Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin (11 page)

‘Tell me about this Mr Gervaise that we are seeking.’ And he had changed again. This time, it was his voice that was gruff, like the growling of a dog when meeting a rival. The sheer masculinity of it made the hair on the back of her neck prickle.

She thought for a moment, searching for a way to answer the question without revealing too many of the details of Priss’s embarrassing flight from home. ‘Mr Gervaise is a most pleasant gentleman,’ she said. And then added, ‘I believe he is a French viscount.’ That was most likely a complete invention. For all she knew Gerard Gervaise had been born plain Gerry Jarvis.

Mr Hendricks grunted in disgust.

‘He ran from France when Boney came to power,’ she assured him, fearing that he thought that her family was consorting with the enemy.

‘How very tragic for him,’ Hendricks allowed in a flat voice. ‘And yet it is romantic in just the way that ladies appreciate. They think a French title is better than none at all. He is wealthy as well, I suppose?’

‘A man of independent means,’ she hedged. For wasn’t his temporary employment a form of independence? Mr Hendricks was similarly self-reliant, now that she thought of it.

The independent man next to her grunted again. ‘And I’ll wager he is handsome as well.’

‘Very.’ That at least she could answer with sincerity. ‘He is a little taller than you, well formed and with clear dark eyes and features that manage to be both strong and fine. He is quite charming as well. And an excellent dancer.’ Of course, his profession required that of him. But his looks and manners were an asset. Taking it all into account, she could not blame her impressionable sister for running away with him.

‘And the woman he is with?’

‘Of no consequence,’ she said hurriedly. The last person she wished to discuss, when a man was holding her in his arms, was her prettier and more charming sister. He would see her soon enough and note the differences between them. If her luck continued as it had so far, his attention to her would evaporate like a morning mist in the face of the sunny blonde delicacy that was Priss.

‘I would find it difficult to live with myself if our actions in parting them caused her hardship or disgrace.’

‘Do not worry about her,’ Dru added hurriedly. ‘I will see to it that she is back in the fold of her family by the end of the week.’ With the doors and windows locked to prevent any more nonsense. ‘If we manage to keep the trip a secret, her honour will be untouched.’ Because appearance was all. ‘And after?’

‘After?’ Mr Hendricks said dully, as though he had not thought that there would be an end to the trip.

‘Your plans, as I remember them, were somewhat vague when we met.’ Perhaps a nudge would be all it took to remind him that there was a woman in his arms.

‘That is a kind way to describe my situation,’ he replied. ‘I was drunk and broken hearted. And ready to throw myself into the North Sea.’

‘And how are you now?’ she asked, hopefully.

‘Sober. But otherwise unchanged.’

She had forgotten the story he’d told her the first night, dismissing his past as unimportant, since it did not concern the trip. ‘When we met, you said that you were avoiding the company of a lady…’

‘I had the misfortune to fall in love with her,’ he finished. ‘But I did not tell you that she was the wife of my employer.’

‘Lady Folbroke?’ Though she could not remember meeting the Earl, she had met Emily Longesley at a rout, during one of the countess’s rare appearances in London. She had been as beautiful as Priss, and with a lively wit that held the attention of every man in the room. She had been friendly and welcoming, even to a spinster elder sister, urging her away from the chaperons’ corner to sit with one of Priss’s beaus. The prospect that her Mr Hendricks might, even now, be comparing her with such a nonpareil made her want to sink beneath the hay in embarrassment.

‘She and her husband were estranged for much of the last three years. I spent most of my time relaying information between the two. I grew to be quite smitten with her.’

‘And I suppose she is very unhappy in her marriage,’ she said, wanting to think the best of the situation.

‘Not particularly. If you are spinning wild fancies about an evil husband and a beautiful countess in need of rescue, do not bother yourself.’ His arm tightened about her for a moment, as though drawing strength before remembering something painful. ‘While Emily was certainly beautiful enough to be such a heroine, her husband was equally handsome and vastly superior to me in wealth and position. He was also a man I counted as a friend.’

‘Then she was unfaithful to him,’ Drusilla supplied. ‘And led you astray.’

‘On the contrary. Even when they were apart, she doted on him. She had no interest in me whatsoever, and made the fact quite plain.’

‘How very cruel.’

‘Cruelty is a kindness, when the object is being as obtuse as I was. It had reached the point where the parties involved could no longer ignore my feelings. I revealed myself not in some sort of dramatic and romantic declaration, but in a few and fumbling words that were unwelcome and ill received.’

