Yorkshire (9 page)

It had been put back on its wheels, but the rear end reeled back drunkenly on its chassis and tipped the front end high into the air. Clearly, the suspension had given way. Like the rest of the late earl’s possessions, it had been allowed to deteriorate by simple neglect. The once proud monogram on the doors had been all but obscured by the passage of time; the leather seats inside were cracked and split in places, the discoloured stuffing protruding. The floorboards were scuffed and there were none of the usual items to help with comfort on a journey one would expect to find in any family vehicle, much less one which belonged to an earl.

A gaping hole in the roof showed where Mr. Kerre and the coachman had broken through to the casualties on the previous day. I peered inside, up through the hole to the roof of the coach house, and then at the ruin within. Bloodstains, splashed about the interior, added to the general dilapidation, adding a gruesome touch.

I moved to the rear of the coach, where the body sagged back on the chassis.

The heavy leather straps that had supported the body of the coach hung by its side, useless now. I assumed they had given way under the strain of the passengers. Four grown men, one of them overburdened with avoirdupois, must have been too much for the worn leather. It was neglectful of the late Earl not to have them checked properly before they used the coach. Then I bent to pick up the end of the strap nearest to me. I fingered the severed end and felt the sharp edges.

Dear God. The strap hadn’t given way at all, it had been cut.

There was no mistake. I examined it closely, saw the clean break. It wasn’t frayed or split; just that nice, fresh severance of one side from the other, nearly all the way through. The end was as an accidental break should be; thinned and jagged.

I held that strap, turned it over in my hand while my mind raced ahead, as I tried to work out what I should do. Should I tell James? He would be obliged to investigate the matter, or keep quiet, and I knew my brother’s conscience wouldn’t allow that. After all, I might be mistaken. I looked at the strap again. No, there was no mistake, I was sure of it. I decided to go back to the house and fetch Lizzie. She wouldn’t rush off and tell someone straightaway, and a second opinion would be more than useful.

I heard a sound from behind me, a footstep in the yard outside, closer than the stable boy who still sang lustily in one of the horse boxes at the other end of the yard. Hastily dropping the strap, I stood, and brushed my skirts down with my hand in a nervous gesture. It must be the groom. He couldn’t find me in this situation, mustn’t guess my discovery.

Lord Strang walked into the coach house.

His held his injured arm in a sling fastened around his neck, and he was dressed simply in a country frock coat, slung around his shoulders against the cold. No makeup or expensive velvet today and a simple wig, fair hair close to what I now knew to be his natural colour, tied back. He looked comfortable, at ease, far more human than he had when he first stepped out of his coach the previous Monday and far more like his brother, but I would never have confused them.

He stopped when he saw me and slowly looked me over. I felt dowdy and provincial under his even gaze, and dropped my eyes. He came quickly towards me, and then stopped again, a few paces short of me. Regaining my courage I lifted my head and we stared at each other. “Good morning, ma’am.” He bowed.

“Good morning, my lord. Do you feel better today?”

“A good deal better, thank you. Sleep and rest seem to have restored me almost to my old self. But not quite,” he added in a quieter, more reflective tone.

I glanced at the sling, expertly tied, no doubt by his resourceful manservant. “You look much better, sir. I hope your arm does well now.”

An easy, genuine smile transformed his grave features into something else, making him look like any other man—almost. It went right through me. “I hope so too. Carier certainly seems pleased with its progress.”

I felt uncomfortable with just the two of us, and the unseen groom and I groped in my mind for something to say. “Your man is very capable with injuries.” I tried hard to keep up a normal conversation. “I didn’t think it was considered usual in a manservant. Not all military men are familiar with injuries, or how to deal with them.”

“Carier joined me on the Grand Tour, direct from the army.” He didn’t seem aware of my awkwardness. I thanked the Lord for good manners that prevented him indicating any awareness. “He served a general for several years and took an interest in helping the wounded. He dealt with much worse during his service, or so he would have me believe.”

