The Dangerous Lord Darrington

by Sarah Mallory

  He strode towards the mailcoach where passengers were lined up to embark.

  ‘Mrs Forrester, can I not persuade you postpone your trip until you have an escort?’

  One of the guards came forwards for her bag and she handed it over. She bit her lip, her huge dark eyes fixed on his face.

  ‘Come on, missus, we ain’t got all day!’

  The rough voice of one of the passengers standing behind her startled Beth. She gave her head a little shake.

  ‘No, I cannot delay. Excuse me.’ Hurriedly she followed her maid into the coach.

  Guy turned on his heel and walked back to his own chariot, shaking his head over the impossibility of reasoning with headstrong women. It was not his concern, he reminded himself. And many women made the journey to London without coming to any harm. Still, the feeling of unease would not leave him.

  ‘Well, now, can we be away from here?’ demanded Julia as he came up. ‘I vow I am impatient to reach Highridge.’

  Guy put his hand on the open door.

  ‘I am not coming with you, Julia.’ Ignoring her astonished look and outraged demands for an explanation he issued a few, brief instructions before hurrying off to find the bookkeeper.

  Chapter Ten

  Beth made herself comfortable in one corner of the coach, her maid sitting nervously beside her. There was only one other inside passenger, a stout, haughty-looking gentleman who cast a disapproving look at Tilly, which made the poor girl ask Beth in an urgent whisper if she should go and sit up top.

  ‘Upon no account,’ returned Beth, directing a defiant look at her fellow passenger. ‘I have paid for your ticket and want you beside me.’

  The man sniffed and pulled out his watch. ‘Two minutes late!’ He leaned out of the window. ‘Coachman—what is the delay?’

  ‘No delay, sir,’ replied the driver jovially. ‘We leave when the church clock chimes the hour and not a minute before!’

  Even as he spoke Beth heard the bell begin to toll. A shout went up, the coach lurched and swayed as the driver climbed up on to the box and Beth nervously smoothed her skirts, eager to be on her way. There was a sudden commotion, raised voices in the yard and the door beside her was wrenched open. A great-coated figure jumped in and the carriage pulled away even before the door was closed.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Beth demanded as the Earl of Darrington made himself comfortable opposite her.

  ‘I am going to London.’

  His bland smile caused anger to replace her astonishment. ‘Impossible!’

  ‘Not at all,’ he replied. ‘I have purchased a ticket.’

  ‘This is most irregular!’ protested the haughty man. ‘Your name will not be on the waybill!’

  Lord Darrington raised his quizzing glass and regarded the protester. ‘On the contrary,’ he said coldly. ‘I purchased my ticket from the bookkeeper and saw the guard write my name on the waybill before we set off. Not, my good man, that it is any business of yours.’

  Beth might appreciate this masterly set down, but she was not going to own up to it. She glared at the earl. ‘I have no wish for your company, sir!’

  ‘You cannot prevent me from riding in this coach, madam.’

  She bit her lip. With the haughty man regarding them with undisguised curiosity she was unwilling to embark upon a prolonged argument. She hunched her shoulder and turned to stare out of the window. The streets of Thirsk were soon replaced by open fields, but it could not be said that Beth enjoyed the view afforded her as they bowled along. She was anxious to get to London. She would not allow herself to hope for too much, but if she could find Monsieur de Beaune, if he would speak for Simon, his name might yet be cleared. She glanced across at the earl. He was sitting back in the corner, eyes closed, but she did not believe he was sleeping. Why was he here? She had seen his own carriage in the yard and had watched as he escorted the very dashing matron to it. Why then, should he suddenly buy a ticket for a London mail? Did he wish to torment her? She could not believe he would want to help her, not after the way she had thrown herself at him and been rejected. And yet…

  No! Defiantly Beth closed her mind to it. To accept help from the earl would be further humiliation and she would resist that with all her might. She shifted in her seat and the earl’s eyes opened. Beth was very aware that Tilly was asleep beside her and there was a gentle snore from the haughty man in the far corner. Beth knew a moment’s panic—she might as well be alone with the earl.

