And she was not his Dru at all, he reminded himself firmly. She was Lady Drusilla Rudney. He should call her by her title as often as he could, to re-establish the distance between them. Seeing a woman’s legs did not entitle him to an intimate acquaintance.
Although grabbing her between those legs should have. Apparently, the peerage, when one got them alone in the dark, was a different sort of animal entirely. She had awoken the next morning showing no sign that the previous day had affected her at all. She’d combed the straw from her hair, splashed a bit of water in her face and declared herself ready to travel. And it had all been done without so much as a ‘Good morning, John’.
It had been Mr Hendricks this and Mr Hendricks that since the first night. And ‘a little farther before we stop, Mr Hendricks’ all this morning. Of course, now that he thought of it, she had never used his first name at all. That should have been a warning to him.
He had learned nothing at all by his experience. He had given a fine speech to her last night about knowing his place, and not repeating past mistakes. But it was all lies. In less than a week, he had transferred the affection he had felt for Emily to the next inappropriate female.
Of course, Dru was as unlike Emily as it was possible to be. Dark where Emily was pale. Cool where she had been warm, awkward where she had been graceful. And interested in him in a very personal way. She had shown more than a passionate response to his touches. She had been curious about him, sympathetic, and desired to be reassured that he would be well, even after they’d parted.
She cared.
Or she had last night. This morning, she seemed to have forgotten what had gone on between them and to be utterly indifferent to his presence. She was back to stalking the unfortunate Gervaise like she had ice in her veins.
And it was likely his own fault. If he had wanted more from her, then he should have declared his interest and not made a dramatic show of setting her free. He could have spared them both the pretty words about not overreaching and his plans to stick to his own class in the future. If she’d felt any lasting affection for him, he had crushed it with his reminders of the unbreachable distance between and his decisions to set up housekeeping on the other side of it.
This morning he should not be encouraging her to pursue a man who did not deserve her. When they’d come to an inn, he’d hopped off his horse and raced inside to hear that the elegant black carriage they were seeking was just ahead of them. After that, he’d persuaded her it was time to cast off his clothes and dress like a lady again before they came to another inn, reminding her that she did not want to catch up with the man looking like she’d spent two days in a haystack with him.
She had taken her bag down from her horse, stepped behind a hedge beside the road and he had stood guard, back politely turned so that he would not catch a glimpse of his employer’s delectable flesh. She’d reappeared a short time later in a travelling gown of deep green, braiding her long black hair so that she could pin it up under her bonnet.
He reached out and plucked another bit of hay from it, then stepped a respectful distance away.
She gave him a curt thank you, then said, without much confidence, ‘Is the rest of me all right? It has been so long since I’ve seen a mirror.’
‘Very fetching, Lady Drusilla. But straighten the bow on your bonnet. To the left. Just so.’ And when he was sure she was occupied with her ribbon, he tucked the hay into his pocket as a keepsake.
He’d helped her up on his horse to ride the last few miles to the inn where they would hire a carriage; he had tried not to think of the extremely sensible drop-front gowns she favoured. He’d enough experience with women to know that they were a boon to mankind. Without even undoing a button, he could slip a hand inside her bodice and bid her a proper goodbye.
Then he had reminded himself that the fact they were alone did not give him the right to take liberties. She was young, although she pretended that she was not. And a virgin, even though she was not as innocent as when he’d found her. She was not married, but she might as well have been. She had given her heart elsewhere.
Take it back. He could rein in the horse and tell her how he felt, pull her to the ground and prove to her that there was no need to chase an unwilling man all the way to Scotland, when there was one right beside her who would stick like a burr if she gave him a chance. Take her heart back and keep it for yourself.
And do what with her? Shout, ‘I love you. It has only been three days. And I am not worthy. But I am falling in love with you.’
Marry me.
He wished he could think of a way to make it all more palatable. They were well suited in temperament, used to being the ones pushed to the side and left to clean up the messes of others. That alone should have gained some sympathy from her. He understood her in a way that no other man could. He would make her happy, as she would him.
If he’d had savings, or family, or even a position…but no. Employment was likely to make it worse. ‘Come away with me, my darling, to my tiny room in Cheapside and live as a clerk’s wife.’ He winced at the banality of it. Perhaps he could beg his way back to Folbroke. They would probably allow him to bring a wife into the household, relieved that he would no longer be sniffing after the countess.
But what kind of future might that be for Dru? Not at all what she’d been raised to expect from marriage. She was trained to navigate flawlessly in society and control a large household staff while her husband made laws and collected rents gained from the labour of others. She would be equal in birth to his employers. Yet, because of him, she would always be set aside. There was no hope for them at all. No place for him in her life, other than as a lackey. And no place in his world that she could possibly want.
So he did nothing. She sat primly in front of him on the saddle and he touched her no more than was necessary, riding as quickly as he could for the next inn.
