Lucasta Read online

  ‘Sir, I have said I am sorry—’ Lucasta struggled in vain to free herself.

  ‘Well, sorry ain’t good enough,’ bellowed the man, raising his riding crop. ‘What you need is a good whipping!’

  ‘Touch the lad and you will have me to answer to!’

  The viscount’s voice cut like steel across the yard. Everyone stopped what they were doing and fell silent. Lucasta had braced herself to feel the slash of the whip, but she peeped up now and saw that her assailant was slowly lowering his whip hand and glaring at the viscount with a look of profound dislike upon his heavy features.

  ‘And what has this to do with you, Kennington?’

  ‘The boy is travelling under my protection. If you have a quarrel with him, then you had best take it up with me.’

  Lucasta stared at the viscount. She had not realized he could look so menacing. His many-caped driving coat enhanced his already broad shoulders and he filled the wide doorway to the inn. His usually smiling eyes were dark and hard as granite, his mouth a thin line of determination. The grip on her arm slackened and she pulled herself free. Lord Kennington stepped out from the inn doorway and beckoned her to join him. A few strides took her to his side and she felt the immeasurable comfort of his arm placed protectively around her shoulders. ‘Well, Bradfield? I heard the boy apologize: will you accept that?’

  For a long moment the two men stared at each other, the man called Bradfield glaring angrily, but Lord Kennington’s expression had not changed, he still wore that hard, implacable look. She shivered. Eventually Bradfield looked away. He shrugged.

  ‘His apology is accepted, but keep the young cub on a leash, Kennington. If he crosses my path again I’ll not be so lenient.’

  Obedient to the pressure on her shoulder, Lucasta accompanied Lord Kennington to the curricle where Potts was waiting for them. Silently they climbed up.

  ‘I am sorry,’ whispered Lucasta, as the viscount gathered up the reins. ‘I did not see him. I did not mean to—’

  ‘I know it.’ He laughed as he turned his horses. ‘Who would have thought a simple drive to Hansford could be so entertaining!’

  Lucasta’s anxiety was lessened by his tone, but a glance at Bradfield’s glowering face as they drove out of the yard made her serious again.

  ‘My lord,’ she touched his sleeve. ‘My lord, he is glaring at you most viciously. I think he would do you harm, if he could.’ Her hand was taken in a warm, comforting clasp.

  ‘Think nothing of it, Luke. Sir Talbot Bradfield is a bully and a drunkard. He will not inconvenience you again.’

  As they made their way out onto the highway, Lord Kennington asked Lucasta if she objected to riding in the open carriage. She was quick to disclaim, saying cheerfully, ‘Oh I am not cold now. I love to feel the air on my face, and to be able to see so much of the country.’

  They drove south from Bromsgrove but soon turned off the main highway onto what was little more than a rutted track, made muddy by the recent rains. It ran through the most empty and wild land Lucasta had yet seen that day: there were no houses in sight, and only the occasional shepherd grazing his flock upon the common. As the afternoon wore on the cloud grew thicker and after a short, golden blaze the sun disappeared for good. Lucasta drew her cloak more tightly about her to keep out the chill wind, and a sudden scrape of metal made her glance back at the groom.

  ‘Just readying the firing piece, miss,’ growled Potts, cradling a long-barrelled shotgun in his arms. ‘This is a lonely stretch of common.’

  ‘Aye,’ agreed the viscount, whipping up his team. ‘We are nearing the southern edge now, but we won’t tarry here, I think.’

  Hardly had the words left his lips than a group of men emerged from the bushes and moved across the road ahead of them. Potts stood up.

  ‘Here we go, my lord. Keep ’em steady.’

  ‘Over their heads, Jacob,’ muttered Lord Kennington. ‘We only want to scatter them.’

  Lucasta watched in horror as one of the figures raised his arm and aimed a pistol at the oncoming carriage, but even as he did so there was a deafening report from the shotgun. The little group ducked and dived to each side of the road as the curricle hurtled towards them.

  ‘That showed ’em,’ chuckled Potts as they flew past the men. ‘Never knew a footpad to—’

  He broke off with a yell and Lucasta swung round to see that one of the men had taken a shot at the curricle as it swept by. Reaching inside her cloak she drew out a pistol, took aim and fired. The viscount swore violently.