  She turned her head to stare out of the window again. Darrington sighed.

  ‘It is going to be a very tedious journey if you mean to ignore me, madam.’

  ‘Then I suggest you alight at the next stage, sir!’

  ‘No, no, I am determined to help you.’

  ‘And I am determined you shall not!’

  He fixed his grey eyes upon her. ‘What, not even for your brother’s sake?’

  She glared at him. ‘I do not need your help, Lord Darrington. I am perfectly capable of doing this myself.’

  He crossed his arms and said with maddening calm, ‘I doubt it.’

  He was trying to make her lose her temper, but Beth was not about to let that happen. She said icily, ‘Then follow me if you wish, sir, and I will show you!’

  They proceeded to the next stage in a stony silence. Beth thought miserably that she had never spent such an uncomfortable journey. Tilly was slumped against her in a deep slumber, squashing Beth into her seat. The earl lounged in his corner; if he was discomposed by the jolting of the carriage or the haughty man’s sonorous snoring, he showed no sign of it.

  The carriage jolted over a particularly uneven section of the highway and rocked precariously. Beth grabbed Tilly and pushed her back into her seat, but the haughty man was thrown heavily against the earl. The man grunted, muttered something that might have been an apology and flung himself back into his own corner.

  A shadow of irritation flickered over Lord Darrington’s face. It was gone in an instant, but Beth observed it.

  ‘Such treatment as this is surely not what you are used to,’ she said sweetly. ‘You will be heartily sick of it by the time we reach London.’

  ‘But I see no need for us to travel all the way to London with the mail. I have left instructions for my man to pack up a bag for me and to follow on with my own carriage. He should catch up with us by the end of the day.’

  ‘I hope by then you will have thought better of this idiotic notion to follow me.’

  ‘Not at all. I hope to persuade you to travel with me in comfort.’

  ‘I am perfectly happy here, thank you.’ Another violent jolt at that moment sent Beth scrabbling for the strap to prevent herself from crashing against her maid and it gave the lie to her words.

  The earl’s mocking smile roused Beth’s fury. Biting her lip, she angrily straightened her skirts and scowled at the passing landscape.

  The hours dragged by. The pressure to keep moving meant that the stops to change horses were as short as possible and even though the landlords of the various inns offered the passengers refreshments they barely had time to swallow a cup of coffee before the guard was urging them back into the coach for the next section. It did no good for the haughty man to declare that he had paid for his luncheon and would take it with him; the waiter came chasing after him and wrested away the half a fowl he had wrapped in his handkerchief before he could carry it off. Even the earl’s elevated status counted for very little; the landlord might be persuaded to serve his meal a little quicker, but even he could do nothing once the coachman’s shout of ‘All’s ready’ went up and they were obliged to hurry back to the coach or risk being left behind.

  Beth’s surreptitious glances at the earl showed that he, too, was finding the journey irksome and each time they stopped to change horses she half-expected him to jump out and declare he had had enough and would wait for his coach to come by and take him up, but each time they pulled away he was sitting opposite her. And deep within Beth, barely ackno
wledged, was a sense of relief. She did not want him there, certainly she did not need him, yet all the same she was aware that she did not feel quite so alone.

  It was early evening and the low sun was casting long shadows when Beth was roused from her meditations by the blast of a horn. Her first thought was that it was the guard, blowing up for an approaching turnpike, then she noticed that the earl was sitting up, his attention fixed on the window. Beth heard the sounds of a second carriage and looked out to see a team of horses moving past the mailcoach. She watched, enthralled, and heard the earl give a satisfied murmur as his travelling chariot went past, temporarily blocking the light.

  ‘Now, Mrs Forrester, we shall be able to continue our journey in comfort.’

  Beth shook her head at him.

  ‘Now, my lord, you will be able to go home!’

