Rowena hesitated this time. Surely her web of lies was getting wide enough as it was; any more, and she would start to become entangled in it herself! There was no reason to continue adding layers of deception, was there?
Colour was once again rushing to her cheeks, and she fought it, trying to slow her breathing. If this Mr Paendly, whoever he was, knew the truth about her – about why she was at the Wingston Inn, and how she had got there, and with whom – he would of course consider her dirty, damaged, worthless. Her reputation, such as it was, would be ruined. She would never be able to hold her head up again.
Rowena swallowed. She had to get back home as quickly as possible.
“I could ask you the very same question,” she said with a smile that she hoped did not shake. “What were you doing there, at the Wingston Inn?”
Although she was not entirely sure what response she was expecting, Rowena was certainly not expecting Mr Paendly to frown, turn away from her, and move back towards his side of the carriage.
“I cannot tell you,” he said gruffly. “That is none of your concern.”
Rowena could not help it – a sarcastic laugh escaped her, and she shook her head. “Well in that case, sir, we have nothing more to say to each other. You wish to reveal nothing, and neither do I. Let us remain in frosty yet companionable silence for the rest of the journey.”
He would have retorted, she was sure of it, had the coach not at that moment slowed to a shuddering stop and light from what could only be an inn flooded through the now grimy window on Rowena’s side of the coach.
The door nearest Mr Paendly opened, and she heard Smith say, “I will enquire which rooms to take your luggage to, m’lord, and the lady’s too. I will not be a moment.”
The slamming of the door was the only sound to break the silence in the proceeding two minutes. Rowena relished the end of the questions, but it was impossible for her not to feel uncomfortable in the presence of such a man. Even in silence, even without looking at him, Mr Paendly had such a way of controlling the space that he was in, utterly. She could feel him watching her, and a strange feeling grew in her: the hope that he liked what he saw.
It felt like hours but could have been two minutes when Smith returned looking embarrassed, and tried to whisper something to Mr Paendly. Rowena caught the phrase ‘just one’, and saw a look of shock on her travelling companion’s face.
“Just one?” She said sharply. “Just one what?”
Now that they were outside an inn, there was enough light to see Smith’s face, and she was surprised to see quite a young man, barely a few years older than herself, surely. She could also see the spread of embarrassment across his face, and he looked nervous as he glanced at his master.
“Well, madam, just one room.”
Rowena stared at him, and he cringed as she repeated, “Just one room.”
Smith nodded, and trying to stand a little closer to his master as though that would give him some sort of protection from her ire, he said quietly, “Yes, madam, just one room. The innkeeper says…he says that you are quite welcome to share.”
Rowena stared at him in complete horror.
* * *
James, on the other hand, could not have been more delighted.
Sharing a room – with Miss Kirkland? Finally, a chance to see what exactly was beneath those tantalisingly clinging clothes. Sodden wet they were now, but they would be infinitely better removed from her.
“Share?” She said in absolute disgust.
It was impossible to hide from himself the deep attraction that he felt for this Miss Rebecca Kirkland. She was sharp, she was witty, but she was also hurt in some way. Something wasn’t quite right about her – that turn she gave him about her friend’s brother, almost as impressive as an actress on a stage!
For that was what it was, wasn’t it? An act.
“You cannot be serious, Smith,” she was saying in icy tones. “Either you are attempting to offend me directly, or you are hoping that I will say something that is disgraceful. Which is it, Smith?”
A small part of him that James would barely admit to was hoping that all this fuss that she was making about not telling him about herself was a ruse – something to get him even more interested in her than he already was.
Smith was spluttering beside him, unable or unwilling to answer Miss Kirkland’s accusations.
James smiled. Perhaps even this was a front, hoping that he would then press her to accept a place in his bed.
It just took one look at her face to see that her outrage was genuine.
“If you think that I am taking one step into that chamber with you,” she said firmly, pointing a finger menacingly at him, “you are very much mistaken, Mr Paendly. I have never been so insulted in my – ”
James tried not to imagine exactly what that would look like as he said, “No one is forcing you to do anything, Miss Kirkland.”
She laughed bitterly. “Says the man who threatened to abandon me at the side of the road not an hour ago!”
Shuffling slightly uncomfortably in his seat, for that was not his finest hour, James was about to speak when Smith interrupted him.
“I will go in and order supper, m’lord.”
He was gone before James could order him back, but perhaps that was for the best. There did not seem to be any other way of cooling Miss Kirkland’s temper.
“I cannot repeat any more strongly,” she said slowly, not taking her eyes from him, “that I absolutely could not do it.”
James stared at her without speaking, and she coloured slightly. Would it be possible, he wondered slyly? Was there any way that he would be able to convince her to share his bed? He knew his own attractions, had seen them create impressive effects each time that he was in town, though the desperate attempts for young ladies to be seduced by him was wearying after a while.
Not so with Miss Kirkland. There was something so pure about the way that her eyes widened at the very idea, and yet the soft swells of her body cried out to him that this was skin ready for pleasure.