Dru wound her arms around him and pressed her face into his shirt front. She felt his embarrassment as if it were her own: a replay of a dozen days, where some chance word revealed her feelings to those around her, only to find them unwelcome.

In return, he gave her an awkward pat on the back. ‘Adrian was very understanding about the whole thing. Emily would have looked the other way as well. But I was too embarrassed to remain in the house. I quit my position that same day. Then I packed my bag, drank myself into oblivion and took a seat in the wrong coach.’

‘How awful for you,’ she managed. And for her as well, if his actions tonight were an attempt to forget another.

‘Not so very bad, I think.’ He gave her a kind smile. ‘Travelling with you has taken my mind off my troubles.’

So that was all she had been to him: a temporary diversion. ‘I am glad to be of help,’ she said, closing her eyes tight and burrowing into his coat.

‘Emily was delightful company and we worked well together. I have many fond memories of time spent with her and the dreams I had when I thought there might be hope for me.’

‘I can see where you would be tempted, if you worked in close proximity with her. She is quite lovely.’
Please, do not tell me about her and all the ways she is unlike me.
‘But in the end, I think you made a sensible choice in leaving,’ she said, wanting the conversation to end.

There was a pause and he brought a hand up to stroke her hair. ‘I just wanted you to know that the revelation of my infatuation with Lady Folbroke, and my behaviour when you met me, were out of character for me. I can always be counted on to do the sensible thing in the end, Lady Drusilla. Some of us are cursed with a natural stability.’

‘Lucky for the rest of the world that we are,’ she said.

‘But even the most sensible of us are not immune to love.’

‘You make it sound rather like influenza.’

He laughed again. ‘It is like a sickness, in a way.’

And you have given it to me.
How could he lie beside her and have no idea what she felt for him, or what his philosophical musing was doing to her?

He went on as though it were nothing. ‘I pined over Emily for several years in silence. But recently, being forced to see the hopelessness of it…’ His hands on her stilled again. ‘In telling you this, I meant to dissuade you from your cause and show you the hopelessness of reasoning with people who love. But it seems, Lady Drusilla, that you have persuaded me. It is not that I do not believe in constancy of affection. While I was caught up in them, I would have sworn that my feelings for Emily were everlasting. They are fading, after only a few days. If the union you seek to dissolve is of such a transient nature, then perhaps you will have more success than I first thought.’

‘I am glad you think so. It is good to have hope.’
In something, at least.

‘I think so as well. If I land on my feet after this, I mean to take my recent behaviour as a sign and find a wife, if only to clear the nonsense from my head.’ He did not sound terribly enthused about it. But she understood the need to have some plan to anchor his future to. Marriage was certainly better than throwing himself into the sea.

He laughed. ‘Of course, the girls that I have the right to court would bore me to tears.’

‘And what sort of women might they be?’ she pressed, almost afraid of the answer.

‘Women with parents who are not bothered that my own father will not claim me,’ he said. ‘And I should learn to accept that fact as well. When I was enamoured of the countess, it was not just her husband that was the problem. I tend to overreach myself. It is the height of foolishness on my part. I will not allow myself to make that mistake again, I assure you.’ He pulled away from her and looked into her eyes with his serious amber ones. ‘It is time I learned my place and to be content in it.’

He traced the curve of his bottom lip as though the touch were a farewell kiss. Then he pulled his coat up to cover them both and pulled her close, offering his arm for a pillow. ‘And now we should rest. If we get an early start, we will steal a march on your escaping lovers and have them before luncheon.’

Chapter Eleven

D
amn it.
Damn it.
Damn it.

The curses in John’s mind rung in time to the strike of the horse’s hooves. Dru had lain in his arms all night and he had slept not a wink. And the sweet torment of loving Emily was nothing, compared to what he was experiencing now.

He’d lulled her, and touched her, and brought her to climax. Then she’d spurned him. And five minutes later, she’d lured him back to bed, so she could tell him that she had no intention of giving up the trumped-up French noble she was chasing after.

He gave a snort of disgust. It was just as likely that, if he gave the man a firm shaking, he’d turn out to be an English nobody putting on a fine accent and a tight coat to get on the right side of the ladies. When they caught up to the beggar today, he’d have to put up with his Dru fawning all over the man and holding the handkerchief while some other poor chit wept her eyes out.

And she was not
his Dru
at all, he reminded himself firmly. She was Lady Drusilla Rudney. He should call her by her title as often as he could, to re-establish the distance between them. Seeing a woman’s legs did not entitle him to an intimate acquaintance.