* * *
When they arrived, John dropped to the ground and steeled nerves that had been worn to tissue since he’d received that fateful kick on the ankle. Then he held out his arms and Dru slid from the horse and down his body to the ground. It would have been better to let her stumble than to ever touch her again. But touching her was far too nice and he was running out of reasons to do it.
And he’d sworn as her breasts grazed his chest that the nipples tightened to demonstrate their awareness of him, even though their owner did not. There was nothing in those huge dark eyes to indicate any arousal at all. Only a deeper furrowing of her brow, and a slight tightening of her lush lips. She probably thought it was a grimace of disapproval, but it only made them seem more kissable.
‘What are we to do now?’
‘You may wait in the parlour, my lady. Take refreshment. Relax and let me see to all. I will ask about the ones you seek and hire a post-chaise and driver.’
As he escorted her into a room already crowded with waiting travellers, he could see the wistful gratitude in her eyes at the thought of a soft chair and a cool drink. It made him wish that he’d had a right to put that small smile upon her face by offering something other than such a mundane service. Then he pushed the thought away, led her to her seat and went about his business, as he was paid to do it.
The hostler informed him that Mr Gervaise and his ‘sister’ had indeed stayed the previous night in his best room. The innkeeper gave a disapproving shake of his head that said that the girl was clearly no one’s sister, but that it was no business of his. The couple had argued endlessly, much to the annoyance of the other guests. The gentleman had ended the night shut out from his bed and asleep in a chair by the parlour fire. The girl had been slow in rising, and there had been much more fighting and slamming of doors to get her out of her bed and back into the carriage. But at last, they had gone, travelling northwards little more than an hour before.
If the cou
ple was the sort to dally, which it was obvious they were, then they might be found at the next stop, or perhaps the one after. John could feel the eagerness to be done, like an itch that must be scratched. They would catch up before they reached Scotland. Lady Drusilla would have her Frenchman back and they would tack a plaster on the wounded honour of the other girl. There would be much weeping all around; John would be left to nod sympathetically, get the coach turned around and get everyone back to London before their absences were noted.
It would be over. And he could pocket his earnings, open his flask and return to his original plan to drown his broken heart. But as God was his witness, he would ride on top with the driver before getting back in a closed carriage to sit opposite Dru and her lover. There was a limit to the extent his gentlemanly manners would carry him and he expected to reach it well before nightfall.
* * *
A short time later, after a visit to the stables, he was back before his lady to explain why everything could not be accomplished as promised.
‘If there is no chaise to let us, then get the innkeeper to give us more horses,’ she said. ‘I will don trousers again, and we can bump along as we have been.’
John shook his head. ‘I have seen the poor nags in the stable, and I doubt they will take us one mile, much less ten. All the beasts with any spirit are saved for harness, and the best of them are hitched to the Reliant, the coach that runs regularly on this stretch of road. It is waiting in the courtyard now.’
‘Then buy us two tickets for the stage.’ She gave him a stubborn smile as though wondering why he had not suggested the obvious solution.
‘It is full up,’ he said with equal mulishness. ‘And delayed to boot. The passengers surround you now. It seems the driver imbibed too deeply last night and has his head stuck in a slop bucket. He is in no condition to drive anyone anywhere, and unlikely to be so for several hours.’
Dru’s eyes narrowed, clearly looking for someone to blame. ‘You are telling me they are nearly in our grasp, we have money in our pocket and yet they will escape us?’
He gritted his teeth. All he had to say was ‘yes’, and offer an apology. The man she loved would slip through her fingers and over the border with another girl, leaving Drusilla angry, but free.
But free for what? There was no chance that he would have her. None at all. He would only be leaving her free for some other man. And if he was unfortunate, she would compliment his efforts to her father and he could stay on in the household to watch her marry another.
‘No,’ he said. ‘This is not the end, unless you wish it to be. How strong are your nerves?’
She smiled at him; there was the playful spark in her eyes that made his heart tighten. ‘You ought to know the answer to that by now.’
‘Then keep the innkeeper occupied, while I ready the horses. We will steal the coach.’
For a moment, he had surprised her. ‘You cannot mean it.’
‘You did not baulk at highway robbery when I begged you to reconsider. Do not tell me you are having second thoughts about a life of crime, just as I develop a taste for it.’
‘But who shall drive?’
He smiled at her and was pleased to see a flush on her cheeks and a slight dip of her head, as though she did not want to show him the excitement that was written plain on her face. ‘Just do as I say.’
Chapter Twelve
Dru kept one eye on the innkeeper, and circulated amongst the passengers, whispering that if they were up for an adventure and could get to their seats, the coach would be leaving directly. One by one they escaped into the courtyard; she watched Mr Hendricks slipping pound notes to the stable hands to keep them quiet, carefully checking harnesses and blinders, examining wheels and making sure that all was at the ready. Then he hopped up into the driver’s seat without letting go of the ribbons. He took up the whip and waited.
