The Long Road to Love (5 page)

The sky had grown darkly ominous during the long afternoon of travel, but the earl had continued to drive south toward London. As Angel sat telling him of her life at Edenfield, he realized what an innocent she still was. If half of what she said was true, once Giles inherited the title he must have unleashed all his worst qualities. Somehow it seemed wrong to force her into an unwanted marriage.

He was tempted to speak to Giles on her behalf, until he realized where his sentimental thoughts were leading him. By George! Had he taken leave of his senses to be thinking about involving himself in this chit’s affairs? After all, such marriages were common in the
ton
. She was nothing to him after all, was she? Innocent females were clearly dangerous to be around, if one always felt this need to protect them.

Angelica interrupted his thoughts.

“When shall we stop for the night?”

Richard knew no respectable inn would allow the pair to put up since she had no maid or companion. They would have to drive straight through, which was probably best for the young lady’s reputation after all. He was rather too well known to risk stopping at one of the coaching inns, so he would choose some place small to dine and then they would again head south. Instead of telling Angel, he merely said, “Trumpington is the next village, shall we stop and have supper?”

Angelica’s nerves tingled. She would now be able to put her plan to work. “I should like that.”

Within a matter of minutes they tooled into the small village. To Angelica’s surprise and disappointment the earl chose the smaller of the two inns of Trumpington, a rather ancient half-timbered building with little sign of life save one aged ostler sitting by the open door.

As the earl drew his curricle to a halt in front of the establishment, the old man stared like a moonling. Then, when it was clear the vehicle intended to remain there, he struggled to his feet and came to eye the pair. “Are ye certain ye want to stop at the Gray Dove, gov’ner? Quality mostly puts up at the Royal Arms at the other end of the village.”

“Quite certain, indeed. See to the horses while the lady and I dine.”

Angelica soon found herself in a small taproom filled with local farmers drinking ale. She stood beside the earl, facing the owner and his plump wife who eyed her with suspicion. Noting the dubious look the woman gave her, Angelica realized for the first time the impropriety of traveling with Richard unaccompanied by a female.

The innkeeper, seeing an opportunity for making some quick blunt rather than the unseemly situation, stepped forward. “Sir, how may I serve?”

Thinking it best not to reveal their true names, Richard said, “The name’s Black, Mr. Black. As you can see, Mr. . .”

“Miller, sir.”

“Miller, my ward, Miss Smith, and I are in a great hurry and shall only require a meal this evening in a private parlor, if you have such.” The earl looked around as if he doubted they would be so lucky as to dine in privacy in the small inn.

The innkeeper glanced nervously at his wife before replying, “Well, sir, Mrs. Miller’s a grand cook, and we’ve a private room for your use, but it’ll take us some time to get a proper meal together, not being used to providin’ for the Quality and all.”

“Very good. We shall wait in the private parlor until our meal is ready.”

Angelica, seeing her chance, said, “Perhaps you might show me to a room where I may freshen up and rest until we dine.” She gave Richard an innocent smile when he arched one brow.

Mrs. Miller signaled to a small buxom maid who was collecting empty tankards. “Sally, take the young lady up to one of the rooms; then come to the kitchen at once. We’ve lots to do.”

“Mr. Black.” Angelica said the name with mockery. “I hope you don’t mind my leaving you for a while. I am so fatigued. I shall be down when dinner is served.”

Richard bowed. “Miss Smith, rest well.”

After the young miss had gone upstairs and the gentleman strolled back out the front door as if he meant to walk about the village, Mrs. Miller sniffed, “If that be a Mr. Black and a Miss Smith, then I’m Queen Charlotte and you’re Mad George, God rest his soul.”

“Hush, Bessie, and get to cookin’. It don’t matter if he’s Mr. Black or Blackjack the highwayman as long as he pays his shot, and from the looks of him I’d say his pockets are deep. Now, get to the kitchen.” The innkeeper took his wife’s shoulders and turned her in the right direction before giving her a nudge. Bessie was a bit too moral to his way of thinkin’ and he wouldn’t allow her to turn away some easy funds for the sake of what was proper.