Although grabbing her between those legs should have. Apparently, the peerage, when one got them alone in the dark, was a different sort of animal entirely. She had awoken the next morning showing no sign that the previous day had affected her at all. She’d combed the straw from her hair, splashed a bit of water in her face and declared herself ready to travel. And it had all been done without so much as a ‘Good morning, John’.

It had been Mr Hendricks this and Mr Hendricks that since the first night. And ‘a little farther before we stop, Mr Hendricks’ all this morning. Of course, now that he thought of it, she had never used his first name at all. That should have been a warning to him.

He had learned nothing at all by his experience. He had given a fine speech to her last night about knowing his place, and not repeating past mistakes. But it was all lies. In less than a week, he had transferred the affection he had felt for Emily to the next inappropriate female.

Of course, Dru was as unlike Emily as it was possible to be. Dark where Emily was pale. Cool where she had been warm, awkward where she had been graceful. And interested in him in a very personal way. She had shown more than a passionate response to his touches. She had been curious about him, sympathetic, and desired to be reassured that he would be well, even after they’d parted.

She cared.

Or she had last night. This morning, she seemed to have forgotten what had gone on between them and to be utterly indifferent to his presence. She was back to stalking the unfortunate Gervaise like she had ice in her veins.

And it was likely his own fault. If he had wanted more from her, then he should have declared his interest and not made a dramatic show of setting her free. He could have spared them both the pretty words about not overreaching and his plans to stick to his own class in the future. If she’d felt any lasting affection for him, he had crushed it with his reminders of the unbreachable distance between and his decisions to set up housekeeping on the other side of it.

This morning he should not be encouraging her to pursue a man who did not deserve her. When they’d come to an inn, he’d hopped off his horse and raced inside to hear that the elegant black carriage they were seeking was just ahead of them. After that, he’d persuaded her it was time to cast off his clothes and dress like a lady again before they came to another inn, reminding her that she did not want to catch up with the man looking like she’d spent two days in a haystack with him.

She had taken her bag down from her horse, stepped behind a hedge beside the road and he had stood guard, back politely turned so that he would not catch a glimpse of his employer’s delectable flesh. She’d reappeared a short time later in a travelling gown of deep green, braiding her long black hair so that she could pin it up under her bonnet.

He reached out and plucked another bit of hay from it, then stepped a respectful distance away.

She gave him a curt thank you, then said, without much confidence, ‘Is the rest of me all right? It has been so long since I’ve seen a mirror.’

‘Very fetching, Lady Drusilla. But straighten the bow on your bonnet. To the left. Just so.’ And when he was sure she was occupied with her ribbon, he tucked the hay into his pocket as a keepsake.

He’d helped her up on his horse to ride the last few miles to the inn where they would hire a carriage; he had tried not to think of the extremely sensible drop-front gowns she favoured. He’d enough experience with women to know that they were a boon to mankind. Without even undoing a button, he could slip a hand inside her bodice and bid her a proper goodbye.

Then he had reminded himself that the fact they were alone did not give him the right to take liberties. She was young, although she pretended that she was not. And a virgin, even though she was not as innocent as when he’d found her. She was not married, but she might as well have been. She had given her heart elsewhere.

Take it back.
He could rein in the horse and tell her how he felt, pull her to the ground and prove to her that there was no need to chase an unwilling man all the way to Scotland, when there was one right beside her who would stick like a burr if she gave him a chance.
Take her heart back and keep it for yourself.

And do what with her? Shout, ‘I love you. It has only been three days. And I am not worthy. But I am falling in love with you.’

Marry me.

He wished he could think of a way to make it all more palatable. They were well suited in temperament, used to being the ones pushed to the side and left to clean up the messes of others. That alone should have gained some sympathy from her. He understood her in a way that no other man could. He would make her happy, as she would him.

If he’d had savings, or family, or even a position…but no. Employment was likely to make it worse. ‘Come away with me, my darling, to my tiny room in Cheapside and live as a clerk’s wife.’ He winced at the banality of it. Perhaps he could beg his way back to Folbroke. They would probably allow him to bring a wife into the household, relieved that he would no longer be sniffing after the countess.

But what kind of future might that be for Dru? Not at all what she’d been raised to expect from marriage. She was trained to navigate flawlessly in society and control a large household staff while her husband made laws and collected rents gained from the labour of others. She would be equal in birth to his employers. Yet, because of him, she would always be set aside. There was no hope for them at all. No place for him in her life, other than as a lackey. And no place in his world that she could possibly want.

