Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 04]

by Courtesan's Kiss

  She fell asleep, awash in self-pity, desperate to find a way to live life on her terms.

  Chapter Seven

  “NO, LORD DAVID,” Mia Castellano insisted, “I have no idea how long my maid will be ill and I will not wait here until she can travel. Travel sickness is a burden to Janina and when she is ill she prefers to be alone. It is one of the reasons I rode with the coachman yesterday.”

  David could see that this “No” was not halfhearted. They were in the same parlor they had shared last night and had managed a polite if silent breakfast until he had suggested, quite generously he thought, that they delay a day until her maid was well again. He could work anywhere. He finished his coffee and poured more from the pot.

  “One day will not be enough. She seems much worse than usual and I would estimate a week before she can travel. You will leave me behind long before that.”

  “How perceptive.”

  She stood up as though she had enough of the discussion. “Janina is very important to me. I will find someone to care for her and she will stay here until she recovers and is able to join us later.”

  David could see that she would not budge. But if he let her have her way this time, he feared there would be no end to the demands she would make.

  “Be reasonable, Lord David,” she began.

  “I am always reasonable,” he interrupted, exasperated beyond endurance. “We will wait one day,” he said again, this time much more firmly.

  “No,” she repeated with an irritated edge in the one word. “If the entire party stays behind it will only add more pressure for her to recover. Janina will pretend she is well and will most likely not recover for months. I will not endanger her health that way.”

  “So you are willing to travel without a maid and risk another scene like last night?” The woman was a confusing mix of spoiled and generous. Impossible to understand or predict how she would react to anything.

  “My lord.”

  The way she said his name made it sound like she doubted his intelligence. He nodded.

  “We are stopping at a Pennistan holding this evening, are we not?”

  “Sandleton. Yes, we are.”

  “Sandleton. Thank you.” Her nod was as queenly as her “No” had been shrewish. “I am sure there is a girl there or in the village who would be willing to wait on me until Janina is well again.” She raised two fingers to her lips then dropped them. “I know, I will ask the lady who is to act as chaperone this evening. She will know someone who would like to travel to Pennford, to have a small adventure. We can take Janina’s things with us and then she can travel by the mail when she is better.”

  “Hmmm,” he said to cover his surprise at her good idea. If he did as Miss Castellano suggested it would simplify the situation and allow him to deliver her to Pennford and arrive in Manchester on schedule.

  “There must be a pianoforte at Sandleton. I will play very quietly, which will keep me from worrying about Janina and you will not have to distract me from my concern with the dreaded ‘conversation.’ You can work on your mountain of papers and we will not be in each other’s way at all.”

  “Very well. We leave in an hour.” Though the suggestion that they would “not be in each other’s way at all” was as likely as snow in Mexico. “I would be impressed with this morning’s gesture of loyalty, if I did not know how mercurial it can be.”

  It was an arrow that found its mark. Miss Castellano took a step back, her eyes betraying how wounded she felt by his reference to her broken engagement. After a long moment she smiled a little. “Congratulations, my lord. Now you have spoiled both my dinner and my breakfast.”

  She picked up the serviette that had dropped to the floor when she stood, tossed it on the table, and moved toward the door. He watched her progress, debating an apology, but one that would not give her the upper hand, when she stopped and faced him again. He was relieved to see her eyes no longer wounded but bright with feeling.

  “Lord David,” she said, her words tinged with regret as well as anger. “You know nothing, nothing about me other than that regrettable incident.” She raised two fingers to her lips again, but it was not enough to keep her from finishing. “If you have never once made a terrible mistake, then do feel free to mention that incident hourly. But if, despite having ‘Lord’ before your name, you are as imperfect as the rest of us, I will thank you not to speak of it again.”

  With that she left the room.

  David stared at her still-full plate and noticed that she had forgotten her shawl and her book. He stood and added them to the papers. If he thought to keep her at a distance he had succeeded. Her petulance would make for a miserable day of traveling, though it might keep her quiet. He wondered how long it would be until she smiled again.

  To his surprise she was in the stable yard when he came out. They were one of three groups preparing to leave. He stood waiting for her, watching, after he handed her shawl and book to one of the grooms with the direction to put it in the coach.

  David saw her turn to the Belforts who were right next to them, waiting for their baggage to be loaded.

  “I hope you travel safely to your destination,” she said pleasantly. “Will you have many more nights on the road?”

  “Uh, three more days, Miss Castellano,” Lord Belfort Wiggins answered, with a try at civility that was not anywhere equal to hers.

  “I hope all the beds are as comfortable as the ones here.”

  Before either one of them could answer, Miss Castellano turned toward her carriage, pressing her lips together as if to keep from laughing out loud. The Belforts were clearly embarrassed. Over what, Lord David had no idea. On the other hand, the Belforts deserved whatever barb she had delivered, after the way they had treated her last night. It would have cost them nothing to be kind to her. Of course, he thought, that was the pot calling the kettle black.

