A Curious Heart (Love Vine: A Regency Series)

by Diane Davis White

  "Oh? Well, then, perhaps we should seek such a place for our own honeymoon." She dimpled at him and came up from her chair, just as he did. They embraced warmly, content in their love.

  * * * * *

  In the garden, Griffin and Allie gazed pensively at one another, their hands clasped as they stood beneath the spreading arms of an old elm tree. The breeze gently lifted her amber curls, fluttering the colorful ribbons.

  Griffin smoothed back one pale rose ribbon from her cheek, his hand then straying to trace the contour of her lips. His mouth soon followed that path. Attentively, he nipped at her lower lip, then as her mouth opened to him, he pressed his assault until they were clasped in a melting embrace.

  Unable to stand another moment of distress born of unconsummated passion, Griffin put Allie away from him with a ragged sigh. When she leaned into his embrace, he gripped her arms gently, moving her back.

  "You have not answered me yet about my proposal." He grinned at her, knowing full well he had occupied her lips in such a way that she could not have answered him, had she tried. "Do you or do you not want to wed as soon as possible?"

  "Griffin, I want that above all things but I also know that you are only pushing this forward for me." She gazed at him, her sapphire eyes troubled, then looked away, speaking in a near whisper. "I would not want you to miss those opportunities that would further your career. And should we wed now, you might. I know you are worried about it—"

  "Never mind that now! I have offered and you either accept or not. Which is it?" He was anxious to have this done, and know their future one way or another. Unfortunately, Griffin was short on patience—being young and headstrong—and had no finesse in these matters.

  He saw tears gather in her eyes as she stiffened and drew away. Griffin became instantly contrite, softening his voice. "What I mean, dearest Allie, is that I have thought this over very carefully. I do believe we would do better to wed in the fall after term has ended."

  "But what of—" Allie halted when he put a fingertip to her lips.

  "Your brother has offered me a position in one of his offices in Manchester with a generous salary. When the new term starts, we'll simply move back to Cambridge. Since it will be my last term, you will only have to endure a grumpy, harassed student for a short while."

  "It does sound so very tempting. Oh, Griffin, if you are sure?" I have been very lonely without you."

  She turned to him again, relaxing as he gathered her close and hugged her. "I am as sure as any man can be. Say yes now and stop dithering, Love. You try my patience—of which I have very little."

  He squeezed her affectionately and looked down at her, his face suddenly grave and anxious. "I find that life without you is unbearably lonely as well."

  "Yes, then. Yes. I shall be glad to marry you in the fall." When she smiled, the small dimple in her cheek drew his attention and he just had to kiss that spot, which led to other kisses and some very intimate caresses. Between kisses, they began to plan for the future.

  "Griffin, do you think we could honeymoon here? I truly like the ambiance, it's so peaceful." She looked around the garden with great satisfaction. "I overheard Mr. Jennings telling Gordon he could have his honeymoon here. The Jennings' enjoy these events. What do you think?"

  "I will go anywhere you ask, and in truth, I like it here well enough." He ogled her with a scorching leer and wiggled his eyebrows in perfect imitation of his cousin's clowning. "But I care not where we are on our honeymoon, as long as we are completely alone."

  Laughing at his posturing, Allie spoke of the cottage, a certain slyness in her voice. "I would that we could use this cottage everyone talks about. It would certainly give us the seclusion you seem to crave."

  "As I said, Allie M'dear, I will do anything you wish. Just tell me what you want, and I will endeavor to provide it." He smiled at her, but hearing his own words, he became serious and a little sad.

  "You know there is much I will not be able to provide for a very long time in the way of material things, even with the added allowance from my father and Rothburn. Nothing like that to which you are now accustomed."

  "All I want is a new gown once a month, a baby in the spring and perhaps a new bonnet to match each gown."

  She teased him and watched his face grow red at the mention of a baby. It amused her to see her scholarly swain so discomfited when they spoke of the more intimate details of their marriage. Though she was a shy virgin, Allie would prove a very lusty wife and knew it well.

