Page 7 of Scandal’s Daughter

Chapter 4

“Wherein mischief is made.”

Georgiana looked down at her measly haul and huffed with annoyance. What on earth was Aunt Jane thinking, making Dandelion and Burdock so late in the year? The leaves were bound to be bitter and so late in the season the dandelions were hard to see, covered as they were by so many other taller grasses and flowers. Grumbling to herself she picked up her basket and called Conrad to heel. The big black mongrel came running back to her, tail wagging merrily and with every manner of burrs and seeds stuck to his coat.

“Oh really! Look at the state of you.” Georgiana tutted with disapproval. “Aunt will give us both a scold if you go home looking like that, you wretch.” She looked up at the sky and frowned. “But we’ll both be wet through too if we don’t hurry; I don’t like the look of that sky.”

Looking around her Georgiana made a quick decision. It would take hours searching out enough dandelions here, but if she were to head over to the Gower estate’s four-acre field where she usually gathered, she could be done within an hour at most, and no one any the wiser.

“Come on, Conrad,” she called, stepping out. It would take her at least an hour to walk over there but better that than breaking her back in the meadow at Longbarrow.

Her instincts proved to be right on reaching the Gower estate and her basket was almost full when the heavens opened.

“Oh blast!” she cursed, squealing as a freezing drop of rain made its way down the back of her neck and made her shiver. Picking up her basket in one hand and her skirts in the other she ran down the hill to the smuggler’s cave. It was no longer used by smugglers of course, or at least rarely, as it was too well known by all to be a safe hiding place.

But it was a good place to sit out the rain storm. She sat on a ledge just inside the shelter of the cave and looked out as a storm boiled overhead. Heavy, bruised-looking, indigo clouds tumbled together, blocking out the daylight and casting an eerie and melancholy light over the countryside.

“Oh dear, now we’re in for it,” she muttered, pulling Conrad’s silky ears distractedly as the first fork of lightning crazed the skies and ended with a sharp crack before thunder rumbled through the landscape. Conrad whined and fidgeted beside her and she hushed him, thankful for his companionship. She was in no way a fanciful creature, despite her love of lurid Gothic novels and unsuitable romances, but the storm was unsettling, and she would be glad to be safe back at home beside a warm fire. The wind turned and rain lashed into the opening of the cave, driving her farther back into the darkness where she lingered with unease whilst the storm raged.

She was just beginning to think the worst of it had passed when there was a commotion at the mouth of the cave and she stifled a scream of alarm as the shriek of a horse could be heard and she saw the great creature rear up, the black shape highlighted against a luminous white strike of lightning. A moment later and she saw a man leap down, pulling the terrified animal into the shelter of the cave and murmuring soothing words to it.

With her heart beating in alarm she took stock of the man, not a local man that was for certain, for she would have been well aware of having seen those broad shoulders and powerful legs before, had she but glanced at them in passing. The man stripped off his soaking wet jacket and waistcoat and laid them down over a rock to dry.

Very much alive to the impropriety of her situation, alone with a man in the middle of the countryside in a thunderstorm, Georgiana kept well back in the dark and prayed she wouldn’t be noticed. But she had of course forgotten her recalcitrant hound.

At first, slightly cowed by the spectacle of man and beast fighting each other and the elements, Conrad had hidden, quaking, behind his mistress's skirts. Now that everything had calmed down, however, he was feeling rather braver. Stepping boldly forward, he offered a sharp yip of disapproval to the newcomer before Georgiana had the wit or the time to stop him.

The man swung around, and she was obliged with a view of thick brown hair, rather fierce dark eyes under thick eyebrows and a strong, square jaw.

“Who’s there?” he demanded.

Quite unable to do anything else, Georgiana stepped forward, out of the darkness into the purplish shadows cast by the storm that was finally showing signs of abating, much to her relief.

“Good God,” the man breathed, as she emerged from the gloom of the cave. It seemed to take him a moment to remember his manners, or at least, Georgiana assumed the next time he opened his mouth he would introduce himself and put her mind at rest he meant her no harm. He did not. “Are you a witch?” he demanded, amusement glittering in his eyes as he looked her over, an openly appraising look that made her blood boil.

“Indeed, I am not, Sir,” she replied, with as much froideur as she could muster. “For if I were, I would conjure myself at home by the fire, instead of sheltering from a storm in a damp cave.”

The man gave a bark of laughter, apparently delighted. “Well, I’ll be damned. If you aren’t just the thing to brighten a tedious afternoon.”

She looked back at him in appalled silence while he continued to look her up and down in approval.

Georgiana gave him a disgusted sniff and glared back at him. “I’m sure I find myself relieved to have afforded you some entertainment,” she replied with cool dignity. “For you amuse me, not at all.”

“Mercy!” he replied, laughing, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Come, little witch, I think we have set off on the wrong foot. Will you not come and introduce yourself to me?”

“As you seem to have a lack of manners that is beyond anything I have had the misfortune to encounter until now, no. I shall not.”

“Ah,” he replied, the glittering amusement in his eyes darkening as he took a step forward. “Then perhaps I should introduce myself?” he said, his voice soft now.

“Please, do not trouble yourself,” she snapped in response. “If you will only stand aside, I will bid you good day. It appears the storm is over, and I can continue on my way.”

“Alone?” he asked, quirking one eyebrow.

“Yes, alone!” she replied, any last vestige of patience long since vanished as this odious creature seemed determined to torment her. “I was born and raised here, and everyone knows me. It is no great scandal for me to walk alone.”

“On your own lands perhaps?” he acknowledged with no little scepticism. “But this isn’t your land.”

“Nor yours!” she retorted, trying to push past him and gasping in shock as he caught her by the arms. “Let me go!” she shouted, trying and failing to pull out of his grasp.