Lady Lyte's Little Secret (7 page)

That he had borne it all with such generous sympathy should have made her feel better…but it did not.

If the past thirty-odd years had taught Felicity Lyte one thing, it was that a woman must be prepared to look after herself and take her own part against the world. No one else could be trusted to do it for her—least of all anyone who wore breeches.

She could not afford to let Thorn Greenwood convince her otherwise.

On the seat opposite Felicity, Thorn stretched his long limbs as a wry chuckle rippled out of him. “If young Armitage can roust my sister out of bed at a reasonable hour of the morning, he’s a better man than I.”

The significance of his words must have struck him, for Thorn’s brow furrowed. “Your nephew would hire separate rooms for them, I hope?”

For some reason, that question rasped against Felicity’s tightly wound nerves.

“Of course Oliver will make certain they have separate lodgings,” she snapped. “My nephew is an honorable young man. Just because he was foolish enough to run away to Scotland with your sister doesn’t mean he’ll compromise her virtue. It’s not as though
she
were an heiress and
he
a fortune hunter.”

For over half a century, Lord Hardwick’s Marriage Act had made it more difficult for unscrupulous men to prey on naive young ladies of fortune. A truly determined number now chanced the long journey to Scotland where underage women could still wed without the consent of their families. Many an unprincipled scoundrel took the added precaution of relieving the young lady of her virginity during the journey.

Thorn glared at Felicity. “Are you accusing my sister of pursuing your nephew for his fortune?”

“She would not be the first.”

The words had barely left her lips before Felicity wished she’d bitten her own tart tongue. Whimsical and imprudent Ivy Greenwood might be. For all that, she seemed a warmhearted, unaffected little thing—unlike
some of the avaricious creatures who’d stalked Oliver during their past several Seasons at Bath.

If she and Thorn found the young lovers at the King’s Arms, as Felicity was certain they would, she might never see him again after today. Perhaps if she picked a quarrel with him and they parted on bad terms, it might trouble them both less.

Felicity wished she could believe it.

Instead she feared the look of injured dignity in Thorn’s expressive eyes would plague her sleepless nights for years to come.

“It might surprise you how many men and woman form romantic attachments with no thought of fortune, madam.” He could have hurled the words at her like an accusation. Instead, Thorn spoke them in a tone of quiet forbearance that vexed Felicity even worse.

The acid retort flew out of her before she could contain it. “When there is no fortune involved, perhaps.”

Thorn did not flinch or strike back, yet something in his steady gaze told Felicity she had just diminished herself in his eyes.

At that moment, her young footman pulled open the carriage door.

Plucking his hat off the seat beside him, Thorn Greenwood prepared to debark. “Let us go collect our strays and be done with it, shall we?”

“By all means.” Felicity let him help her down from the high carriage box, acutely conscious that the chaste touch of his hand would probably be her last.

Once she had firm ground under her feet, she forced herself to pull her hand away. Then she swept into the King’s Arms, leaving Thorn to follow in her wake or not, as he chose.

She found the large entry hall abustle with a party of travelers anxious to make an early departure. Felicity peered around for any sign of Oliver or Ivy among the crowd, but saw none.

She did recognize the innkeeper’s wife, threading her way through the departing guests bearing a breakfast tray for others who would not stir from their lodgings until a more civilized hour.

Might a dish of buttered eggs and kippered herring nestle on that tray beneath the crisp white napkin? Felicity wondered. Oliver insisted a morning diet of fish and eggs stimulated his mental processes.

Once again, his aunt asked herself how an aloof scholar like Oliver Armitage had become entangled with such a flighty little chit as Ivy Greenwood. However it had come about, Felicity vowed to disentangle her nephew. Even if it meant threatening to disinherit him.

The innkeeper appeared just then to present the departing patrons with their bill.

The moment he spied Felicity, he left his other guests to tally their charges while he marched over to greet her with an exaggerated bow.

“Lady Lyte! A great pleasure as always, ma’am. We weren’t expecting to see you back from Bath for a few weeks yet. I fear your usual rooms have been let until the day after tomorrow, but of course we will endeavor to accommodate you as best we can. I remarked to Mr. Armitage just last night that his arrival was all the more welcome for being something of a surprise.”