  Having been stirred by the erotic images her comment brought to mind, Griffin was hard put not to pull her into the bushes—as he once had been accused of—but common sense prevailed. He reluctantly set her from him as he told her, "We must go inside, for I cannot be held responsible. I am but flesh and blood, and you tempt me beyond measure."

  "Very well then. Let us talk about what work you will be doing for Gordon. I want to share everything with you, even help you with your studies, should you wish it."

  "I am sure that you will come in quite handy as a wife and a tutor. But, truth be told, I'm not sure what I will do in Manchester. He mentioned learning the shipping trade in textiles, but other than that I am in the dark."

  Allie then began to ask about the papers he had brought with him, and encouraged by her ready knowledge and quick mind, Griffin let the conversation go in that direction. His condition was such that he was very uncomfortable and he needed to be distracted from his erotic thoughts.

  They lingered in the garden as long as they could, but when her brother—somewhat irritated by having to search for them—came to fetch the pair, they moved with great reluctance to return to their separate lives. Their only consoling thought was in a few months they would be wed.

  Telling Sir Gordon of their plans, the couple was animated and full of joy, so that the trip home promised to be a happy event for anyone riding in the carriage with them.

  The blooded mount that Rothburn had put at Griffin's disposal was tied to the back of the lead carriage and he climbed inside with his betrothed, his future brother-in-law and Lady Eleanor. They were a merry foursome as the horses started up, and their laughter and chatter could be heard by all.

  To make a perfect group, it wanted only the presence of Rothburn's ready wit and Lady Alana's reprimands when he overdid his foolishness. Sir Gordon remarked upon it and everyone agreed they were missed greatly.

  Rothburn and Alana had become famous for their public squabbling, though in truth, it was all in fun and everyone knew it. There were varying opinions as to which of them had the readiest wit, but they all allowed that the Rothburn's were a most entertaining couple.

  An hour into the journey, dark menacing clouds had begun to form in the east, blocking the sun and darkening the skies. The low rumble of thunder was soon heard and distant strikes of lightning could be seen by the passengers, making them anxious to be under shelter before the blow.

  Sir Gordon called out to his coachman to hurry along. The man had eyes and had already determined to hurry, being on the box and exposed to the weather as he was. The carriages behind picked up as well, just as the wind began to rise, blowing the storm in their direct path. This was no small spring shower but a menacing gale. In a matter of moments it was dark enough to light the lanterns on the carriages for safety.

  * * * * *

  In the small cottage in the woods, Rothburn and Lady Alana listened to the rain pattering against their cozy retreat, their feet to the fire as they sipped mulled wine. When a particularly loud crash of thunder followed a strike of lightning nearby, they both jumped up and went to the windows, aware that this was no mere light shower.

  As they stood, arms wrapped 'round one another, the rain began in earnest, beating upon the thatched roof, slashing against the window so they could barely see out.

  Rothburn peered through the muddy runnels of rain on the small window. "I say, I do hope everyone left in plenty of time to get to the Boar's Head before this started up. It appea
rs to be running toward London, so I'm sure it has caught up with them, if not."

  He looked up as the thunder seemed to pound the ground, shaking the very walls. "Maybe we should have stayed at the big house."

  "Maybe." Lady Alana—her voice carefully casual—looked up as well, as though expecting the roof to cave, but held her voice steady, for she was not a woman to fear so small a thing as thunder.

  Besides, if she showed any concern, she knew that he'd be upset with himself for allowing them to come, and so only commented lightly, "I fear it is much too late to worry about that and so we should just be glad for this shelter."

  She grinned at him and added, "Maybe we can pretend we are strangers who have sheltered here and have just met."

  Swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat at her words, the earl grinned back, his hands coming up to caress her face. "I do so love a good play. Whom shall I be? Perhaps I shall be a menacing highwayman, coming home after robbing the coach and kidnapping you."