I found it difficult to take my eyes off Lord Strang, but I knew I must do something to stop myself, or he might notice. I felt awkward and ungainly as I always did in difficult situations. My inner feelings intensified it, made it even worse. Partly to give myself an excuse to take my eyes away from him and partly on an impulse I turned away and picked up the cut strap. “Sir, I noticed the most dreadful thing, but I need someone’s opinion.”

His attention had gone to the strap in my hand, and he must have seen what I did. He took the step that brought him to my side. “Good God!” Taking the strap from me he turned it over so he could examine it from both sides.

We stood side by side and stared at the strap for a while in silence, for far too long. Then I found my voice at last; “It has been cut, hasn’t it, sir?”

I smelled him now. An unidentifiable scent of manhood mixed with citrus, too agreeable for comfort. I wanted to move away, but thought he might realise something was wrong if I did. I would be deeply mortified if that were to happen. It was bad enough to have this crazy infatuation—much worse if he knew it.

“There’s no doubt about it. Look, it’s been cut nearly through. I’m surprised the coach got as far as it did.”

He dropped the strap as though it had become suddenly hot, and went round to the other side of the coach to examine the strap on that side, but I didn’t follow him. I needed time to get my breath back. His presence so close hit me like a blow to the stomach, especially in the way he had taken me by surprise by walking in so unexpectedly. I put my head back and took some deep, clear breaths of the chilly morning air, pulled it down into my lungs in an effort to clear my head. Slowly, I regained my self control.

Lord Strang walked round the coach carefully, examining it closely at several points, then he came back to where I stood. “This is very serious indeed.”

“Shouldn’t we tell someone?”

Impulsively, I turned towards him, but he was standing too close for me to avoid the power of his presence. I drew a breath and smelled him, the perfume he used and the unfamiliar scent of masculinity. I could feel the heat of his body. Then I let my eyes meet his in a careless second. Everything rushed in on me, in his blue gaze. I was lost.

His eyes widened in disbelief and the breath caught in his throat. “You too? Oh dear God.” Without any more words, he drew me close with his good arm and kissed me.

Tiny tentative kisses at first, gentle, the kind one might give a friend at greeting, but they soon changed to passionate and demanding when, despite my good intentions, I responded and kissed him back.

This could not be happening. But I didn’t pull away. I wrapped my arms around him instead, and touched him properly for the first time. His hard body tensed under the fine linen shirt and his warmth seeped through to my very heart.

I’d never known anything remotely like this before, this aching desire that betrayed all my self-control. Living in an overcrowded manor house had taught me powers of discretion no one had been able to break through before, not even Steven, although he had tried. While every sensible bone in my body screamed for me to pull away, to get away, my treacherous arms wouldn’t push, and my legs seemed rooted to the spot. With those kisses, he unlocked something I had only been aware of dimly before.

Passion.

He bent his head to kiss my neck. Now I could call out, now I could say something, but I only sighed with longing. My throat arched, his kisses burned my skin. I wanted him to continue, but he pushed me away, gasping, “No!”

My astonishment reflected in his eyes as we stared at each other. All my good resolutions had gone, dissolved in the wake of passion. Only aware of him as he looked at me, I tried to think, stay calm, in control of myself, but had to fight for it like never before.

“Someone told me you were dangerous.” My voice shook despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

“Then you have me at a disadvantage, for no one told me how dangerous you are.” I stared at him uncomprehendingly, and a heavy silence fell between us.

I heard the groom outside singing; I heard the horses shifting in their boxes. I had better go. Finally regaining control of my body, I turned away, but he said abruptly, “Come and talk. I promise I’ll behave.” And I knew I too felt the need to talk about this, to see if it was real.

I followed him to the back of the coach house where to a couple of bales of hay, and we sat side by side, careful not to touch each other. I felt the shock of his arm around me, the desire in his kiss. I still trembled.

I dared not look at him again. Staring at my trembling hands, I tried to control them, gripping them tightly and watching the knuckles turn white. The dark red scab of the scrape split a little and oozed drops of bright blood.

