Netherby Halls (5 page)

“Ho! A room is it? You’ll be getting none here. We
don’t run that sort of house.” The woman sneered.

A small, wiry man with a white apron hanging from his
waist approached the sharp-tongued woman but said nothing.

Sassy’s eyes flashed as she sucked in her temper. “I
don’t precisely understand your meaning, ma’am, though I take leave
to advise you I take exception to the tone you use with me. My name
is Sassy Winthrop, and I have had a long journey from Tanderlay. I
require a clean and comfortable room, hot water, and later some
dinner, in my room.”

“Gawks, listen to the mort!” exclaimed the shrew,
sniffing. “Out wit ye,” she ordered, waving her hand. “A mort with
airs—out!”

“How dare you!” Sassy was both outraged and
mortified, and one gloved finger began rubbing her ring. Should she
use magic to get what she needed? No, her mother and father had
told her to only use it when all else failed. She should, instead,
use her wits.

“Listen to the fancy piece, will ye …” continued
the shrew looking at her derisively before she turned to the man at
her side. “Talks like a lady born and raised.” She returned a
spiteful gaze to Sassy. “Doxy, I won’t say it
again—
out.”

The word
doxy
resounded in Sassy’s ears, and
the urge to use magic began trumpeting in her head. The moment was
saved, however, as the driver of Lady Margate’s carriage arrived on
the scene.

He gasped and then in shocked accents said,
“Harebrained ye be, ye old hag! Miss Winthrop is a guest of Lady
Margate’s. You know her ladyship well, as we have often stopped
here, as ye know me. This is the late Sutton Village vicar’s
daughter, ye dolts! So what ye need to do now is make Miss
comfortable, unless ye want Lady Margate to hear of this incident
and start telling her friends this is not the place they want to
patronize?” He nodded. “Aye, I see ye understand. Right then, I
think ye best put a hot brick between Miss Winthrop’s sheets and
attend to her needs without any more of yer argle-bargle.”

Sassy shot the driver a grateful look, and he tipped
his peaked wool cap. “I am that sorry, I am, Miss. Thought this was
a respectable place.”

“It is a respectable place,” squeaked the innkeeper’s
wife. “It isn’t m’fault … How was I to know—why, she doesn’t
even have a maid with her.”

“That be none of yer business. Yer business is to
serve wit’ a smile,” said the driver, who then added, “and an
apology.”

The innkeeper finally opened his mouth. “That sorry
we are, Miss Winthrop … didn’t realize.” He turned to his
wife. “Off with ye, Stella. Tell Sue to set a nice hot brick
between the sheets …”

Sassy’s cheeks had burned during the entire episode,
and she noted it as another lesson learned. Now what she needed,
besides the privacy of a room, a wash, and dinner, was a good
cry.

After this incident she was so distressed she thought
she might not be able to sleep, but she awoke early the next
morning having had a deep and thoroughly excellent sleep. An hour
later saw them on the road again, and Jessie, whom she now thought
of as one of her very best friends, called down to her that another
hour would see them at Netherby. As they drove through the rolling
green hills, Sassy tried very hard not to daydream about a man with
blue eyes and black silky hair. Then, all at once, she was flung to
one side of the coach’s interior. She tried to brace herself as she
attempted to right her position.

Sassy sighed heavily as she pushed open the carriage
door and peered out. The coach was woefully tilted and resting on
its right rear axle, and a wheel lay flat on the open road,
depicting clearly what had occurred.

Jessie, who was already there at the door, asked
anxiously, “You be all right then?”

She nodded and gave him her gloved hand, and he
helped her jump to earth, where she undid her bonnet and pushed her
long strands of hair out of her face. “What has happened,
Jessie?”

The driver was already inspecting the wheel and its
former housing before he mumbled what Sassy smiled to think were a
string of oaths. Even her father had moments similar to these when
he thought no one was about.

“Slovenly beggar,” Jessie said out loud finally.
“Wait till I get m’hands on you, Joseph O’Rourke!” He shook his
head and decided more needed saying. “Aye, it’s wring your fat neck
I will—dang if I didn’t tell you that the dratted bolts looked
loose to me! Lazy son of …” He stopped himself and mumbled an
apology in Sassy’s direction.