  Miss Castellano took Lord David’s arm as they crossed the stable yard. “That, my lord, was very small of me, but I wanted to show you that a pinch is so much more genteel than a body blow. As a boxer you should understand the difference.”

  “Yes, I do. And I know that what I said at breakfast was far closer to a knockout punch.”

  “But good practice for what is to come,” she said, seeming to accept an apology at which he had only hinted. “There is a vast difference between a cut and an insult. Not to mention a snub.”

  “We do not have the time to discuss the philosophical difference between insults and snubs.” The subject seemed like dangerous territory to him. Most likely, they would end up demonstrating insults on each other.

  “Lord David, I live for the day when you decide any time or place is suitable for conversation.”

  She left him feeling the same confusion he thought the Belforts must have felt. Had she snubbed him or simply ended the conversation as she thought he wished?

  David watched Miss Castellano speak to the groom and the coachman, offering them something from a box but not offering him any of the treat. Finally, Miss Castellano climbed into the carriage without another glance his way.

  If she was in a bad humor, it lasted only three hours. Or at least that was how long quiet reigned. Not that he actually timed it, but they had reached the first sign directing them to Stafford shortly before she called to him. For once they were on time and should arrive at Sandleton before dusk.

  “Lord David!” Miss Castellano leaned out the window at a precarious angle. He rode back beside her and she settled safely on her seat. “Do come and ride inside the carriage awhile. It is so very boring with no one to talk to. We can compare insults we have received and given.”

  “That seems a subject that will invite discomfort, and there is nowhere for you to run off to.”

  “Then I will thank you for rescuing my shawl and book and then we can discuss some other subject of which we both have knowledge.”

  “Miss Castellano, I think we would find it difficult to agree on what color the sun is.”
>
  “Gold, of course.”

  “Yellow,” he answered.

  “You are deliberately being difficult, but I am so desperate for something living to talk to that I will overlook it.”

  David rode into the woods and pulled a branch of wild roses from a wildly blooming plant. They were almost the color of her costume.

  He shoved them through the window of the coach onto the seat opposite her. “Here is something living. Talk to it.”

  Her long-suffering expression mirrored exactly how he felt, but then she smiled and gave her attention to the flowers.

  “Oh, good afternoon, Miss Rose. You and your friends are such refreshing company. It’s so lovely of you to call, and the scent you are wearing is delightful. Spending time with you always lifts my spirits.”

  She waited as though listening.

  “How kind of you to say so. And I think that blushing red suits you marvelously as well. The white near the center only emphasizes the depth of the hue.”

  The conveyance bumped over a root and settled as quickly. “Yes, you see all your friends are nodding in agreement.”

  She listened again.

  “I know. He quite swept you off your feet, or from your branch.”

  David stared off into the woods so that she would not see him smile.

  “He is a fine figure of a man but, I must tell you, my dears, his manners leave much to be desired.”

  Silence again.

  “Oh, I suspect that there is more there than you think, but it will not be anything but the most mundane experience.”

  She said the last as though it were the worst criticism one could make of a man. David rode ahead, sure that more insults were to follow. She could be charming, but like the roses there were thorns hidden in the most unexpected places.

  After a while the sound of her voice faded and he actually looked around for another flower to stir her imagination. He decided against it, afraid she would misinterpret his gesture.

  The sun heated the air, hot even for July. And humid. Over the next hours, as they headed steadily for the Great North Road, David had to fight to keep his eyes open. He jerked himself awake and turned back to see how the rest fared.

  The coachman was nodding as well, and David turned his horse back to the carriage just as the man fell from his box and hit the ground with a sickening thud. The horses sensed the lack of control instantly and picked up their pace. The grooms, both of them, jumped from the back of the conveyance to see to John Coachman’s injury, which left no one but Miss Castellano to take charge of the horses.

  He urged Cruces to a spot opposite the window.

  “You do not have to rescue me. Go see how the coachman is; I can climb up and slow the horses.” She shouted her suggestions and did not seem at all afraid.

  The horses picked up their pace and Miss Castellano fell back into her seat. If he did not act quickly the team would soon be out of control.

  “Stay right there!” he shouted to her, and could not think of another woman who would need to be told that.

  David thought first to ride to the lead horse and grab the bridle, but they were already moving too fast for that, so he urged his horse parallel to the coachman’s box and made a grab for the edge. He missed on the first try and lost ground as the team sensed a race and pulled ahead.

  Now the carriage picked up speed, too fast for him to effect a rescue of its passenger. He would have one more chance to jump into the driver’s box before the conveyance moved beyond his reach. The consequences of that would be disastrous.

  “I can jump safely,” Miss Castellano yelled from her seat. “I’ve done it before.”

  I’ve done it before. Of course she had. No matter how many times she had jumped from a moving carriage, her guardian would hardly thank him if he let Miss Castellano demonstrate that skill now.

  “But my trunks. Please, I need my clothes. Try just one more time.”

