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He turned, quickly, wondering where the hell he’d left his cane. He couldn’t see it in the twilight, and it was too dangerous to wait. Limping, he made his way out of her rooms as fast as his aching leg would let him, closing the door silently behind him.
23
Jane let him hand her back up into the carriage, closing the door behind her. He hadn’t done anything but offer her his hand when needed, and she knew a sudden lowering of spirits after the exhilaration of seeing Mr. Bothwell felled like a stone, and she sat back in her seat, her hands folded neatly in her lap as the carriage moved forward with a jerk. A faint, melancholy smile danced across her lips. He really wasn’t a very adept coach man.
He was, however, far more of a gentleman than her erstwhile fiancé. He wouldn’t stand by and let a lady be bullied, and he’d brought her safely home in the first place, when a king of thieves would certainly have more important things to do. Of course, he probably wanted to retrieve the ring that he’d quixotically put on her finger. But that was in the dark, when he hadn’t had a good look at her. Ever since he’d seen her clearly he’d been the soul of propriety, no doubt regretting that soul-searing midnight kiss.
Well, soul-searing for her, Jane amended with great practicality. Midnight kisses were most likely de rigueur for thieves.
She had to get to Miranda. If her husband was truly planning to bring her to a meeting of the Heavenly Host, then Miranda could be in grave danger. Everyone had heard the stories, the black masses, the drinking of blood, the orgies and devil worship and human sacrifice. It was of far greater importance than mooning after a man who was so inappropriate he wasn’t beneath her, he may as well be on the moon.
What would her parents say if she told them she’d fallen in love with a thief? Not that she had, of course! She would admit to a mild infatuation, but nothing more. Still, it was an interesting question. What would they do?
Most parents would beat their rebellious daughters and lock them up on a diet of bread and water. But her father had been a man of much experience, a reformed rake and gamester, a vicar before acceding to
the title, a man of great compassion and understanding. He would listen calmly, and pass no judgments.
And her mother, who’d lived her own scarlet life before she’d met her father, would doubtless keep an open mind. She’d always said, “You never know where love might find you, but when you see it, grab it with both hands and hold on tight. ”
But of course, she wasn’t in love. It was simply an interesting supposition to while away the time, the endless time she’d spent in one carriage after another. She’d be far better off worrying about what she’d do for clothing. It had been bad enough spending two days on the road with two dresses, clean undergarments and a bowl of cool water to freshen in. Another three days or however long it might take was lowering. She wanted to run away, to travel, to see different and glorious places and things. She simply wanted the occasional change of clothes, as well.
Was it so wrong for an aspiring adventuress to be fond of the small elegancies of life? Like cleanliness?
Would Mrs. Grudge accompany them this time? How was she going to respond to a former whore known as Long Molly? Well, presumably the same way she responded to a cheerful widow named Mrs. Grudge, she decided. No matter what else she did with her life, Mrs. Grudge was a good and affectionate traveling companion. Not to mention good at making up stories about Jacob the philandering house-servant turned coach driver.
The coach came to its usual abrupt stop, throwing her forward, and she caught the strap just in time to keep from hurtling onto the opposite seat. There was a great deal of conversation outside, most of it unintelligible, and then the door opened and Jacob Donnelly appeared.
She had automatically started for the door when he shook his head. “Not here, Miss Jane. I’ve got a couple of men watching the horses and at least four keeping an eye on the carriage to make sure no one disturbs you. But I’m not having you out among these rogues. ” There was no mirth in his eyes. Clearly the term rogue was an understatement. “This is Beggar’s Ken, home to vagabonds and thieves for the last seventy-five years and no place for a lady. I’ll do my best to get my business done quickly, and then we’ll be on our way. ”
Author: Anne Stuart
“Yes, but. ” She stopped, not wanting to complain.
“Yes, but what?”
“Is there any way we could get some clothes for me? And perhaps something to eat?”
He looked amused, some of the grimness fading from his eyes. “It’ll be seen to. ” He paused. “I can have you safely back at your parents’ house in the countryside if you wish it. You don’t have to stay with me. I promise I won’t let your former fiancé anywhere near you. ” His lip curled in contempt.
He was looking for a way to get rid of her, she thought, her heart dropping. “You don’t have to take me anywhere,” she said, doing a creditable job of sounding unmoved. “I can find a hackney back to my house—by now Mr. Bothwell will have removed himself and I can simply leave orders that he’s not to be admitted. You don’t need to feel you have any responsibility for me. I’m certain there are a great many things you’d rather do than …”
He put one foot on the step, vaulted up and leaned into the dark carriage interior, and she let out a little squeak of nervousness. One that was swallowed by his mouth, closing over hers as he slid one big hand behind her neck, holding her there.
It was a brief, thorough kiss, and when he pulled back she simply sat there, dazed. “There’s nothing I’d rather do. And you needn’t worry I’ll be all over you. I’ll be taking you to Ripton Waters, all right and tight, and leave the rules up to you. But you’ll be treated like a lady. I just wanted to make my point. ”
She was still stunned by his kiss, but she tried to gather some of her shattered intellect. “Ripton Waters? Is that where they are?”
He nodded. “In the Lake District. So it’ll take us two days to get there if we push hard, maybe three. But I’m game if you are, lass. ”
She had no reason why she adored it when he called her “lass,” but it made her stomach warm and her heart smile. “I’m game,” she said. “If it’s not too much trouble. ”
He grinned at her, that same, cheerful, slightly wicked grin. “No trouble at all, Miss Jane. ”
Lucien ate dinner in solitary splendor in the dining room. It was damnably clean, and he’d been right. There were flowers, vases and vases of fresh daffodils, and he could only be glad the greenhouses were in disrepair, or she’d have even worse throughout the house. The daffodils were bad enough, their sunny yellow at war with his mood. He was tempted to take his cane and smash all the vases, but resisted the impulse. He was feeling guilty, and it was making him childish and petulant, and he wanted Miranda to come downstairs with her sunny smile and bait him once more.
But she didn’t. He didn’t see her until the next day, when she sailed into his study wearing a gown of cherry sarcenet with paler trim and he immediately wondered how difficult it would be to get her out of that particular gown. And which dark place he could take her.
“Good morning, Lucien,” she said in that mock-cheerful voice. “My, my, you do tend to immure yourself in your study, do you not?”