  Warming to his subject, Rothburn allowed his imagination to take hold, his love of theatrics coming to the fore. "Let us say that your horse had bolted and I found you lying in the ditch, covered with mud, and brought you here."

  "Covered in mud? Well, that would call for a bath, don't you think?" She winked at him and walked with swaying hips to the bedroom, turning back to gaze at him in a sultry manner. "There is a copper tub in here, but someone will have to heat the water, for a cold bath is not to my liking."

  Rothburn searched frantically for something in which to heat water. Grabbing a bucket, he went out into the driving rain to the well. His arms ached from lugging the copper tub to place it before the fire, and toting the many buckets of water. He was drenched as well, from his trips to the pump in the yard. Before he had done, he acquired a new respect for the servants who had always performed these chores on his behalf.

  Since he'd nearly turned blue from the cold, she insisted he be the one rescued. He needed the hot bath more than she did, being muddy, in truth.

  Rothburn complained that she could not rescue him, for he could not very well be a romantic hero if she did, and grumbled about the unfairness of it all. In the end, they both managed to get in the tub but much of the water splashed over the sides, and all Rothburn's efforts were for naught.

  There was not much water left in which to bathe, but they made the best of it. Soon they were blissfully unaware of anything but each other. Their cozy world, made more so by the raging storm outside, gave them the privacy needed to enjoy each other and explore new vistas of pleasure.

  * * * * *

  The Brighton road was filled with muddy ruts. The weather—as predicted—had turned nasty. The caravan of London-bound travelers, anxious to get to the nearest posting inn to secure a bed for the night, picked up more speed.

  Though their pace was dangerous on the mucky river that had once been the road, they pressed on. Forced to slow at times, as the horses were wont to be skittish, the full force of the storm came upon them long before they reached their destination.

  The sky—dark with rain and thunder—rumbled with occasional flashes of lightning. The wind drove a blinding deluge in huge sheets across the land. Horses skidded in the deep slush of slippery mud, causing a frightful amount of cursing by the coachman. Lightning struck close to the road and the lead carriage careened sideways. The panicked horses bolted and threw the coachman into the bramble bushes nearby.

  The carriages behind were barely able to avoid colliding with one another as the drivers strove to keep their cattle calm and the procession came to a halt as the front carriage wavered on two wheels. It seemed to hover there and looked as though it would right itself, but the lightning struck once more, hitting a tree.

  Thrashing wildly in the wind, broken branches pushed the carriage toward the deep ditch that ran alongside the highway. It finally skidded to a halt, tilted at a precariously dangerous angle, not quite on its side. The horses screamed in fright, but held by their traces, they could only strain against them futilely. Their hooves fought for purchase on the slippery ground, their movement shaking the coach.

  Complete silence prevailed momentarily as the wind stopped and the driving rain subsided. The rescuers gathered in the road emitted a collective sigh of relief. Then with sudden fury the wind whipped up again and the rain with it, thoroughly soaking those exposed to the elements.

  The coachman who had been thrown into the brambles slowly crawled on hands and knees back into the middle of the road. He barely missed being crushed by the stamping horses. Only the timely intervention of a quick-witted footman grabbing the reins kept him from further harm.

  Sir Gordon and Griffin looked at each other in alarm as their coach began to slide sideways. Griffin, reaching for Allie, was thrown against the door as the vehicle began to upend and he shouted over the noise of the screaming horses, "Hold the strap, Allie!"

  His words were lost in the crashing noise as the lightning-struck tree broke free from the earth. It smashed against the side of the conveyance, aiding the tilt. Sir Gordon kept his arms tightly about Lady Eleanor as they slid across the seat.

  Allie lost her grip on the strap and fell into them. As she went tumbling, her temple collided with the broken edge of the windowsill and her world went black.

  Pandemonium broke out, with people screaming, horses shying and men scrambling to get to the carriage and rescue the trapped passengers. The tree that felled them was huge. They had no tools, only the horses which could be used to drag it off the overturned carriage.

