Page 13 of The Lady’s No Angel

“Goodnight, Miss Baxter,” he said, rather startled to discover his voice had lowered an octave. It sounded like thunder rumbling in the distance. He cleared his throat self-consciously, adding more briskly, “I shall see you in the morning.”

Miss Baxter didn’t move.

“Yes, indeed, Mr Cleaver. Bright and early. We expect to be on our way at seven thirty, isn’t that right, Miss Baxter?”

The maid practically shouted the girl’s name, making her jump slightly. Blinking, Miss Baxter’s cheeks grew rosier still as she turned to Milly. “Y-Yes, Milly. Bright. Early. Goodnight, Mr Cleaver.”

Hart watched them go and stood staring at the door for some time after it closed behind them, a foolish grin wreathing his face. Well, then. It definitely wasn’t just him.

“Good Lord,” Angel said, blinking dazedly as Milly closed the door behind them. “Good Lord! He is… He is…”

“Dangerous,” Milly said darkly, taking her mistress by the arm and practically towing her up the stairs.

Angel followed, still trying to struggle free of all the… the sensations that Mr Cleaver had provoked when he’d taken her hand. Not being a complete ninny, Angel was aware of the birds and the bees and had always heeded her mother’s warnings about what wicked men wanted from innocent girls. Still, she was not averse to a little light flirtation if a handsome fellow crossed her path. Never in her life had the touch of a man’s hand addled her wits to such a degree, however.

“Can a man have wiles?” she asked Milly as they trudged up the stairs to their room.

Milly cast her a curious glance over her shoulder. “What, now?”

“Wiles. People always speak of feminine wiles. Like, how a not quite proper lady caught some poor gentleman with her feminine wiles. Do you think Mr Cleaver has manly wiles?”

Milly snorted. “He’s got summat, I’ll give you that, and lots of it.”

Angel smothered a snort of laughter, which set Milly off, and the two ran into their bedroom, breathless with giggles. But, as Angel closed the door, she could not help reflecting that whilst running away to find Black Jack’s treasure had been risky indeed, the most dangerous thing she’d done so far was letting Mr Cleaver stay.

Chapter 5

A Very Improper Escort

The George, Cranbrook, Kent, 7th April 1816

Angel and Milly hurried down the stairs as the church bells rang seven.

“I can’t believe we slept so late,” Angel said as they headed for the noise and bustle of the public dining room.

“You was done in, miss, and I was none too sprightly myself. It did us good, I reckon.”

Angel could not disagree. She felt remarkably light-hearted this morning, though she had the lowering suspicion that this had more to do with their new travelling companion than the success of their mission.

“Well, we must eat quickly and be on our way.”

“There’s Toby and Mr Cleaver,” Milly said, nodding across the busy room where serving girls hurried about with laden trays.

Mr Cleaver lifted a hand in greeting and rose to his feet, and Angel tried to smother the little flutter of excitement in her belly upon seeing him. Yet he was an imposing sight, and she noted more than one lady turn in his direction, a wistful glint in their eyes.

“Miss Baxter, Miss Milly, good morning to you. I trust you slept well?” he asked politely, pulling out chairs for them.

“Like the dead,” Milly said, and then blushed at her temerity in speaking to the gentleman at all.

Angel laughed, setting her bonnet aside as she nodded ruefully. “I am afraid we are horribly late, but it’s all too true.”

“Not in the least. Though you’d best order quickly before young Toby here eats all the bacon.”

Toby glanced up from his plate, half a rasher hanging from his mouth. Milly tsked at him and pulled a face, and he shoved the other half in with his finger. “Sorry,” he mumbled, chewing with enthusiasm.

Angel could not fault the efficiency of the place, as a fresh pot of tea was set before them a moment later. Angel and Milly refused the eggs and bacon that Mr Cleaver and Toby were devouring with such enthusiasm and instead helped themselves to fresh bread and butter topped with a thick smear of golden honey.

Outside in the yard came the sound of horses' hooves on the cobbles and the scrape of wheels as the ostlers got travellers back on the road.