Page 20 of The Lady’s No Angel

No well-behaved, docile miss would set out upon such a journey alone with only a maid and a boy for protection. Yet he remembered how pale and anxious she’d looked, standing in the disordered room, her arms clutched about her middle. It was why he’d been so provoking, offering to sleep at the foot of her bed like the guard dog he’d offered to be. He had expected a set down, a tremendous scold which would put the colour back in her cheeks and chase away the lost, frightened expression that had made his heart hurt.

What he had not expected was her short little gasp, or the way her dark, watchful eyes had grown nearly black, and she had stared at him, seeing him but not seeing him as a delicious flush of pink coloured her cheeks… as if she were imagining something she ought not. It had been quite marvellous. He would have given most everything he owned to know what she’d been thinking in that moment. With luck, it was depraved and debauched, two of his favourite things.

All the same, the ransacked room had been a shock.

The combination of worrying about Miss Baxter and wondering if the lady had been indulging in lustful thoughts about him combined to chase away any possibility of sleep, however. So, he was up at the arse crack of dawn, washed, shaved and dressed, long before the ladies appeared.

Making his way down to the stable, Hart sought Toby and found the lad in the stall beside the handsome gelding he’d hired back in Little Valentine.

The lad looked up as Hart approached.

“I’ve given him a good brush. He’s fine as fivepence now,” he said proudly.

“Thank you kindly. He is, indeed,” Hart said, tossing the lad a coin before leaning on the stable door. The horse snuffled at his ear as he watched the boy pocket his coin with a grin. “Did you have a good dinner?”

“Cor, it were massive. I never ate grub like that before. I had a piece of apple pie as big as my head!” Toby exclaimed, using his hands to illustrate the dimensions in case they were not immediately obvious.

Hart laughed at his enthusiasm. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

The boy nodded, picking up the brush again to stroke the gelding's sleek sides. Watching him work, Hart considered the lad, wondering which was the best tack to take. In the end, he decided against trying to be subtle, he hadn’t the foggiest notion how to be discreet and would make a mull of it.

“Have you known Miss Baxter long?”

Toby sent him a wary look and Hart wondered if he’d been instructed to hold his tongue.

“I mean the ladies no harm, lad. Quite the opposite. I’m worried about them. Did you know someone broke into their room last night?”

Toby frowned, the brush pausing as he stared at his worn boots. Hart stared at them too, noticing now that they were too large for the child and so worn they could not be weatherproof. A stabbing sensation in the vicinity of his chest suggested he’d be buying the young shaver a new pair in the near future.

Toby glanced up at him and nodded. “Aye. I heard. It were all anyone could talk about. They ain’t never had such a thing happen here before.”

Hart nodded, having heard the same tale from Mr Kimble. Of course, the man would say that, but Hart had believed his horror at the appalling event happening upon his premises had been genuine.

“Do you think someone means Miss Baxter harm?” he asked, wishing his heart would stop throwing itself about behind his ribs at the very idea. If there was, only let him get his hands on the devil. Now that he would not mind a bit. It had been an age since he’d enjoyed a good mill.

Waterloo did not count. He shuddered and pushed the memories of that dreadful day aside.

War had been something he’d been good at, and he might have enjoyed it too, if not for all the killing. There was a world of difference between two equally matched, healthy fellows knocking seven bells out of each other and doing a fellow to death—and then another, and another.

His stomach roiled, and he sucked in a breath, returning his attention to Toby, who was considering his question.

“Don’t reckon so.”

Hart nodded, having expected nothing else. “Do you know why she’s going to Eynsford?”

Toby looked shifty.

“I won’t tell,” Hart promised. “I only want to keep them safe, but ladies are stubborn creatures and they won’t give me a straight answer.”

The lad rubbed the back of his neck. “They’re looking for someone. A lady.”

“A lady?” Hart echoed, admitting to himself he was somewhat disappointed by this revelation. “What kind of lady?”

Toby shrugged, turning to look at him. “A dead one.”

Now, that was more like it.

By a little after seven o’clock, their party was back on the road again.