  The hapless foursome stayed in their awkward position for what seemed an eternity. Finally the door was lifted open and they looked up into the driving rain, and the wonderful sight of their rescuers.

  Two burley footmen reached in and gathered Allie from the top of the tangle of arms and legs. One by one, the others were rescued.

  * * * * *

  It had taken six men and two teams of horses over three hours to get them out of the conveyance and into the other coaches. It was near midnight before they reached the nearest posting inn, which was almost fourteen miles further down the road.

  By the time the bedraggled group arrived, the inn was full to bursting with other waylaid travelers. It took a goodly sum to get clean dry beds for the wounded by taking over the innkeeper's apartments.

  Hearing of their misfortune, several gentlemen gave up their rooms to the ladies. The men in the group made do with pallets in the private rooms normally used for dining—sharing with those generous fellows.

  Sir Gordon sustained badly damaged ribs and numerous contusions. Lady Eleanor, though badly shaken and bruised, seemed unharmed. Griffin's head ached and his shoulder wrenched, but he was mobile.

  Allie, pulled unconscious from the wreck, a bruise on her temple bespeaking some damage, remained inert. Griffin had to be vigorously persuaded from her side, for it was unseemly, he was told, to stay in a lady's bedroom, injured though she might be.

  Protesting hotly, he was ushered away by Lady Susan and Lord Avonleigh—who, in spite of his years, had a very beefy arm. After a strong dose of brandy, he subsided, then slept for awhile.

  It could have been the small drop of laudanum Lady Susan had poured into his libation that felled him. More likely it was a belated onset of shock. Griffin looked quite done in.

  Satisfied her nephew would cause no more disturbance in the sick room, Lady Susan returned to Allie. She sat with her through the night, along with two other ladies who had been afforded space in the room.

  Since no more beds would fit the small room, the innkeeper's wife had brought thick quilts—to make nice pallets for their comfort. The kindly woman bustled about, taking charge and for once in her life Lady Susan, Countess of Rothburn, was content to allow someone else the reins.

  The Earl and Countess of Avonleigh sat at their daughter's bedside through the night. Lady Janice alternately wept and prayed, irritating Lady Eleanor no end—though she could not say so.

&nb
sp; Awakened innumerable times, she kindly begged them to rest, so she could as well.

  Her mother agreed to lie down next to her and promptly slept. Her snoring, coupled with that of Lord Avonleigh—sprawled in a chair—kept Lady Eleanor awake for a long time thereafter.

  Lady Eleanor was concerned about Sir Gordon. He'd come to see her—against all advice—to reassure her he had only minor injuries.

  Still, he had looked to be in a deal of pain, his face pale beneath the bruises, and he'd stayed only a few minutes before retiring to the bed down the hall. She thought he hid much from her regarding his injuries. She smiled to think he'd be so careful of her.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  ~~

  Allie's condition continued grave for two more days and so a small portion of the original group stayed on. Most of the travelers had gone ahead, not without some misgivings. Still, it seemed unnecessary to keep so large an entourage in such cramped space and in the end, they left.

  Countess Rothburn, Sir Gordon and the Avonleigh's, along with Griffin sat for long hours, waiting for the girl to come 'round. The doctor had been sent for. He pronounced her pulse rate good, her color quite normal and diagnosed a concussion.

  "Head injuries sometimes take awhile, but she seems sound enough so I would not take alarm as yet. I'll be back this afternoon and if you need me before then, send someone from the inn. They have my direction."

  The portly, red-faced physician departed on that note, having done little more than they could to determine the extent of her injuries. It was a comfort though, to have had his reassurance and they all breathed easier.

  Excepting Griffin—of course—who would not be comforted and drove them all insane with his pacing and fretting. Finally undone by his ceaseless worrying, the ladies begged Lord Avonleigh to take him to the tap room, relieving them of his company.

  It took some persuasion, but the earl persisted. To overwrought to protest further, Griffin eventually caved, however reluctantly.