“So he is here!” Dizzy with relief, Felicity barely refrained from clasping the fastidious retired soldier in an embrace that would have flustered him to death.
“If you would be so good as to show us to Mr. Armitage’s room, I have an urgent need to speak with him.”

The innkeeper’s smile faded as he shook his head. “There must be some mistake, ma’am. Mr. Armitage and his lovely bride dined here last evening. But after that they left for Gloucester to spend the night.”

Behind her, Felicity sensed Thorn give a start at the word
bride
, though he said nothing.

“Gloucester?” she repeated. “Are you certain?”

“Indeed, ma’am. Mr. Armitage was most particular about it. I recollect thinking it a late hour for them to be on the road and hoping they’d be able to find vacant lodgings once they arrived there.”

The innkeeper glanced at his other guests, who looked impatient to be off. “If you’ll excuse me a moment, ma’am…?”

Felicity tried not to let her dismay show. “By all means.”

Once the innkeeper and his guests were occupied, she turned to Thorn. “Gloucester? What could have made Oliver press on so far? We always stop at The King’s Arms on our way to Trentwell.”

“I’d say the
why
is rather obvious, wouldn’t you?” replied Thorn. “They’re eager to reach Gretna as soon as they can. Besides, Armitage is a clever young fellow. No doubt it occurred to him that if you gave chase, this would be the first place you’d come looking.”

How dare Thorn Greenwood sound so calm and rational when her whole world had turned on its head? She had so counted on finding Oliver here and putting a quick stop to this whole troublesome business.

Felicity felt her gorge rise on a bilious tide. “If we
keep driving, might we reach Gloucester before they move on?”

“It’s well over fifteen miles.” Thorn shook his head. “With market traffic, we’d do well to get there by noon. Even Ivy isn’t that excessive a slugabed.”

If Felicity could have got her hands on her nephew and Miss Greenwood, she would have throttled them both. The last thing she needed just then was to be chasing the length of the country after them.

“Besides.” Thorn gestured toward the window, through which Felicity could see her carriage. “We can’t simply pile back in and keep on driving. We need fresh horses, and your poor coachman and footman must get a little rest. Then there’s the small matter of that highwayman. We have to deliver him to someone in authority and swear out a complaint.”

Was the whole world conspiring against her? Felicity asked herself as her palms went clammy and her stomach grew more sour by the minute. If she hadn’t emptied it so thoroughly the night before, she might have been violently ill in front of a room full of strangers.

And, worse still, in front of Thorn Greenwood.

It would serve the woman right if he left her there, Thorn fumed. With his winnings from last night’s card game, perhaps he should pursue young Armitage and his sister on his own, leaving Felicity Lyte to fend for herself.

Except for those few sweet hours after he’d rescued her from the highwayman, Lady Lyte had made it abundantly clear she wanted neither his advice, his assistance nor his company. Why could he not wash his hands of her, as any rational man would?

Until recently, Thorn had prided himself on being a rational fellow. Then he’d stared into Felicity Lyte’s incomparable green eyes and lost himself.

At the moment, that vibrant green looked rather washed-out, while the rosy springtime hue of her complexion had blanched and chilled.

“What’s the matter, my dear?” He caught her icy hand in his. “You look dreadful.”

“And you have a great deal to learn about being a lady’s man, Mr. Greenwood.” Wrenching her fingers from his grip, Felicity looked as though she longed to slap his face with them.

“Of course I look dreadful. Why shouldn’t I? Woken out of a sound sleep to trundle over the countryside in the middle of the night. Accosted by a highwayman. And now with the prospect of chasing the length of England after my ungrateful nephew. I’d probably shatter a mirror if I looked in one.”

The other inn guests were casting inquisitive glances their way. Thorn detested few things worse than being an object of curiosity. He drew Felicity off to a little alcove by the main staircase.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re as lovely as ever. Only, you look wrought up…or ill.”

Before she could fire off a retort, he held up his palms in mock surrender. “Both of which you have good cause to be, I admit. For once, hold your tongue and listen to me. You need proper rest and food, as do your servants and the horses. I’ll arrange that with the innkeeper. Then, while you’re recovering from last night’s journey, I’ll hunt up someone to take that outlaw off our hands.”