  The sun had set by the time they reached Newark and the blaze of light spilling out of the inn’s many windows was a welcome sight. Beth uttered up a prayer of thanks when the guard announced that they would be stopping there overnight. Lord Darrington jumped out and she allowed him to hand her down. His grip on her hand was firm and reassuring. It would be so easy to allow him to escort her to London. Only the memory of how she had thrown herself at him and how he had refused her gave her the strength to pull her hand away.

  ‘Madam—’

  ‘No! I will not listen to you. Please, leave me alone now.’ With a twitch of her skirts and a brief word to Tilly to bring her bag, Beth swept off into the posting inn, her head held high.

  Guy watched her go, his eyes narrowed, until a shout claimed his attention.

  ‘My lord!’ His valet, Charles Fitton, was hurrying towards him. ‘We had you in our sights for the past ten miles or so and I told Thomas to spring ’em to get past, but we couldn’t do anything until we’d passed the turning for South Muskham—did you see us?’

  ‘Yes, I did, and wondered what the devil you thought you were doing,’ retorted the earl. ‘I told you to follow us, not risk my coach and my cattle in a race!’

  Unabashed, Fitton merely grinned. ‘We did follow you, until the road was wide enough for us to get past safely. And it was never a race, those poor nags pullin’ the mail being no contest for our team, m’lord. Mind you, I had to grease a few palms to have the pick of the stables at the last posting stage, I can tell you.’

  ‘I hope you haven’t spent all my money, Fitton.’

  ‘Devil a bit, m’lord,’ replied the valet, reaching into his pocket and handing over a roll of banknotes to his master.

  ‘Thank you. Now, perhaps you will go and bespeak rooms for us—and order another room for a lady and her maid,’ he added.

  The inn was very busy and it took several minutes for the mail’s passengers to be shown to their rooms. Beth was so tired she was tempted to lie down immediately and sleep, but she knew it would be foolish not to eat something, so she shrugged off her jacket and removed her bonnet, tidied her hair and splashed her face with water. She pulled a fresh kerchief from her portmanteau and arranged it carefully around her neck. Thus refreshed, she made her way downstairs to join the other passengers in the coffee room to await dinner. There was no sign of the earl and she knew a moment’s regret. She had not wanted his company, but she was forced to admit that his presence had provided her with a certain amount of protection. Now, walking into the crowded coffee room, she was uneasily aware of the men’s eyes upon her as she made her way to the table reserved for the mail’s passengers. With a sinking heart she realised that most of the seats had been taken and she and Tilly were obliged to sit at opposite ends of the table. One of the outside passengers jumped up to hold her seat for her, but his gentlemanly act was accompanied by such a leering smile that Beth wished there had been a space beside the haughty man: she would infinitely prefer to be ignored than subjected to the zealous attentions of the lanky fellow who smelled of spirits and tobacco and who constantly refreshed himself from a small hipflask.

  During the meal Beth fixed her attention on her dinner and tried to concentrate upon what she would do when she reached London. She would need somewhere to stay, but she hoped that if she made her way directly to Mr Spalding’s office in Cheapside he would be able to recommend a hotel for her. The man with the hipflask was addressing her again, but she pretended she had not heard him and when she suddenly felt his leg pressing against hers under the table she jumped up and excused herself.

  Her appetite was quite destroyed. She had never felt so vulnerable before, but then, she had never travelled alone on a mailcoach before. For a moment she wished that Lord Darrington had not left, but she quickly stifled the thought. She had said she did not need his protection and she would prove it. She just wished she did not feel quite so uncomfortable.

  Beth asked a passing serving maid for directions to the privy. When she returned she would collect Tilly and they would retire to their room for the remainder of the evening. She did not think that would prove a hardship, for after such a gruelling day she thought she would be asleep almost as soon as she laid her head on the pillow.

  She was returning across the yard when she heard a rough voice behind her.

  ‘Ah. So there you are!’

  The words were slurred and there was little light in that part of the yard, but she recognised the lanky form of the outside passenger. She thought that he must by now have consumed the entire contents of his hipflask. Without a word she made to pass him, but his hand shot out and grabbed her arm.