So he did nothing. She sat primly in front of him on the saddle and he touched her no more than was necessary, riding as quickly as he could for the next inn.

* * *

When they arrived, John dropped to the ground and steeled nerves that had been worn to tissue since he’d received that fateful kick on the ankle. Then he held out his arms and Dru slid from the horse and down his body to the ground. It would have been better to let her stumble than to ever touch her again. But touching her was far too nice and he was running out of reasons to do it.

And he’d sworn as her breasts grazed his chest that the nipples tightened to demonstrate their awareness of him, even though their owner did not. There was nothing in those huge dark eyes to indicate any arousal at all. Only a deeper furrowing of her brow, and a slight tightening of her lush lips. She probably thought it was a grimace of disapproval, but it only made them seem more kissable.

‘What are we to do now?’

‘You may wait in the parlour, my lady. Take refreshment. Relax and let me see to all. I will ask about the ones you seek and hire a post-chaise and driver.’

As he escorted her into a room already crowded with waiting travellers, he could see the wistful gratitude in her eyes at the thought of a soft chair and a cool drink. It made him wish that he’d had a right to put that small smile upon her face by offering something other than such a mundane service. Then he pushed the thought away, led her to her seat and went about his business, as he was paid to do it.

The hostler informed him that Mr Gervaise and his ‘sister’ had indeed stayed the previous night in his best room. The innkeeper gave a disapproving shake of his head that said that the girl was clearly no one’s sister, but that it was no business of his. The couple had argued endlessly, much to the annoyance of the other guests. The gentleman had ended the night shut out from his bed and asleep in a chair by the parlour fire. The girl had been slow in rising, and there had been much more fighting and slamming of doors to get her out of her bed and back into the carriage. But at last, they had gone, travelling northwards little more than an hour before.

If the couple was the sort to dally, which it was obvious they were, then they might be found at the next stop, or perhaps the one after. John could feel the eagerness to be done, like an itch that must be scratched. They would catch up before they reached Scotland. Lady Drusilla would have her Frenchman back and they would tack a plaster on the wounded honour of the other girl. There would be much weeping all around; John would be left to nod sympathetically, get the coach turned around and get everyone back to London before their absences were noted.

It would be over. And he could pocket his earnings, open his flask and return to his original plan to drown his broken heart. But as God was his witness, he would ride on top with the driver before getting back in a closed carriage to sit opposite Dru and her lover. There was a limit to the extent his gentlemanly manners would carry him and he expected to reach it well before nightfall.

* * *

A short time later, after a visit to the stables, he was back before his lady to explain why everything could not be accomplished as promised.

‘If there is no chaise to let us, then get the innkeeper to give us more horses,’ she said. ‘I will don trousers again, and we can bump along as we have been.’

John shook his head. ‘I have seen the poor nags in the stable, and I doubt they will take us one mile, much less ten. All the beasts with any spirit are saved for harness, and the best of them are hitched to the Reliant, the coach that runs regularly on this stretch of road. It is waiting in the courtyard now.’

‘Then buy us two tickets for the stage.’ She gave him a stubborn smile as though wondering why he had not suggested the obvious solution.

‘It is full up,’ he said with equal mulishness. ‘And delayed to boot. The passengers surround you now. It seems the driver imbibed too deeply last night and has his head stuck in a slop bucket. He is in no condition to drive anyone anywhere, and unlikely to be so for several hours.’

Dru’s eyes narrowed, clearly looking for someone to blame. ‘You are telling me they are nearly in our grasp, we have money in our pocket and yet they will escape us?’

He gritted his teeth. All he had to say was ‘yes’, and offer an apology. The man she loved would slip through her fingers and over the border with another girl, leaving Drusilla angry, but free.

But free for what? There was no chance that he would have her. None at all. He would only be leaving her free for some other man. And if he was unfortunate, she would compliment his efforts to her father and he could stay on in the household to watch her marry another.

‘No,’ he said. ‘This is not the end, unless you wish it to be. How strong are your nerves?’

She smiled at him; there was the playful spark in her eyes that made his heart tighten. ‘You ought to know the answer to that by now.’

‘Then keep the innkeeper occupied, while I ready the horses. We will steal the coach.’

For a moment, he had surprised her. ‘You cannot mean it.’

‘You did not baulk at highway robbery when I begged you to reconsider. Do not tell me you are having second thoughts about a life of crime, just as I develop a taste for it.’

‘But who shall drive?’

He smiled at her and was pleased to see a flush on her cheeks and a slight dip of her head, as though she did not want to show him the excitement that was written plain on her face. ‘Just do as I say.’