“Never mind, Jessie Jarvis. I didn’t hear a word.”
She fought back a sudden urge to giggle. What else was there to do
but laugh? However, they were in somewhat of a pickle, she thought,
and she inquired, “What now shall we do?”

“Now don’t ye fret, Miss Winthrop. I’ll go and fetch
the smithy. He is not too far from here at the edge of Wetly
Village. I’ll take one of the carriage horses and be back with help
in no time.”

“Oh,” Sassy said, suddenly worried. That would mean
she would be alone on the open road. Her experience with the rude
innkeeper’s wife had left her wary.

Jessie eyed her thoughtfully, climbed up to the back
of the driver’s seat, and returned with a huge pistol. He placed it
into her gloved hands.

“Know how to use this?”

Sassy held it thoughtfully a moment. It brought back
memories of her mother, who had been a ‘crack shot’. Her father had
not liked the notion of target shooting, but that was precisely
what her mother had spent hours teaching her the knack of. She had
enjoyed that and so never inquired why her mother was so bent on
teaching her how to shoot. “Yes, as a matter of fact,” she replied,
“I do know how to use one.”

“That’s it, Miss. I don’t like leaving you alone, but
I feel better if you keep that on hand.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it at the ready,” Sassy said
with an accompanying smile.

“Pluck to the backbone you are, Miss!” he said with
approval as he began unhitching the horse. Within a few moments he
was mounted and disappearing out of sight.

Sassy put the gun near the coach wheel and took to
walking, as the carriage steps had broken during the accident and
she wasn’t sure she should climb back inside the vehicle in its
present position.

The sound of an approaching carriage made her tense,
and she closed her eyes with the thought,
Oh no
, fervently
hoping she would not be bothered.

She made a hurried attempt to hoist herself into the
carriage but without the steps and with the carriage up in the air
at such an angle, it was a feat that would only cause her to engage
in antics that would make her appear ridiculous to the occupants of
the carriage presently drawing near.

With a sigh of resignation she turned, leaned against
the carriage wall, and awaited the inevitable.

~
Five ~

SASSY’S MAD DASH for her carriage and her subsequent
attempt to mount and enter the same had not been lost to the
observant Marquis of Dartmour. Nor had the fact that she was all
too familiar! Time had not dwindled her image, and he could not
help but stare at her.

Did he trust himself in this? Could this really be
one and the same woman who had occupied his dreams and thoughts
and … ?

Oh yes,
he thought as they got closer. She was
the woman of his dreams. What could it mean? What could he say?
Nothing—anyone would think him insane.

He concentrated instead on the fact that it appeared
she had reconciled herself to forgo her hasty attempt to climb into
her toppled conveyance and stood resigned to their arrival.
Amusement tickled him.

They were nearly thirty feet away, and he knew beyond
a shadow of a doubt that this was the young woman he had seen in
the little village of Sutton, where his dream had taken hold of
him—held him still. He told himself it was his over-active libido,
nothing more.

She was by far the most beautiful lovely he had ever
seen in his life, and his mind had obviously taken it to the next
level. It was no more than that, and he attempted to dismiss
it.

He sucked in air and said to Percy, sitting beside
him as he tooled his horses to a slow down and then to a stop,
“Well, well, Percy, it appears we shall be delayed a
bit …”

“Eh, I’d think you’d had enough fooling around last
night. Good God, Justin, a pretty on each arm, and Lord knows,
probably taking turns with you in bed, and here you are looking for
more?” Mr. Lutterel chuckled as he shook his head.

“Ah, but you wrong me, Percy. This is a damsel in
distress—or so it appears—and we are fortunate to be on hand to
lend her assistance.” What were the odds, he thought as he spoke,
that he would find
this woman
here … now, like
this?

“Eh, she does seem to be a bit in the straits.” Percy
frowned and added, “And alone, as well? Where is her lady’s
maid?”

