Lord Nick's Folly (3 page)

"I should say more than slightly." His lopsided grin did the oddest things to her heart. Really, she must have had quite a thump to her noggin. She had known Lord Nicholas for ages, and he had never affected her like this in the past. True, she had never been alone with him like this before, either. The innkeeper's wife didn't count. The woman sat as still as a mouse and said not a word, peering at them from beneath a crisp mobcap as though observing a game of tennis.

"I shall be up and about before you know it," Nympha declared with stout resolution. "My great-aunt will be expecting me in Mansfield soon. I'd not have her worry."

"You will remain in that bed until I say you may get up." He snapped out that order with the lordly manner of one accustomed to being obeyed. "I feel certain your aunt will understand that weather oftentimes interferes with travel."

Nympha merely glowered at him, her mouth set in an obstinate line. "We shall see."

He looked at the innkeeper's wife, then firmly added, "I trust you to keep an eye on her. Miss Herbert's father is a highly respected rector. I believe he rather dotes on this daughter."

Well! Nympha thought, he didn't have to sound as though he couldn't imagine why Papa was fond of his children, and her in particular.

The deferential reply from the lady who perched at Nympha's side soothed her frayed nerves a trifle, although Nympha suspected her regard was because of his elegant lordship, not the rector, much less his daughter.

"I shall see how your coach progresses. The repairs may not take too long if the proper wood can be located—that axle was badly cracked. I know the road was not in best condition, but scarcely bad enough to cause such an accident. Tell me, do you have any enemies?"

His study of her was intent. "Not an enemy in the world that I know about," she said with a pertness she did not feel. Surely there was no one who would wish her ill? Utter nonsense.

He said nothing in reply to her declaration. Rather, he promised to check on her later, and left the room.

Odd, how empty the chamber seemed with his aggravating person gone. She relaxed on her pillow, wondering how many feathers it took to fill it. That was better than wondering what it might be like to make Lord Nicholas smile—a genuine smile of delight.

Her sight of the offending cambric petticoat where it was draped across a chair turned her thoughts to the ignominy and total unfairness of being the owner of such a garment. Oh, she would look for lace the first chance she had! To hope that Lord Nicholas hadn't taken note of that unadorned petticoat on his foray into her bedchamber was too much to expect. He likely thought it was most suitable for a rector's daughter to own. And if that wasn't a dreary notion she didn't know what was.

She wished her mother were here. She had never traveled alone, much less had an accident. And now—to be in such dire circumstances, alone with Lord Nicholas Stanhope—well! And yet, in a way she was having an adventure. Oh, how Tabitha's eyes would open wide when given an account of this journey! Nympha almost smiled at the very thought of it.

"Ye look like ye be feeling a mite better, Miss Herbert. If ye have no objection, I'll fetch ye a bowl of porridge topped with our own cream and a dab of butter and sugar. I'll warrant ye will feel yerself in no time." The innkeeper's wife rose from the chair, bustling to the door as though she couldn't wait to be out and about her business.

With mixed emotions, Nympha watched her leave the room. The door had barely shut when it opened again. Annie entered. With her arm bound up and an eye that appeared to be turning every color of the rainbow, she looked a sorry sight.

"I'm that sorry you had a knock on the head. Miss Nympha." The maid came to the side of the bed and smoothed down the coverlet with her good hand. Her blue eyes held an anxious look, and her hand trembled just a little.

"I am quite all right. You look to have suffered far more than I did, poor girl. I trust they attended to you properly?"

"Indeed, miss. I've been treated ever so nice."

"If these people would simply allow me to get up, I should manage very well. I hope that the coach has been repaired, and that we may leave as soon as possible. All of a sudden I long to be at my great-aunt's home." Nympha wiped a tear away with a resolute hand. She would not mope. She never moped. But she did feel a trifle lost and out of her depth in a strange area, with only the aggravating Lord Nicholas to assist her.

Annie patted Nympha's hand, nodding. "I agree, that I do. Oh, that gentleman what was staying in the village, the one your papa introduced to you, is here as well. Small world this be."