“I’m sorry,” he said in his soft, low voice. “I must have upset you. I had no intention of leaping on you like a rutting stag, and I apologise for it. I will, naturally, make arrangements to leave if you should wish it, but I would very much like to tell you something first.”

I looked at him, startled by his warm tones. His eyes held something new. Did I imagine it? Of course, I did. He was just amusing himself, that had to be the case. Nevertheless, I still trembled at the sincerity and passion in his eyes, now held in check.

“I wanted you the moment I saw you step down from your carriage on Monday.” He looked away and stared straight ahead, at the tilted back of the coach. He paused and the silence lay heavy between us. “This is beyond my understanding. I’ve never believed in such things before, but something passed between us and I feel as if we spent too much time apart. I’ve read the poets, the talk of twin souls, or one soul parted by some accident of fate and I thought it all fanciful, until that moment.”

He turned his head to look at me. I felt dowdy, thoroughly countrified. I had nothing a connoisseur of women like Lord Strang could want. This couldn’t be true. How could someone like him want me, a provincial nobody? He was trying to seduce me, to amuse himself with an inexperienced country girl. Nevertheless, that look in his eyes told me something special might be there for us, if I dared to reach out and take it.

“You have a bad reputation.” Desperately, I tried to be cool. “How can I be sure of anything you say?”

He smiled, holding my gaze. My heart turned over. “You can’t. Nothing in life is ever sure. And that reputation, I should tell you, is well earned.” His smile turned wry. “How can I be certain you’re the kind of woman I should allow into my life? I know very little about you and I’m used to fortune and title-hunters. How do I know you aren’t one of those?” He startled me with his honesty, but he was right. My appearance wasn’t calculated to fill him with confidence. The cynical smile disappeared. “I just know it. I’m not accustomed to following my impulses, not these days, but this one is too strong to deny. If I did, I’d regret it bitterly.”

I’d begun to be sure this had all the hallmarks of a sordid seduction, a roll in the hay, but at that moment, in my foolish naiveté, part of me didn’t care. I’d have done anything for him—his attention, his touch, was enough. I must have been stark raving mad.

He took my hand gently, still watching my face. He smiled at my look of disbelief. “My brother will tell you I’m quick to make up my mind and slow to change it. I know this can be disconcerting, but I beg you to believe I’m sincere. I fell in love with you at first sight, but that’s my problem, not yours. If you can’t return any of my feelings, you must say so, and think no more of it. I’ve lived with worse disappointments.”

He waited, completely still, his hand linked with mine, but I said nothing. I didn’t trust myself to speak just yet. He said ‘love.’ I had no idea what that was, or how it should make me feel, but if this uncomfortable, prickly feeling was love, then I had it. He squeezed my hand. “I didn’t mean to speak to you just yet. I wanted this above all things to be right, with no scandal, no misunderstanding.” He paused, and looked away. I didn’t try to take my hand away. I felt the warmth, and knew it for a sort of comfort. “I wanted to arrange my affairs, and then come back, clear and open, to see if you would have me. Or at least consider it.”

“How can this happen?”

“Dear God, how should I know? I want to wait and be sensible, but there’s no time for that. If I want to take this chance, accept our
feelings
as real, then I have to take a few steps right away.”

We looked at each other in silence, then he sighed. “I should tell you I’ve become aware in recent weeks I can’t marry Julia Cartwright.” The sensible part of me listened sceptically. He would say that, just to raise my hopes. “We simply wouldn’t suit. This is nothing to do with you, but is the result of a growing conviction that I made a mistake. I’ve spoken to Julia before about breaking our betrothal. That is why she accompanied us here, I believe. She knows I’m about to bolt, but she won’t give me the chance. I spoke to her yesterday, when she finally came to see me on my sick bed.” A cold chill crept into his voice. “I told her I thought we wouldn’t do after all, and I begged her to reconsider. Our union would make both of us unhappy. After furthering my acquaintance with her, I’m more sure of it than ever. I can’t break it off. She must do it, or there’ll be scandal, and it will attach itself to you. I won’t have that. I’ve signed the contract. She, or her father, could take me to court if I break it.”