  ‘Not so fast, my pretty. I’ve had my eye on you.’

  ‘You make that sound like a compliment, sir,’ retorted Beth, her lip curling. ‘I assure you it is not!’

  His braying laugh ended with a hiccup. ‘Ah, I like a bit o’ spirit in my woman.’

  She tried to shake her arm free. ‘I am not your woman! Now pray, let me go. I wish to go indoors.’

  ‘And so we shall, my dear, in due course. I saw you give that swell cove the shove and thought you might be needin’ a bit o’ company.’

  ‘No, thank you. Please let go of my arm.’

  ‘Now don’t be unfriendly, lass.’ He pulled her closer. ‘I thought we might have a drink together. Now, what do you say?’

  She averted her face, grimacing at the stench of brandy and onions on his breath. The yard was empty and there was so much noise coming from the inn that she doubted if anyone would hear her if she cried out. She began to be seriously alarmed. She heard a footstep on the cobbles and turned quickly, opening her mouth to shout for help, but the words died when she saw Darrington standing there.

  ‘I think the lady has had enough of your company.’

  He spoke quite pleasantly, but Beth heard the underlying steel in his voice. However, her companion merely grunted.

  ‘So it’s you come back, is it? Well, you had yer chance, now it’s my turn.’

  ‘I think not.’ Something in the earl’s voice filtered through to the man’s drink-sodden brain.

  ‘Oho, so you fancy a turn up, do you?’

  Beth felt his grip slacken and she quickly pulled herself free. The man advanced upon the earl, fists raised. Beth did not see what happened; in the space of a moment she was aware of a flurry of movement in the darkness, a few grunts and thuds, then the lanky man was on the floor, nursing his jaw.

  ‘Are you hurt, Mrs Forrester?’ Darrington turned his attention to Beth, but she did not answer immediately. She watched her assailant clamber unsteadily to his feet and stagger back to the inn. ‘Madam?’

  She looked at him, momentarily dazed by events.

  ‘No, I am not hurt.’ Indignation welled within her. ‘Oh, what a horrid man. How dare he accost me in that manner!’

  ‘He is not entirely to blame,’ murmured the earl, coming over to stand beside her.

  She turned on him, saying angrily, ‘How can you say that?’

  Despite the deep shadows she could see the gleam in his eyes as he looked down at her. She swallowed nervously, her anger replaced by ano
ther, more unsettling sensation. She stood, unable to move as his hand came up and caught one of her curls.

  ‘You go abroad with that glorious hair uncovered—how can any man resist you?’

  His voice, deep and warm now, turned her insides to water and a delicious ripple of desire swirled in her belly. His body was blocking what little light there was coming from the windows of the inn. She had the unnerving sensation that she was about to be swallowed up in the darkness with him as he moved closer. She turned her face up towards him, unconsciously inviting him to kiss her.

  ‘I—I did not intend…’

  Her words were drowned by a burst of raucous laughter. A group of stable hands crashed into the yard, breaking the spell. The earl’s head snapped up.

  ‘No,’ he muttered, taking her arm in a none-too-gentle grasp, ‘you have no idea how beguiling you are, do you?’

  He led her indoors, but did not stop at the coffee room door.

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘I bespoke private rooms for us—’

  With a little huff of frustration Beth shook off his arm. ‘How many times do I have to tell you that I am not going to accept your help?’ she demanded, glaring up at him.

  ‘And how safe will you feel, sleeping in your room tonight? I have seen off one fellow, but what of all the others? I saw them while you were at dinner. Not one man could keep his eyes off you.’

  ‘You…were…watching me?’ Beth did not know whether to be gratified or outraged.

  ‘I wanted to make sure you would come to no harm.’ He glanced up at the yellowed ceiling and exhaled slowly. At length he fixed his eyes upon her. ‘Mrs Forrester, when you took Davies into the Priory and cared for him you earned my gratitude. I would like to repay that debt. Nothing else. I have no…designs upon your virtue.’

  Her face flamed and she lowered her eyes so that he would not see her humiliation, or her pain.