Upstairs, Angelica plotted to get away from Richard. She went to the window and looked out. The dark clouds blotted out the setting sun. The inn was situated at the edge of the woods, which would make it easy for her to hide, but she suddenly knew a moment’s regret. The afternoon in the earl’s company had been pleasant despite the circumstances. He’d been utterly charming, telling her amusing tales of his life in Town, although she was certain they’d been greatly edited for her benefit, and he’d seen to her comfort each time they’d stopped to change horses.

He’d been like the Richard of old.

Remembering Giles’s plans for her, she pushed the pleasant thoughts of Richard from her mind. She had to get away.

Taking a few minutes to refresh herself after the long carriage ride, she then went to the door and listened. Only the low murmur of conversation from the taproom echoed in the hallway. Nervously, she drew the door open and looked out. There was no one about so she quickly tiptoed down the hall toward the backstairs.

As she made her way down the narrow flight, Angelica could hear Mrs. Miller issuing orders in the kitchen. When she reached the last step, she paused to peek around the corner. Sally was busy building up the fire in the oven.

Mrs. Miller was slicing meat, all the while complaining to the young maid about the extra work and for such a havey- cavey pair. Neither could see Angelica, so she stepped to the rear door which was near the stairs and exited quietly.

As the back door clicked shut behind her, Angelica felt a rush of exhilaration at having gotten out of the inn unseen. Once she made it to the safety of the woods, Richard would never find her. She didn’t dwell on what she would do next, only on getting away from the earl.

In the growing darkness of the impending storm she could see a path which cut through the inn’s small rear garden. The trail passed through a wooden arbor heavy with small white roses and disappeared in the woods beyond.

She dashed down the path through the arbor and straight into the arms of Lord Blackstone, who’d stepped from behind the arch as she rushed headlong for the woods.

His arms closed around her and he pulled her to his hard chest. As he stood holding her close, an amused smile on his handsome face, Angelica was suddenly flooded with the desire to put her arms around his neck. What madness was this?

“Going somewhere, Angel?” His voice sounded husky.

“I-I just thought I might get some air.” Something intense flared within her as she felt the warmth of him through her clothes.

“I see, and you thought you might best get some air at a full run.”

Feeling she must remove herself from the all too enticing feel of his arms, Angelica angrily pulled away. “Very well, let there be no more lies. I was trying to get away from you ... so I might continue my journey to York.” The last was said with a sniffle.

Richard held himself in check as he watched her reach up and pluck a flower from the vines growing on the arbor, inhaling its fragrance even as a tear rolled down her porcelain cheek. He was overwhelmed with the desire to again take her in his arms and kiss away dear Angel’s tears, but honor forbade it. He wasn’t certain he could stop after a few kisses, for she was the most enticing woman he’d found himself in company with.

For once he wished his mother were present to advise him what he should do. Angel should be returned to Edenfield where she properly belonged, but this marriage was so very repugnant to her, how could he be a party to betraying his old friend?

“Angel, I don’t--”

Just at that moment Miller came hurrying down the path. “Mr. Black, the first course is prepared and awaitin’ you and Miss Smith in the private parlor.”

“We shall be there directly.” Richard never took his gaze from Angel as she stood with her back to the innkeeper. After Miller bowed and then disappeared back into the inn, Richard took Angel’s hand, drawing her to face him.

“My dear, I think we are both tired and quite famished. Shall we go in and have the supper Mrs. Miller has worked so hard to prepare. You will feel more the thing after you have eaten.”

Richard hoped that was true, for he felt bound by his promise to return Angel to Miss Parks. Perhaps if he found why she was so reluctant to marry, he might better understand and be able to ease her fears. But somehow the idea of Angel being wed left him feeling melancholy.