She ran for the carriage and he whistled to her, offering a hand to swing her up into the seat beside him. He gave a quick snap of the reins—they were on their way.
They were gaining speed, heading for the end of the stones and the beginning of the open road. Behind them, the coachman came roaring out of the taproom, and she turned to see the man shaking a fist and swearing.
‘May I suggest you cover your ears, Lady Drusilla? I fear the man behind us does not realise there is a lady present. And head down, please.’ He reached over and forced her to duck as they went under the stone arch that marked the edge of the coach yard, then released her, letting her spring erect again like a bent reed.
She looked behind her at the rapidly disappearing inn, then in front of her, then at him again. ‘You drive four in hand?’ she said, unable to contain a gasp of feminine admiration that would have done Priss proud.
‘When I was a wag at Cambridge, I was considered the best of my lot at foolish stunts like this,’ he answered calmly, keeping an eye on the horses. ‘It will be more work for you than riding, but far more comfortable. And if you do as I say, we shall make quite good time. I expect we will find your friend within the hour. Then we shall see if Mr Gervaise is quite the man you remember him to be.’
That was an odd remark. She remembered Gervaise to be pretty, but soft and useless. She doubted he had changed a bit in three days. She glanced again at the man next to her, as he gave a smart crack of the whip to speed the horses. She sighed happily. Gervaise certainly would not have been able to drive himself to Scotland. She dared not tell her sister how they’d made the last leg of the journey. A man that could handle the ribbons as her Mr Hendricks was doing could likely dance as well. And manage an elopement without getting caught. When Priss learned of that, poor Gervaise would be out on the street and Hendricks would be left fighting to save his honour.
He cracked the whip over the horses’ heads again, and said, ‘Keep your reticule handy, my lady, for there are likely to be tollgates. It is up to you to pay, and to keep a watch on the passengers, while I manage the team. And if you can learn to blow the horn to warn oncoming traffic, as well? I think you will make an admirable guard.’
The wind was buffeting her bonnet, so she removed it and placed it behind her feet, letting the breeze blow the pins from her hair. The sun was touching her cheeks and there was a strong and handsome man at her side. It was bittersweet to think it was almost at an end. But the moment was glorious. So she smiled, and persuaded herself that it was a lark he’d arranged, just to amuse her. ‘Mr Hendricks, is there anything that you cannot do?’
‘It is a wonder what can be accomplished, if one only tries,’ he said, as modestly as possible. ‘And being born with fewer opportunities gives one reason to dare.’
As he stared down the road, his spectacles slipped down the bridge of his nose. And without another thought, she reached out a finger and adjusted them for him. Then she blurted the truth.
‘I beg your pardon?’ he said, tipping his head to the side to better catch the words.
‘It was nothing important,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I was wondering how fast we were going.’
As they took the next turn in the road, the carriage rocked dramatically to the side, and he slipped his arm around her waist for a moment to keep her from sliding off the seat. Behind him, she could hear the angry mutters of the passengers, and offered a silent prayer that they would arrive in one piece and hear no complaints about the inexperience of the driver.
‘We are going as fast as we are able and somewhat faster than the coachman would have gone. At least eleven miles an hour, I think. But do not worry, I will have us there safely.’
Dru gave him a satisfied nod, and turned her attention to learning the coach horn, afraid that she would speak again, where the road was quiet and he might hear the truth.
I love you.
She might have managed to turn the words into a stat
ement of respect for his abilities, which were prodigious. But more likely she’d have clung to him like a foolish girl, and said it again with the sort of sheep-eyed expression that made her near to nauseous when she saw it on others. Now, at least, she could understand the reason for it and the idea that it really was possible to fall in a swoon of rapture, as she nearly had in the hayfield. She was in love with Mr Hendricks. And when he left her, she would weep as loudly as any girl in London.
They took another turn and she grabbed for his coat tails with one hand and raised the carriage horn to her lips with the other. The best she could manage was a gooselike squawk and not the sprightly tunes that some guards could play. But if there were obstructions in the way, it was better to give them some sort of warning and she must do her best.
Of course, puckering her lips on the mouthpiece made her think of kissing. And kissing would, now and for ever, make her think of Mr Hendricks.
In response to her grab for him, he caught her waist again and held her until danger was past. It was so like him that it made her want to cry in frustration. If he had not been there, every step of the way, smoothing her path, seeing to her comfort and making her happy, she would not be thinking such foolish thoughts now.
And none of it had meant anything to him. He was an employee. A servant. He had been doing his job. Her father would pay him, he would leave and that would be the end of it. Unless, of course, she went to her father and insisted that he be kept on in some permanent way, so that she could have his company whenever she liked.
Although what he would do, she had no idea. Father already had clerks and secretaries and stewards enough. And she could not exactly ask for a manservant of her own.
Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin Page 12