Nympha, much subdued, agreed. "How curious." She hadn't been much taken with the gentleman, but she did wonder where he was going.

Rain spattering on the window was the only sound to be heard for a brief time, during which Nympha reflected on the caprices of travel while Annie attempted to see to Nympha's belongings.

* * * *

Nicholas paused outside Miss Herbert's bedroom to consider what he ought to do next. The wheelwright had promised his best, but it could take a few days to make the repairs if he encountered complications. How to cope with a determined young miss who didn't particularly like him was a matter upon which he preferred not to dwell. What was odd was that she made her dislike so obvious. He was not accustomed to that attitude from unmarried women, or women in general for that matter. Even though he was not in direct line for the peerage, there were any number of ambitious mothers who felt that his proximity to the title was quite good enough. He could always count on some female throwing herself in his way. Nympha Herbert looked as though she'd gladly run a mile in the opposite direction just to be rid of him. And he couldn't allow that. He took a step toward the stairs.

"Lord Nicholas, how fortunate to encounter someone I know! Little did I think that when I left Lanstone Hall I would meet you again so soon."

Nick turned to see a familiar face, most unexpected on this road heading north. "Milburn, good to see you, although I am surprised to find you going north. Thought you would head for London. Difficult time of the year to be traveling, considering the state of the roads and all. Never know when rain will cause a problem." He gestured to the window at the top of the stairs where rain pelted the panes.

"How true. What brings you away from your home and links? Scotland, perhaps? A thought to study the lay of their land again?" Milburn gave him a knowing smirk.

"Perhaps I may. Who knows?" Nick had said nothing to his casual guest of his plans. It was none of his business. For that matter, nothing had been said about the mysterious death on the seventh green, either. Milburn had not attended the inquest. There had been no reason for him to do so. "First, I must escort a neighbor's daughter and her maid to their destination. I believe she is to spend time with a great-aunt somewhere to the north," Nick replied with a wave of one hand.

"Ah, the nursery brigade?"

"Not precisely. Reverend Herbert's second daughter is to visit her mother's aunt, as I understand it."

"Duty calls, and all that. I suppose this great-aunt is wealthy? Esteemed aunts often are, especially if widows." Milburn sauntered down the steps at Nick's side, his query sounding mildly curious.

The query seemed polite, even innocuous. Nick did not care for it, however, and replied with deliberate obscurity. "Well, you know how elderly relatives are, wanting a bit of attention now and again." With that, he continued down the stairs, Milburn following in his trail.

* * * *

The wheelwright was sorry, but the axle would take another day to replace. The carriage was of high quality and deserved a fine bit of wood. The coachman had insisted it have only the best, and the wheelwright was the only man in the area capable of making any manner of repair.

"These wretched roads," Milburn said as they left the wheelwright's workshop under the protection of the innkeeper's best umbrella. "I hear tell that some chap has devised a scheme to improve the roads so they won't disintegrate into a mire of muck and stone with every rainstorm."

"Hmm," Nick murmured. "Name of McAdam, I believe. Part of
this
road is macadamized, I think, but farther to the north. Quite an improvement for carriages." He glanced at his companion, wondering what was troubling him. Nick didn't know him all that well, but it seemed to him that Milburn, for all his well-tailored garb and polished looks, was uneasy about something. Nick had been an easygoing host. He offered Milburn accommodation at the family hall, but had not gone out of his way to entertain a casual acquaintance. He'd been preoccupied with house construction details, leaving his uninvited guest to entertain himself.

"Pity that Miss Herbert's coach should meet with a disaster. It is a fine vehicle, the highest quality, in fact— which tells a good deal about the great-aunt, wouldn't you say? Kind of you to oversee its repair." Milburn chuckled, then added, "I must say, I was surprised to find
you
tarrying at this inn. I cannot recall when I have had an instance where I happened on two people I knew while traveling."

"You know Miss Herbert?" Nick frowned, then wondered why it annoyed him that Milburn was acquainted with his nemesis, Miss Herbert. It was nothing to him if she was known to any number of gentlemen.