With a growing sense of uneasiness, he led her back to the inn.

The innkeeper had made no idle boast of his wife’s culinary skills. Dinner in the lone private parlor of the Gray Dove was excellently prepared, if somewhat basic, consisting merely of turtle soup, sliced ham, braised potatoes with dill and peas in cream sauce.

At first there had been an embarrassed silence; then Richard again dominated the conversation with amusing talk of Society, all the while keeping a close watch on Angel. By the time they’d finished their soup, she’d been able to compose herself sufficiently to compliment Mrs. Miller’s fare to Sally.

At last left alone with their dessert of apple tarts and thick slices of cheddar, Richard said, “I think we need to speak about your reluctance to return to Edenfield.”

Angelica’s violet-blue gaze came to rest on Richard. Several raven black curls hung loose from her chignon, dangling seductively about her beautiful face.

“I shan’t allow Giles to decide who I marry when I am so close to my majority. If I marry it will only be for love.”

Richard made a dismissive gesture with his hand before picking up his tankard of home brew. “ ‘Tis rarely the way for people of our class, my dear.” He drank deeply, eyeing her over the pewter cup. Setting the empty vessel back on the table, he leaned back and inquired, “If I might be so bold, may I inquire who Giles has chosen to be your husband?”

Angelica abandoned her half-finished tart. Pushing back her chair, she walked to the mullioned window. Lifting the latch, she pushed it open, needing the fresh air before responding, “Baron Paden.”

While Richard had never met the man, Paden’s ability to invest wisely was well known throughout the ton, where the gentleman had been dubbed Lord Midas. In the eyes of Society, Angel’s marriage would have been considered an advantageous one.

Before Richard could comment, Angelica added, “You, no doubt, are acquainted with him from your work in the House of Lords.”

For the first time in his life, Richard was embarrassed by his lack of adherence to his duties. Angel naively assumed he’d properly attended to the business of government inherent with a title, while in fact he’ d been otherwise amusing himself as he always had since coming to Town.

Irritated to have a mirror held up to his faults, he turned his anger on the one who held the looking glass. Rising, he walked over to stand opposite her. “So, you shun this alliance with one of England’s wealthiest lords in favor of what? A life on your own, doing good works and dwindling into spinsterhood, living with that hatchet-faced Miss Parks.”

Angelica was certain he was angry with her, but she hadn’t a clue why. Tilting her chin upward, she said, “I shall receive a small income from my late father’s estate when I am one and twenty in October. I see nothing wrong with settling in a small cottage in the country and doing as I please, my lord.”

Richard took a step closer. “Do you think Miss Parks or some other poor female could protect you from the advances of any passing rogue?” So saying, he slid an arm around her waist and drew her to him. Her heart pounding, Angelica ordered in a hoarse whisper, “Unhand me, sir.”

Amber eyes gazed into hers. In a ragged voice, Richard said, “You need a man to protect you, Angel. You are too beautiful for your own good.” He then lowered his mouth to hers.

His lips were punishing and angry, yet she found herself responding. A shiver of desire raced through her and she wanted him never to stop, but suddenly he released her, stepping back to stare curiously at her as if they’d never met.

“You see what can happen to innocent young ladies without a proper protector,” Richard growled breathlessly. He turned away from her and ran his hands through his auburn hair, leaving it tousled like a small boy’s. “We shall travel through the night. I must have the hood raised on the curricle for it is likely to rain. Be ready in ten minutes.”

He stalked from the room without a backward glance.

Angelica stood by the window, her fingers tracing her still throbbing lips. She was certain Richard had kissed her to convince her to marry Lord Paden, but the embrace had had the opposite effect. The very idea of such sweet intimacy with the baron sent a shudder down her spine.

Her thoughts on her old friend were in such turmoil she couldn’t clearly define them. All she knew was that as long as Richard intended to force her to go back to Edenfield, she would try to escape him, no matter her feelings.