The marquis didn’t bother trying to answer a question
he had no answer for but dropped the reins into his tiger’s hands
and jumped with dexterity to the ground. He looked up at his
friend. “Do you come?”

“Aye, if only to keep you in line.” Percy chuckled
and followed the marquis with more speed than finesse.

* * *

Sassy was frozen in place, unable to think, unable to
move. Here
he
was—the man of her all too real dreams, dreams
she believed were brought on by magic. This was the man she’d seen
in the village—he had shared the illusion with her. Oh no! Would he
remember? What should she do?
Act naturally.
Pretend she had
never seen him before—pretend to know of no such dream and
certainly not with him in it. That was what she had to do.

As he made short work of the distance between the
‘damsel in distress’ and his own vehicle, Sassy could not help but
take in every inch of his appearance.
Faith,
she thought
with a shiver of anticipation as he barreled down on her. He was
beyond handsome!

She took in the fact that his blue eyes glittered
with keen interest and some amusement. His mouth curved in a smile
that was infectious. His greatcoat was well cut, his breeches of
dove knit displayed athletic thighs, and his body—his body was, in
addition to being tall, muscular and athletic.

“May we be of some assistance?” he asked as he tipped
his hat and allowed his gaze to travel over her slowly.

She found it difficult to speak. Speak? She found it
difficult to think. Here he was—
him
. Somehow she said, “That
is very kind, but my driver has gone for help and should be back
shortly.”

“But, madam,” said the other man, to whom she now
reluctantly turned her attention, “are you here all alone?” His
tone was, she was relieved to hear, chivalrous rather than
chiding.

“Yes, I am afraid so.”

“Could we not drive you to your destination—leave a
note for your driver?” suggested blue eyes, tall and hot, with a
smile that swept over her body. She proudly put up her chin, for he
looked to be a London rogue attempting to flirt with her.

“Thank you … no, that won’t be necessary.”

The second man coughed as he shot a sideways look at
his friend. “If you will, ma’am, allow me to introduce ourselves to
you. This …” he said, waving his gloved hand toward the other,
“is the Marquis of Dartmour, and I am your humble servant, Percival
Lutterel.”

The marquis bowed, a bit of a smirk on his face and
such a look in his eyes that Sassy wondered if he thought she would
be influenced by his status. She shook her head as though this
informative bit of news was totally irrelevant but then wanted to
kick him in the shins when he leaned into his friend and said, “Did
you mean to impress the little bird? I think you missed the
mark.”

She ignored this and said stiffly, “That is very
nice, but I am afraid it does not alter the circumstances. There is
nothing really that either of you can do to help, and I am sure you
were on your way … somewhere, and I do not wish to detain you.
Thank you so much for your thoughtful concern, but I beg you not to
bother about me any longer.”

One expressive dark brow rose as the marquis
answered, “Ah, but, madam, you must allow us to be the judges of
what we can or cannot do. You are perhaps too young to comprehend
the dangers to a beautiful woman in your, er, predicament. You are
unaccompanied and should not be left on the open road without even
your driver to deter strangers from accosting you.”

“Quite true,” agreed Percy with a nod of his fair
head.

Sassy wanted him to leave. She needed him to leave
before she found herself throwing her arms around him. She was
moved by something inside to do just that. A voice in her head
whispered,
Kiss him, kiss him now
.

“You, my lord, and your friend here, have made me all
too aware of that sorry fact. However, as you may have observed,
there is little I can do about it.”

She could not help but note that the marquis’s lip
quivered. Dash it, she thought, he was laughing at her. Of all the
outrageous nerve. Her chin went up.

Percy was taken aback; it was apparent that he’d
never thought of himself as anything but a gentleman. He stuttered
an apology and reiterated that a gentleman could not abandon a lady
alone on the open road, and that he and the marquis had no other
intention in mind.

She smiled towards Percy, whom she found she rather
liked, but her attention was diverted by the marquis, who said,
“Ah, but there is something we can do about this sorry situation
that the young lady would not object to, is there not, Percy?”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean, Justin?”

“Why, what else? We shall stand guard over
Miss …” He looked at her to fill in the gap and repeated,
“Miss …?”