But her eyes were averted now, and she had swallowed, and when her voice spoke once more all of that prepossession had disappeared. “I am no scarlet woman, sir, and nothing you can say to me can convince me to share a room with you.”
James swallowed. She was such a delightful morsel, and he was starting to hunger for her in a way that was simply not gentlemanly.
“I am aware of the…the inconvenience,” he said quietly, trying to keep his eyes to her face, and nowhere else. “I am very happy to offer to sleep on the chamber floor, giving you full reign of the bed itself.”
It was difficult not to hold his breath as he made this offer – rather rakishly too, if James was honest with himself. He had danced that particular dance before, and it had taken but twenty minutes to gain acceptance onto the bed, and then into the bed, and then into the young woman in question.
To seduce a woman who already feels comfortable is no hard hill to climb.
“I cannot, sir,” said Miss Kirkland, breaking into his delightful memories, and a sharp bitterness flowed through him, mingled with growing desire. “But I have a solution which I would like to propose.”
James’ traitorous heart leapt, hopeful that she would still come around to the idea. Was it so unseemly to desire such a woman? Was it really unthinkable that she may want him too?
“I will sleep here, in the coach,” Miss Kirkland said decidedly with a look of firm determination on her features. “That solves the problem entirely, for I have little spare coin on me at any rate. You take the chamber in the inn, I will sleep here, and we can continue our journey on the morrow.”
James internally groaned. Well, she had him good and cornered now. As a gentleman, there was no possibility that he could allow her to do such a thing, and if she was half as intelligent as he suspected her to be, the very beautiful Miss Kirkland knew precisely that.
He sighed, and inclined his head. “‘Tis a generous offer, but I
could not possibly accept it. Your idea, however, has merit and I would be honoured if you would accept the room inside the inn, and I will sleep here tonight.”
“Why thank you, Mr Paendly,” she said a little too quickly and with a broad smile. “You are a very noble man for offering to do so.”
James sighed again. He had been played: he knew it, and she knew it, and he had come out decidedly on the bottom. Well, he had slept in worse places before, that was true. All he needed now was something to eat, and he could collapse with tiredness, curled up in the coach.
A knocking at the door startled him, but when he opened it there was only Smith standing there.
“’Pologies for disturbing, m’lord,” he said with a nervous look at Miss Kirkland, who was thankfully remaining silent. “I came to tell you, sir, that food has been sent up to the room, and – ”
“Marvellous,” said Miss Kirkland, opening her own door and stepping out of the carriage. “Smith, you may take my luggage up with me.”
And off she strode towards the inn.
James watched her go with a sad smile. What had it been: two hours since he had first encountered Miss Rebecca Kirkland? She had bedazzled him and confused him and beguiled him almost in equal measure since then, and yet he was nowhere near understanding her.
Smith was staring at him in confusion, and James shrugged. “You heard the lady, Smith, take her luggage up for her. And bring me some food out here, will you? I will be napping across the boards.”
It was not until Smith nodded slowly that something struck James. “My word, Smith, is this where you normally sleep?”
A flush of defiance crept over his servant’s face as he nodded.
“Well, my apologies for stealing your spot,” said James easily, knowing full well that Smith would rather chop his own arm off than take offence from his master. “And where will you be staying the night, then?”
Smith broke out into a broad grin. “Well, there is a serving maid who I know here, m’lord – Abigail, she is – and…well, whenever we are passing, I usually drop in and…give her a visit.”
James chuckled and shook his head. “I bet you do, you old rascal! Be off with you then, after luggage and food has been taken care of, and mind that you are here early tomorrow morning. I would imagine that our passenger will want to depart without delay.”
Still grinning, Smith bowed his head, and pulled Miss Kirkland’s luggage down from the roof and carried it over to the inn.
James was still smiling after Smith had brought him something to eat – a little stew, it looked like, with indistinct meat swimming in the centre of the bowl. Well, he thought, at least one of us tupping a girl this night, though I confess I would much rather it had been myself!
Unpalatable food swallowed down, James attempted to make himself as comfortable as it was possible to be in the coach. It is going to be a long night, with the thoughts of Miss Rebecca Kirkland swimming through his mind and the thought of her even now undressing in the inn before him.
4
For the third time in the last ten minutes, Rowena stifled a yawn, and tried not to sink deeper into the lush and comforting carriage as she was jostled along in the bright morning light. The bed, if you could call it a bed, that had been offered by the inn was certainly nowhere near as comfortable as she had been accustomed to, and she fought down another yawn as she looked around the carriage.
And caught Mr Paendly yawning too. She almost smiled to see him struggle to hide his tiredness from her, but a sharp thrill of guilt also rushed through her. After all, she did effectively bully him into sleeping in this carriage, and it must have been even less restful than her own repose.
An image flashed across her mind: the sight of Mr Paendly all curled up in this coach, in a small ball on one side. A broad smile swept unbidden across her face.
“What are you smiling about?”
Startled, Rowena hid the smile – but not quickly enough. Mr Paendly was staring at her with a curious look on his face, and he had definitely caught her grinning.