With that thought settled in her mind, she went to prepare herself for their journey.

They traveled through the dark August night with only the carriage lanterns for illumination. With each successive town, fewer windows radiated light as the hour drew near midnight. A soft rain had begun to fall within an hour of their taking to the road, and with each mile they traveled south the storm had increased. Their pace dwindled to a plodding walk on the now muddy road.

A strained silence existed between the pair. On Richard’s part, the lack of conversation was due to his anger at his own conduct at the inn. He’d had no business kissing Angel, even less enjoying it as much as he had. Undoubtedly, she thought him an unremitting cad. But then, hadn’t he behaved as such by taking advantage of a young lady under his care? He’d violated one of his primary rules about never dallying with an innocent. Pushing thoughts of the alluring lady beside him from his mind, he squinted to see through the curtain of rain.

Angelica’s thoughts were on that kiss as well, but along a completely different vein. Despite the angry manner of the embrace, it had left her wanting Richard to kiss her again. Had she merely fallen under the spell of a practiced rake, or did she harbor tender feelings for him?

Sneaking a peek at the earl’s face in the golden glow of the lantern, his skin misted with rain, she felt her heart turn in her chest. With the slightest encouragement, she knew she could fall in love with Richard. She forced her gaze back to the road, barely visible through the downpour. She mustn’t make that mistake. He saw women as most men saw a good horse-when one took his fancy, he had to possess it, but once he did, he was always looking for another to excite his interest. She wouldn’t allow herself to become just another forgotten creature in his stable of women.

“Are you getting wet, Angel?”

Richard interrupted her thoughts. She was surprised how matter-of-fact his voice sounded. “A bit.”

“Under your seat is a traveling rug. Pull it out and cover yourself.”

Angelica quickly found the rug and spread it over their feet and legs. Even with the curricle hood up, the rain had left her gown damp and the warmth of the woolen cover was welcome. She sat back wondering how late the hour as they passed an old cottage beside the road, a lantern hanging lit by the door. Was Richard so desperate to be rid of her that he would make them journey all night long?

As they moved slowly southward, the rain lessened to a slow drizzle, but from the carriage lanterns, Angelica could see their vehicle traveled through deep water. Her alarm growing, she was about to voice her concerns when a wheel sank down to the axle and the curricle suddenly dipped to the right. Thrown against Richard, she would have fallen into the water had he not grabbed her even as he struggled with the reins.

“Are you all right, my dear?” The earl’s voice was full of concern.

Attempting to right herself, Angelica discovered that the angle of the curricle prevented her from moving away from him. The feel of his muscular limbs against her made her stutter, “I-I am unharmed, but whatever shall we do?”

“Can you hold the ribbons while I get out and see if I can lead the team to pull us out of this hole?” His face seemed barely inches from hers.

“Yes,” Angelica replied as she reached for the reins, never taking her gaze from his.

He sat looking back at her in a bemused manner as both their hands held the leather leads; then he seemed to remember himself. He carefully eased out of the carriage, and she slid into his vacated seat, finally stopping when she came to the tilted curricle’s side.

Water swirled up near the tops of Richard’s Hessians, but he paid little heed, his thoughts were so full of Angel. He was amazed at how her nearness affected him. Not merely with desire, but with an urge to take care of her and protect her. Pushing such disturbing thoughts from him, he trudged to the horses’ heads and was about to encourage them onward, when the sounds of rushing water echoed from ahead. He returned and removed a lantern from the carriage, telling Angel to hold the team steady while he inspected the road.

Walking through the darkness, he held the lantern high as the water only got deeper. He stopped and peered into the night. He could barely make out a bridge. Water rushed past the stone structure in a torrent. They’d come to a river which had overflown its banks and they’d get no further south tonight.

As the water reached his fingertips, he knew it would be dangerous to continue in the direction of the bridge. The rapidly flowing water tugged at his body, trying to draw him downstream. He couldn’t risk being swept away and leaving Angelica here alone.