"Only from the village near your home. The rector was so kind as to introduce me to her one day. I met her mother as well—in church, you know. I can scarce say I
know
Miss Herbert. Enchanting creature, though. Those blond curls and blue eyes are all the thing in Town."

Nick nodded, deciding he was being very fanciful and suspicious without reason. The fellow merely sounded interested, polite, perhaps a trifle forward. "So, where are you bound, once the roads are decent again? I do not recall you mentioning your destination."

"I thought I'd spend some time with Byron. He ought to be at Newstead Abbey for a bit around now. He usually goes there when he is a trifle dipped. I have an uncle in that area. I ought to visit him as well." Milburn's step was buoyant, as though he relished the coming days.

Nick took a considering look at his companion. He was well enough—likely Miss Herbert would appreciate those dark curls, thinking them romantic. Dark eyes concealed more than blue. Nick thought, and Milburn's were very dark, almost black. And even though the chap had a scar on his chin, a chit like Nympha Herbert would probably think it something to sigh over. Bah!

Of course, Milburn wasn't as tall as Nick, so he had the advantage of noting that the fellow's hair was a trifle thin on the top. Nick ran a careless hand through his own thick nut-brown hair with satisfaction. His tousled look was simplicity itself to manage. Not for him the hour at the looking glass to arrange each hair on his head just so.

They retraced their steps to the Dog and Drake where Nick spoke to the innkeeper, requesting a nuncheon to be served before long. He left Milburn in the common room, then went up to check on his unwanted responsibility.

It never occurred to him to depart without seeing to her welfare, even if the rain abated and his own coach was undamaged. He—as well as his brother—had been raised to look after their own, and he considered Miss Herbert in that vague category, being the daughter of his rector.

He rapped on the door. Hearing a murmur that could have meant anything, he cracked open the door. "Miss Herbert? I thought to see how you fare."

The door opened to reveal Miss Herbert garbed once again in her blue traveling dress. He stared at the sight of the fetching ruff at her neck, so typical of her attire. She seemed to enjoy muted colors and soft fabrics, from what he could recall—which he had to confess wasn't much. Behind her he noted a blue velvet mantle draped across a chair, as though she intended to depart.

"Going somewhere? I believe I left orders for you to remain in bed."

"As you may see, I do very well. Only the slightest ache remains in my head. Other than the damage to poor Annie, we are fine—quite ready to depart if it is possible." She gazed up at him with naive innocence in her remarkably blue eyes.

She might have known him most of her life, but she still shouldn't trust a man not related to her. Come to think on it, there were a few relatives one shouldn't trust, either.

"I just came from the wheelwright. He says the repair will take until tomorrow at best." At her sudden frown and downcast eyes, he added, "I was just about to partake of a bit of nuncheon. Perhaps you will join us? We appear not to be the only travelers who have sought refuge here."

She nodded agreement, taking a step forward. "Mr. Milburn seems an agreeable gentleman. How odd we should all know one another—even if slightly."

Nick wondered how best to answer the question not asked. Was Milburn not only agreeable but also trustworthy? A gentleman in truth as well as name? He didn't know him all that well. In fact, when he had appeared at Lanstone Hall, Nick had been required to think a few moments to recall his identity.

"As to that, I couldn't say. He is but a casual acquaintance. I could not vouch for him one way or another." The touch of her dainty hand on his proffered arm gave him an odd sensation, like he should be a knight-errant, protecting a fragile yet brave woman who was under siege.

"How strange. I mean, that he would deign to come for a visit when you scarce know him." She gave him a quizzical look, then walked down the steps at his side. Again, Nick was touched at the sign of trust she evidently placed in him. She might not like him, but apparently she trusted him. It was a novel feeling for a gentleman who had been dashing about Town since he left Oxford, cutting a swath in Society before settling down on his land to create his golf links. It made him feel about seven feet tall.

"That sort of thing is far more common than you would believe. In fact," he confided, "I'll have you know there are chaps who barely have a roof to call their own. They simply travel about, sponging where they can."

"How sad," Miss Herbert whispered as they neared the bottom of the stairs. "No roof to call their own."