that Veronica, dressed in her riding habit, hired a hack and determined to ride to the next stage at Stamford alongside Julian. She was not surprised when Shelton allowed her her head in this decision.
An audience with the Prince Regent would doubtless have been easier to orchestrate than a private moment with Julian during this journey back to London. Over the many miles they'd traveled since Ripon and the many stages they'd paused at, Julian had thoroughly charmed her abigail and appeared to have won over the prickly Shelton. With a grace that seemed to come easily to him he had won the undying respect of every innkeep, ostler, serving maid, and chambermaid with whom they came in contact. His growing popularity incensed Veronica no small amount.
She urged her rented saddle horse into motion, hurrying to catch up.
"You might consider slowing your pace," she called to Julian. "I am trying to have a word with you—and have been since we left Ripon."
Julian glanced back, slowing his beast to an easy stride at sight of her. "My lady," he said, inclining his head slightly in greeting, even tipping the low-crowned hat he'd somehow procured during their travels. The thing was of dubious origin, brown in color, and sported a single fresh rose, probably passed to him by some admiring young maid. "If you wished to speak with me, my lady, all you had to do was say so. As I recall from our conversation at the inn, I am to do as you demand whenever you deign... something akin to a—what was it? Ah, yes, a slave."
Rude of him to remind her—and blast it, the idea of his being her slave had been his, not hers.
"Oh?" Veronica replied instead, sounding churlish even to her own ears. "And when, pray, have you even offered me that chance? It appears you've been far too busy with all your admirers along the road. And by the bye, whatever were you doing outside the private parlour while I dined last evening?"
A Dangerous Courtship (To Woo an Heiress, Book 3) Page 12