Page 9 of The Lady’s No Angel

Angel and Milly glanced at each other, eyes wide, and Angel struggled to deny the smile that wanted to curve her lips. She knew she ought to be suspicious, cross even, at the temerity of the fellow, but then again, it was a public road and a well-used one. Why ought he not be going in the same direction as them? If he hadn’t been, they would never have met.

The big bay came up alongside them as the singing grew louder.

“They’ve ploughed, they’ve sown, they’ve harrowed him in, thrown clods upon his head—” Mr Cleaver broke off as he glanced down at them, his face a comical mask of surprise. “Why, Miss Baxter, Miss Milly, what a coincidence!”

“Indeed, Mr Cleaver,” Angel said wryly. “One might almost believe you were following us.”

“Me? Following? Oh, no.” He shook his head with every appearance of gravity. “That would make me appear a rogue, a dreadful fellow with nefarious intentions. No, indeed. I’m going to visit my uncle.”

He said it with a straight face, the rat, and even when Angel narrowed her eyes at him, giving him the death stare she had learned from her Pops, he just returned a guileless smile of such innocence that she could not keep it up.

“Your uncle?” she repeated, daring him to continue with such a blatant falsehood.

He nodded. “Yes, my uncle—but wait, were you not going to see your aunt? You don’t suppose they know each other?” He blinked at her, a butter-wouldn’t-melt expression on his handsome face that likely had women forgiving him all manner of wickedness.

“Really, Mr Cleaver,” Angel said, shaking her head at him. “If you cannot lie convincingly, you really ought not to make the attempt.”

“Ah,” he said, his broad shoulders heaving in a sigh. “Well, it was worth a try.”

He turned back to her, his hazel eyes twinkling.

“You had better make a clean breast of it,” she told him severely, aware she was flirting with the fellow but quite unable to stop herself. “What are you up to?”

He looked away from her and rode in silence for a moment before meeting her gaze. There was quite a different look there now, and Angel felt whatever he might say next, it would be the truth.

His voice was gentle, the deep rumble falling pleasantly upon her ears. “I have the strangest feeling, Miss Baxter, that you do not have an aunt in Eynsford. Indeed, I fear you may be in some kind of trouble, or that you are heading directly towards it. As I am at a loose end at present, and in dire need of distraction, or even a bit of adventure should such a thing present itself, I should be honoured if you would allow me to escort you and act as er… guard dog.”

Milly shot Angel a worried glance as Angel put up her chin, unnerved that he had seen through them with such ease. “You are very sure of yourself, sir. I do not think it unreasonable to suppose I have an aunt in Eynsford.”

“No, indeed, but I rather think you’d remember her name,” he pointed out with a smug smile.

“At least I remembered my own name,” Angel shot back, quirking an eyebrow at him.

He laughed at that, gazing at her with undisguised admiration. “Touché.”

Angel wondered who he really was and why he’d hide it. Was he in some kind of trouble? He had excellent manners and spoke like a gentleman, but he seemed too rough-hewn, too down at earth and not at all top lofty. Perhaps he was gentry, a local landowner perhaps, or a gentleman farmer. She could see that.

“Your name’s not really Leo Cleaver, then?” she pressed.

He shrugged his broad shoulders. “It’s close enough.”

“Why lie?” she asked. Was his hale fellow well met act just that? What if he really did have nefarious intentions?

“Why invent an aunt in Eynsford?” he countered. His gaze focused upon her with unnerving intensity. “You are running away, Miss Baxter, or running towards, and either might land you in a fix of the kind you’ll not easily escape from.”

“You cannot know that,” Angel exclaimed with a huff.

“No, but if I were your papa, I suspect would not allow such a pretty creature out alone with only a maid and a young lad for protection.”

Angel pursed her lips and said nothing for a while.

“He’s awful big,” Milly observed under her breath. “Might be nice to have a… a…”

“Guard dog,” Mr Cleaver supplied helpfully, proving there was nothing wrong with his hearing.

Angel scowled at him. “And what would you want in return for your service?” she asked, still sceptical despite her certainty that he was exactly what he appeared to be, although he’d given a false name. She had reasons for keeping her name a secret, it was not unreasonable to suppose he did too.

He looked rather offended by her question. “Not a blessed thing,” he said indignantly. “Only to see you safe where you’re going, and to enjoy your company on the way. The road can be lonely when you travel it alone.”