Returning to the carriage where she waited patiently, he told her the news. “The way is flooded, we shall have to go back to find a place to stay for the night.”

But when he attempted to move the vehicle, the carriage proved obstinate and remained stuck in the mud. No matter what the earl tried, the team was unable to pull the curricle free. Blaming himself for having continued even in the storm, Richard went back to Angelica. “I’m afraid we are stranded.”

Just then the rain returned to a hard downpour, causing Richard to scramble back into the carriage, sliding down the leather seat until the length of his body was against Angelica’s. He put his arm on the seat behind her to brace himself, to keep from crushing her. “Forgive me,” he muttered with a slight grin.

Angelica knew the slant of the carriage was forcing their close proximity, but that didn’t stop the image of being held by him throughout the night. She suspected a night in Richard’s arms would be dangerous. “I-I believe we passed a cottage a mile or so back. Shall we unhook the team and see if they will allow us to shelter there?”

“An excellent notion. Stay here while I unhitch the horses.” He waded to the rear of the curricle and retrieved an umbrella from the small boot, then gave it to Angelica.

“When I have the horses turned around, you can ride to this cottage without getting your feet muddy.”

Within a matter of minutes the earl had his team free of the traces. He took the carriage rug and placed it on Zephyr’s back. Then he lifted Angelica from the curricle.

His very strength took her breath away. Angelica was certain her cheeks were red from the electrifying feel of his arms about her waist and limbs. He lightly tossed her up, and she quickly settled upon the horse’s back. She opened the umbrella, thankful for the darkness which hid her blushes. He returned to the carriage one last time and retrieved their portmanteaus.

It seemed an eternity until they reached the cottage where the lantern still glowed its welcome. Richard sat the portmanteaus on the steps before coming to help her down. He remained with his team while Angelica went to knock at the door.

Despite the lateness of the hour, within minutes the latch lifted and a small sleepy-eyed boy of seven or eight with curly brown hair peeked out. “What ye want?”

Too tired to worry about protecting their identity Angelica said, “I am Miss Markham, and that is Lord Blackstone.” She gestured to the earl who stood holding his team. “Our carriage has sunk in the mud, and we are stranded. Might we come in?”

The young boy chewed his lower lip for a moment, then called to the earl. “Are ye a real lord?”

“A very wet lord who would like to find a dry place for my horses as well.” Richard touched the brim of his hat, which poured a river of water.

Eyeing the animals with interest, the lad seemed convinced there was no danger. He threw open the door for Angelica. “Sit by the fire, ma’am, whilst I help ‘is lordship stable ‘is prads.”

The boy pulled a hat from a peg by the door, then dashed out into the rain, gesturing for his lordship to follow as he disappeared into the darkness. After the pair left, Angelica picked up the portmanteaus and stepped into the cottage. She called to see if anyone else was at home, but it appeared the young boy was alone, a somewhat shocking circumstance considering his tender age.

Taking the bags, she walked to the center of the large room, then set them on the dirt floor. She was delighted to see a fire on this rainy August night. Thoroughly damp, she welcomed the warmth. Looking around she discovered a small alcove which held a bed with a rough straw mattress, a curtain acted as a door to the tiny room. She opened her bag and retrieved a dry gown and hurried behind the curtain. By the time Richard and the young boy returned, she was seated in front of the fire in an old lilac sprig muslin gown combing her black hair, her wet dress hanging on a chair beside her to dry.

Richard paused on the threshold as he removed his greatcoat, moved by the picture of Angel, her hair loose, smiling at his young companion who’d gone to stand beside her to chatter about his lordship’s horses. That was the way she used to smile at Richard long ago, and suddenly he wanted her to look at him in that manner again.

Certain the rain must have reached his brain to be thinking such maudlin thoughts, he tossed his greatcoat across the back of a chair, then turned from the scene to struggle out of his drenched jacket.