For a wonder, Felicity did not interrupt him. She
waited until he’d finished before asking, “What do you propose we do after that?”

Thorn tried to hide his surprise. He’d expected more of a battle from her. “After that we must talk. To decide on our next move.”

“Very well.”

“Do you mean it?”

The old verdant sparks leapt in her eyes once again, igniting an answering flame in Thorn’s formerly rational heart. “What manner of question is that? Do you think I oppose you for amusement?”

“Of course not,” Thorn lied. “I only meant—” What could he say that wouldn’t dig him deeper into trouble? “Never mind.”

The other guests, having settled their bill at last, departed with a maximum of noise and commotion. Thorn found himself glad of the distraction.

Once they had gone, he approached the innkeeper. “We will have to be on our way before nightfall, but in the meantime, Lady Lyte, her driver and her footman all need rooms in which to rest.”

The innkeeper’s eyes lit up. No doubt he relished the prospect of hiring out the same rooms twice in one day. “Always delighted to oblige her ladyship, sir.”

“The horses will need tending, as well.”

“I’ll make certain the hostlers know to take special trouble with them, Mister…”

“Greenwood. Hawthorn Greenwood.” Thorn steeled himself against the fellow’s meddlesome scrutiny. “I’m an old friend of Lady Lyte’s. Her nephew’s…er…bride is my sister.”

“Indeed, sir?” The innkeeper beamed, as people tended to do when speaking of Ivy. “A lively little creature. Not one I’d have picked for a serious young
scholar like Mr. Armitage if I’d had the ordering of it. But love often goes by contraries, then, doesn’t it, sir?”

“Perhaps so.” Did that explain his own intense, wayward feelings for Felicity? Thorn wondered. “By any chance, did my sister or Mr. Armitage mention where they might lodge once they reached Gloucester?”

The innkeeper’s smile widened further. “As it happens, sir, they asked if I could recommend any place that might offer them a warm welcome even if they arrived at a late hour.”

“Did you?” Thorn strove not to sound as desperately interested in the information as he felt.

“I should say so, Mr. Greenwood. The wife’s cousin keeps an inn in the old part of town between the cathedral and the shirehall. It don’t get as busy as the big posting inns on the roads to London and Bristol. I told Mr. Armitage it would be a rare night he and his fair bride couldn’t find a bed there, no matter what hour they knocked.”

“I appreciate your advising them.” Thorn fished out a shilling from his card winnings. He offered it to the innkeeper, who made a token show of refusing before sliding the coin into his own pocket.

“I’ll just see to the rooms for Lady Lyte and her servants, Mr. Greenwood.”

“One more thing, if I may?”

“Aye, sir. What might that be?”

“We ran into a spot of trouble on the road from Bristol—a highwayman.”

“My life, sir!” The innkeeper’s eyes grew wide. “No one hurt, I hope. That scoundrel’s been making
a right nuisance of himself all spring. You’re not my first guests to have been molested by him.”

“I hope we may be the last.” Thorn nodded toward the door. “We fetched the bounder along with us to give an account of himself before the magistrate. Whereabouts should I dispose of him?”

“I’d fetch him over to Berkeley, Mr. Greenwood.” The innkeeper cocked his thumb in a direction Thorn took to be northeast. “They can deal with him there and be obliged to you for the taking of him, I should think.”

As the innkeeper bustled off, Thorn turned back to Felicity, who had sunk down onto a nearby chair. He knew better than to comment on how she looked, but a qualm of guilt rolled low in his belly. She might have slept better stretched out on the carriage seat opposite him than awkwardly nestled on his lap.

He knelt before her and took one of her hands in his. It had warmed a little since he’d touched it a few moments earlier, but not much.

“The innkeeper tells me they can deal with our highwayman over in Berkeley. Will you be all right until I get back?”

“Of course I will.” Felicity sat up straighter. “I’m neither a child nor a tottering old dowager, Mr. Greenwood. I do not need a keeper. You’re quite welcome to cart that awful creature off to London for all I care. I can manage quite well on my own.”

The gall of the woman! Dismissing his concern for her as if he held no higher standing in her life than her driver or her footman.