“There must be a reason for such a beautiful woman to smile,” Mr Paendly continued, and Rowena felt heat once again across her cheeks.
It had been awkward enough this morning, as she had come downstairs after breaking her fast alone, to find Mr Paendly stretching outside the carriage. Their eyes had met, and the flash of heat between them had made Rowena gasp under her breath.
The intensity of his look now almost drew out the same gasp. Trying to control herself, she murmured, “I am just looking forward to getting home, sir, that is all.”
She looked away, but knew that his gaze was still on her. A minute, perhaps two, passed in silence. And then –
“Tell me,” came Mr Paendly’s voice, but it was more gentle now, softer, with none of the grit of the day before. Rowena could not help but tilt her head to behold him as he continued. “Exactly how did you manager to get yourself stuck at a coaching inn, alone, with no means of returning home?”
Rowena looked into his pale blue eyes, and hesitated. She could not entirely put her finger on it, and if someone had asked her to explain it, she would not have been able to, but something in her told her that she could trust him.
Mr Paendly smiled, and the smile reached his eyes and softened them, causing crinkles to appear around them. “You can trust me.”
She swallowed, and opened her mouth – and at that precise instant the coach jerked heavily to the left and it tilted wildly, and not before it righted itself did Rowena Kerr find herself falling across the coach.
Breath knocked out off her, heart fluttering, head swimming, Rowena was conscious only of the strength of his arms, the way that he held her steady, the heat of his chest as she leaned against him, her fingers, unsure where to settle, and her heart beat faster as she became more aware of where she was.
Nestled into Mr Paendly’s arms.
“C-Careful, Miss Kirkland.”
Rowena did not need to see his face to hear the juddering control that Mr Paendly was attempting to keep as he helped her back to her seat. She hid her face from him, flushed as it was at the closeness that they had just experienced, but she could not help but glance over at him as she busied herself with tidying her skirts.
There was an unsettled look on his face, something between hope and disappointment. Rowena fought down the wish that he found her beautiful. Why should it matter? Why should she care what this Mr Paendly thought of her; what was he to her?
Thoughts of wild kisses overwhelmed her mind, and Rowena shook her head and screwed her eyes tight. This was not the time to daydream.
Two loud bangs made her jump, and she looked up to see that her travelling companion had hit on the roof.
“By Jove, Smith, what the hell is going on?”
Hurried footsteps preceded the appearance at the door of Smith, looking just as rattled as Rowena felt.
“I apologise, my lord, a large dip in the road for which I was unprepared – ”
“I was rattled about like a jack in the box in here!”
“My apologies, my lord, but it seems as though,” and here Rowena saw Smith swallow and cast his eyes down, as though unable to face his master as he spoke, “we may have to take a longer route.”
Silence sat uncomfortably for a moment as Mr Paendly glared at his servant – and something twinged in Rowena’s mind that did not make sense. What was it?
“Longer route,” repeated Mr Paendly.
Smith shuffled his feet and Rowena heard the splatter of the mud as he did so. “Yes, my lord. The river, it is still swollen and more so after last night’s rain. We will have to go further along to reach the nearest bridge, my lord.”
That was it, thought Rowena, startled. My lord. Why does Smith keep calling Mr Paendly ‘my lord’? Unless…unless he is no Mr Paendly at all, no more than I am Rebecca Kirkland. But why would he lie?
“…nothing for it,” Mr Paendly was saying with a severe look on his face. “But I want a smooth
ride, Smith, there is a gentlelady in here who does not want to arrive at her destination scrambled like an egg!”
With muttered apologies and much bowing of the head, Smith retreated back to his station and within a moment, the carriage was moving once more.
There was a loud sigh, and Rowena could not help herself. She looked up.
“I must make my own apologies, Miss Kirkland,” Mr Paendly shook his head as he spoke. “I am afraid the weather is rather against us, but never fear. We shall make it, but we are going to have to go the long way around.”
Rowena nodded, knowing that any word she spoke would immediately betray her disappointment, but she was evidently not circumspect enough.
“I understand your disappointment, truly,” he said gently. “But were you not about to say something before we were… well...interrupted?”
It was impossible to prevent a slight blush from overwhelming her cheeks at the very thought of telling this Mr Paendly what had happened. Rowena bit her lip. There was something about this man: something that encouraged confidences, without words, without cajoling, without wheedling it out of her. Something about the way that he was: she trusted him completely, and she had no real notion why.
Rowena took a deep breath. Mr Bentley had been going in a different direction, so he would not be held up by this dratted river. He would probably be home by now. He may already have informed his family, his acquaintances. There was surely no harm in revealing the truth now.
Tempting as it was to close her eyes or look away from Mr Paendly as she spoke, Rowena blinked and gazed at him directly. “I was eloping.”
Shock, surprise, and a little horror flashed across his face, and she almost smiled at the visceral reaction that she saw in him. My, but men were all the same really. Society could tell her that it was she that was the gentler sex, but that did not match her experiences in the world.
“El-eloping?” Mr Paendly spluttered. “Eloping, Miss Kirkland?”
Voyage With a Viscount Page 3