A Dangerous Courtship (18 page)

"Aye, too many miles," Shelton said. "But you'll no doubt be impressed with her ladyship's carriage. Smart and fleet it is, designed to have four cattle at its head. The road back to London won't be so long, given the carriage's light weight and the prime cattle we'll hitch to it along the way. Earl Wrothram spares no expense—not even for the daughter he thinks is a light skirt."

Julian winced at that last remark, but followed Shelton nonetheless. They'd come to an understanding, he and this brute of a coachman. Julian was glad.

Far better it would be to ride the Great North Road back to the heart of London with Shelton as his ally instead of his enemy. With the coachman's blunderbuss and brawn, and with Julian's dogged determination and fearlessness, they might actually see Veronica delivered safely back home—and directly into the arms of the "friend" she was reluctant to name... a person who might even be the one man Veronica had thought to marry.

Less than an hour later, Julian watched as Veronica, garbed in a travelling dress of the prettiest lilac, and accompanied by her abigail, made her way toward the smart carriage with its team of four. The carriage's colors of maroon and gold flamed in the early morning light.

Julian sat astride his own mount, the beast showing eager signs to be on the open road.

"Good morning, my lady," Julian said to Veronica, wishing now that he had a proper hat atop his head so that he could tip it her way in gentlemanly fashion. But alas he was clothed in his threadbare shirt and breeches, scuffed boot, and little else. With no hat to tip, he leaned slightly forward at the waist, hoping to convey to her with that small gesture that he'd not be acting like the lowly beast she must think him to be. As he did so, the ends of the ribbon he'd been bequeathed by the inn's maid lifted slightly with the breeze, playing atop each of his broad shoulders.

Veronica glanced up at Julian from beneath the wide brim of her straw hat, trimmed around the crown with flouncy ostrich plumes. If she was surprised by the pricey horseflesh he sat atop, she made no show of it. Julian caught a glimpse of those stunning violet eyes of hers, saw the way her kissable mouth pursed briefly as she contemplated how much or how little he might be saying in front of her servants, and then, with a quick answering nod toward him, looked away.

"Oh, m'lady," Julian heard the abigail exclaim, "d'not say 'at dang'rous strang'r frum last night be joinin' us on our jo'rney 'ome!"

"Very well," he heard Veronica reply. "I'll not be saying it, Nettie. Now do climb inside while I speak with Shelton."

The maid cast a wide-eyed glance up at Julian, then scurried to climb the iron steps Shelton had let down from the carriage.

Veronica looked at her coachman, lifting her chin in what could only be a brave bit of daring. "I-I have hired this man to be our guard during our journey home, Shelton. Given all that could beset us over the many miles back to Town, I-I thought it would be best."

"Very good, my lady," Shelton replied, doing his best to maintain a stony face.

Julian noted Veronica's brief hesitation at her coachman's docile attitude. Carefully, she added, "I... I may even keep the man in my employ once we reach London."

For good measure the coachman appeared as though he would protest mightily and question her decision, but then nodded, and said simply, "Aye, my lady. As you see fit."

Veronica cast the man a quizzical glance, clearly surprised by his response. She'd doubtless expected him to give her a difficult time and to prove to be a brick wall.

Shelton merely stood still, awaiting the moment when she climbed into the carriage. Veronica, casting another glance at Julian from beneath the brim of her bonnet, did just that.

Shelton lifted the steps back into place, shut the door, then moved to climb atop his box, taking up his whip as he did so.

In the next moment, the coachman urged the horses into motion, and the smart carriage sprang forward, away from the Red Lion Inn and heading south to London, Julian riding at a brisk pace behind.

Chapter 11

A fuming Veronica sat stiffly atop the rich leather squabs inside her carriage, staring straight ahead and feeling absolutely furious. After a long, restless night of fretting about how she would approach with Shelton the subject of Julian being her guard, and equally long hours and reflecting about her wanton thoughts and reactions whenever she was in the Julian's presence, what should she come out of the inn to find? Her coachman acting like some docile bit of mash... and Julian—
oh, Julian
—astride some fancy bloodstock that could only have been purchased at Tattersall's (or stolen from some swell who
had
purchased the beast there) looking smug and as cleaned up as a shiny new penny!

To think she'd wasted an entire night of sleep fussing about the man, wondering if he was comfortable outside her door, wondering if he'd be set upon by those thugs again while keeping watch over her, worrying about his hearing and if the beating he'd taken could have caused him serious damage, worrying about his eye and if he'd be able to see clearly once the swelling went down... and—and thinking,
blast it all,
about every breath she could hear him draw at the other side of her door.

Clearly she shouldn't have bothered to worry one second over his welfare. He seemed to have fared perfectly well on his own!

Did the man have to appear so blasted refreshed this morning, as though he'd slept the sleep of the innocent and not the damned, and had just partaken of a king's feast? He'd somehow managed to tear himself away from the ridiculous business of being her personal guard long enough to clean himself up. And that ribbon in his hair—
where on earth
had he managed to procure
that?
she wondered, angry at herself for thinking him far too handsome with his black locks pulled back, one lone wave falling rakishly over his battered eye. And drat her own traitorous body for responding to the sight of him like some lovesick chit!

"He be ev'r so 'andsome," said Nettie, as though reading her lady's thoughts and nodding in perfect agreement.

"What? Who?" Veronica demanded.

"The man you found to guard us back to Town, o' course. Where'v'r did y' find 'im?"