  Oh yes, he would be delighted to risk his life for her gowns and jewelry. The carriage rocketed over a rough patch of road and even the redoubtable Mia Castellano let out a very small shriek. At least she realized how fast the carriage moved, that she could not jump without some injury. He could banish the thought of holding her unconscious body, bones broken as surely as her hat had been yesterday.

  Desperation made an excellent companion, bolstering his energy as it did. This time David waited until the conveyance swayed toward him. He kicked free of his stirrups and pulled himself up into the box though he could feel his shoulders protest the effort. Thank God a hundred times ten!

  The coach swerved to the right toward an embankment that led to a lake, and he had a horrible picture of his passenger tumbling over and over like dice in a cup as the conveyance slid and spun into the water.

  The horses slowed a little, either because his horse no longer raced alongside or because they felt the weight in the box and knew the coachman had returned. Their less panicked gait would make it easier for him to reach for the reins that were trailing in the dirt between the last horse and the box.

  He needed something with a hook and searched through the items that littered the driving box. A rain cape, a pistol wrapped in linen, a bottle of water, or maybe gin, and a few coins. Nothing with the appendage he needed.

  David considered jumping onto a horse’s back, but that was more of a challenge than lowering himself between the vehicle and the horses to reach for the reins.

  If anything went wrong it would be deadly, and not just for him, so he would have to convince the Fates that nothing would.

  As he took off his coat he heard Miss Castellano’s voice. “Take this!” He turned around to find the curved end of an umbrella stuck from the open window. God bless a woman who could think at such a time, any time. Beauty and brains rarely came in the same package.

  He took the umbrella. The handle gave him the extra reach he needed and on the third try, with no more insult than a face full of dirt and some doubly strained muscles, David caught the loop at the end of the reins, drew them up, and took control of the team. He slowed the overheated horses gradually. They finally stopped in the shade of some trees much too close to a part of the road filled with a lethal run of ruts and rocks.

  It felt as though the curtain had dropped on the play before the last act. The air was charged with the same energy he felt racing through him.

  He swung himself down from the driver’s box and with a quick glance at the horses, which appeared winded but fine, gave his attention to Miss Castellano.

  Kicking the door open, she jumped into his outstretched arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he swung her in a circle before setting her down. David did not release her and Mia did not move away.

  “What an adventure, my lord! Trapped in a runaway carriage. Rescued by a handsome man. It would make a wonderful scene for a theatrical vignette.”

  “You are amazing. I cannot imagine any other woman reacting with enthusiasm to this debacle. Tears and swoons would be more like it.”

  She smiled at him, flattered if not thrilled by his praise.

  William had found his match, David thought, a female who loved adventure. The viscount had been a fool not to give her what she needed and never let her go.

  Chapter Eight

  DAVID SAW THE MOMENT her jubilation disappeared, the moment she realized the closeness of their embrace or read his thoughts. No wonder Lord Arthur had given in to temptation. One kiss was a poor substitute for what he wanted from her. He wanted this excitement next to him in bed, her sense of adventure explored with her legs wrapped around him and him deep inside her, that look of wonder when she understood what a man and woman could truly share. A kiss was nothing by comparison.

  Her expression changed from elation to intrigue, an expression so close to temptation that it sobered him immediately.

  Damnation, he was her protector for the next twenty-four hours. Surely he could reach Sandleton and their chaperone without compromising both of them. He set
her away from him. She raised a hand to her hair and continued on as if nothing had passed between them.

  “What good fortune Janina insisted I take the umbrella. Why didn’t John Coachman have one?”

  “One can hardly drive a coach while holding an umbrella.” He turned away. The horses were winded and in need of some water and rest, and he had to see to the others.

  As if she read his mind, Miss Castellano’s grin disappeared and she raised a hand to her mouth. “John Coachman! I hope he is not badly injured. I will go back while you tend to the horses.” Without waiting for his agreement she ran off. The coachman and the grooms were out of sight but still she began to hurry back toward them.

  By the time David turned the carriage and headed back down the road, she, too, had passed from sight. When he reached the group he saw a tableau he had not expected.

  One of the grooms sat on a log, his head in his hands. The other groom had the coachman propped up against a tree, but now stood around like a girl with nothing to do but wring her hands.

  Blood seeped from a wound on the coachman’s forehead. Miss Castellano worked at staunching the flow with a white cloth he suspected she had ripped from her petticoat.

  She glanced at the grooms. “What is the matter with you two? Don’t just stand there. Bring me the water flask from the coach. Don’t sit on that log. Go help Lord David!”

  One of the grooms scrambled to obey as David observed her command of the situation. In his experience, when faced with an emergency women fell into two classes, those who wailed and worried and those who took direction well. He could not think of a time when a woman had taken charge.

  He left his horse and the team in the shade and walked over to the gathering. Miss Castellano looked up at him and continued her ministrations as she spoke.

  “John Coachman has come to his senses, my lord. But he is feverish and complains of headache and has been sick to his stomach.” She added the last in a conspiratorial whisper. She stood up, faced him, and spoke quietly. “The same complaint that Janina made.”