Beneath a rock
,
Veronica wanted to say,
and I welcome him to climb back under it
!

Nettie, however, did not wait for her lady to answer; her attention was now focused on the window—or rather, the person she could see through the small pane.

"Yer guard, 'e be ridin' fer the road in front of us, no doubt t' check fer 'ighwaymen and the like." Nettie let out a sigh, thoroughly enchanted. "Not only 'andsome but brave, too. Stop me, m'lady, but y' sh'ld be 'irin' all the servants, I vow, if this be proof of yer fine taste in such matters."

"Really, Nettie. That is quite enough."

The abigail wasn't listening. In a rash heat of excitement, the girl let down the window, then stuck her head fully out, her poke bonnet banging against the top side of it as she did so. "Sir," she called to Julian, no doubt sending him a silly, moon-eyed smile. "I never be seein' such a fine horse, I swears! Howev'r did y' come by it?"

Julian leaned down, running one large and gloved hand over his horse's sleek black neck. "'Twas a gift, mistress," he said, sending the maid a jaunty smile. He met Veronica's furious gaze over the girl's bonnet, then added, "A gift from a friend... one who did not even expect me to, say, perform a mission for it."

"Oh," breathed Nettie, clearly enthralled, "we sh'ld all 'ave such fine friends, sir."

"Yes," agreed Julian. "We should indeed." And again, his darkling gaze met with Veronica's.

His meaning was not lost on her.

"That's enough, Nettie," Veronica snapped. "Do get your body back in here, sit down, and—and behave yourself. I'll not have you hanging out the window, ogling the man, or even talking to him. 'Tis unseemly."

"Yes, m'lady," said Nettie, chastened. She slid once again down onto the seat, plopped her body back against the squabs and remained sullenly quiet.

But Nettie was correct. Julian's mount was indeed a pricey one and not at all in keeping with what one would expect of a lowly riverkeep who dwelled in the prisons of some ruinous abbey. Had he stolen the animal, expensive saddle and all—plus the fine gloves he was now wearing? Was this dangerous stranger a thief of the highest order?

It did not bear thinking of all Julian could be or have done; the possibilities were endless and Veronica had known that fact from the first moment she'd met him.

No, what bothered her most at the moment was that Julian had somehow managed to worm his way into the good graces of her coachman. That Nettie had taken a quick shine to him was not so remarkable. The girl's head would turn at any handsome face, no matter how bruised and cut. But Shelton, he was much more worldly wise than her fanciful abigail, which left Veronica with only one conclusion. The two of them had doubtless met up at some point between darkness and dawn, and had come to some sort of an agreement.

Could Shelton have struck a bargain with Julian, cajoling him with promises of heavy payment to go before her father and tell all of what had happened at Fountains?

Veronica's blood went cold at the possibility. What her father would do, if he ever learned of her sojourn north, she didn't even dare consider. His cruelty to her during her youth would probably pale in comparison....

Veronica vowed to herself that before they reached London she would have a strong word alone with Julian.

* * *

It was at Grantham,
finally,
that Veronica, dressed in her riding habit, hired a hack and determined to ride to the next stage at Stamford alongside Julian. She was not surprised when Shelton allowed her her head in this decision.

An audience with the Prince Regent would doubtless have been easier to orchestrate than a private moment with Julian during this journey back to London. Over the many miles they'd traveled since Ripon and the many stages they'd paused at, Julian had thoroughly charmed her abigail and appeared to have won over the prickly Shelton. With a grace that seemed to come easily to him he had won the undying respect of every innkeep, ostler, serving maid, and chambermaid with whom they came in contact. His growing popularity incensed Veronica no small amount.

She urged her rented saddle horse into motion, hurrying to catch up.

"You might consider slowing your pace," she called to Julian. "I am trying to have a word with you—and
have been
since we left Ripon."

Julian glanced back, slowing his beast to an easy stride at sight of her. "My lady," he said, inclining his head slightly in greeting, even tipping the low-crowned hat he'd somehow procured during their travels. The thing was of dubious origin, brown in color, and sported a single fresh rose, probably passed to him by some admiring young maid. "If you wished to speak with me, my lady, all you had to do was say so. As I recall from our conversation at the inn, I am to do as you demand whenever you deign... something akin to a—what was it? Ah, yes, a slave."

Rude of him to remind her—and blast it, the idea of his being her slave had been
his,
not hers.

"Oh?" Veronica replied instead, sounding churlish even to her own ears. "And when, pray, have you even offered me that chance? It appears you've been far too busy with all your admirers along the road. And by the bye, whatever were you doing outside the private parlour while I dined last evening?"

"Curious? You could have opened the door and found out."

Veronica sent him a withering look.

Julian laughed. "Ah, my lady is in no mood for guessing, no? Very well, I'll tell. The boot boy came along. He had some dice in his pocket and time on his hands, so he challenged me to a few rolls; if he lost I'd get my boots shined, free of charge." He glanced at the road ahead of them.

"And?" Veronica demanded when Julian seemed done with talking.

He nodded toward his newly polished boots. "And I'd say he did a bang-up job."

Veronica was in no mood to play at small talk or endure Julian's newfound good humor.

Eyes narrowing, she said, "You appear to have planked the gap with my coachman. Do you care to explain that, sir?"

"What's to explain?" he asked with a shrug of his broad shoulders. "I simply informed the fellow I'd be your guard during the journey back to London. Given the fact you raced north to Yorkshire with no footman, I s'pose the chap was glad enough to have another man along for the ride."