  ‘Deuce and the devil! Where did you get that thing?’

  ‘I brought it with me,’ said Lucasta, returning the pistol to her pocket. ‘Did you think I would set out alone without anything to protect me?’

  ‘And she can use it, too, sir. Fair blew the villain’s hat off,’ gasped Potts, looking back.

  The viscount gave a shout of laughter.

  Miss Symonds you are a very resourceful young lady.’

  ‘Yes, well, you had best pull up as soon as may be, Adam,’ she replied, in a shaking voice. ‘Your groom has taken a bullet in his leg.’ She took the shotgun from Potts’ failing grasp and returned it to its holster, then she snatched off her neck-cloth. ‘Here, hold this over the wound: it will help to stem the bleeding until we can bind you up.’

  She handed Potts the neck-cloth, trying not to look at the bloody hand that he had clapped over his thigh. The viscount steadied his team and he now risked a glance over his shoulder.

  ‘How badly are you hurt, Jacob? Do you want me to stop or shall I go on to the inn at the edge of the common?’

  ‘Drive on to the Pigeons, my lord,’ gasped Potts. ‘I can hold on till then. I ain’t at death’s door yet. And you miss,’ he addressed Lucasta, who was still kneeling up on the seat looking back at him. ‘You should turn about and sit down properly on that seat. How’s his lordship to give his mind to his horses if you are like to fall out o’ the carriage at any minute?’

  The viscount grinned.

  ‘Definitely not at death’s door,’ he murmured, as Lucasta meekly turned to sit down.

  It took them several minutes to reach the Pigeons and Lucasta realized at a glance that this was not one of the usual coaching inns. The yard was surrounded by an assortment of run-down buildings and the lad who came running out of the stable stared in amazement at the magnificent equipage that pulled up before him.

  ‘Quick, boy, take their heads.’

  The viscount’s order seemed to surprise the boy, who moved uncertainly towards the snorting, head-tossing beasts. At that moment the landlord stepped out of the inn and took in the situation in one glance.

  ‘Look to the horses, Davy, quick now.’ He ran forward to help Lord Kennngton lift his groom from the curricle. ‘Well now, sir, what’s amiss?’

  ‘Footpads on the common,’ retorted the viscount. He was supporting the near-unconscious Potts but hesitated and looked back at his team.

  Lucasta stepped up.

  ‘You look to your man, my lord. I will see that your horses are stabled properly.’ She read the doubt in his eyes and put up her chin, her own eyes glinting. ‘I know what to do; you may trust me, sir.’

  With a curt nod and a look that told Lucasta he considered he had no choice in the matter, Lord Kennington gave his attention to his injured groom. Orders were barked out, the tap boy was sent running for the surgeon and Potts was carried indoors. Squaring her shoulders, Lucasta turned towards the diminutive stable lad.

  ‘Well, Davy,’ she said, in as gruff a voice as she could manage, ‘let us take care of his lordship’s cattle, shall we?’

  CHAPTER SIX

  Two hours later Lucasta went in search of the viscount. She was directed to one of the inn’s best bedrooms and went in to find Lord Kennington conducting a quiet but earnest discussion with a black-coated man in a grey full-bottomed wig. They were standing to one side of a large bed, where Potts was lying so unnaturally straight and still that for a brief moment
Lucasta feared he had not survived.

  ‘He is asleep,’ said the viscount, observing her shocked face. ‘The landlord has set aside a private parlour for us. Go and wait for me there, Luke, we have almost finished.’

  Thus dismissed, Lucasta went off to the little sitting-room hastily vacated by the landlord’s family when that shrewd businessman realized that this unexpected guest was prepared to pay handsomely for his comforts. Unable to settle, she whiled away her time ordering supper and stirring the coals until they yielded a cheerful blaze. When Lord Kennington came in some time later she had just finished dragging the little gate-leg table closer to the fire.

  ‘There is such a draught coming from the window I thought we would be more comfortable here,’ she explained, pulling a chair up to the table. ‘You see our host has already brought us wine, and I have ordered a meal for us. Are you ready to eat now, or do you wish to see the Justice of the Peace first?’

  ‘I am not going to report the attack. I do not wish to draw attention to our situation here.

  ‘Oh.’ She digested this. ‘Is that because of me?’

  ‘Well, yes, Luke, it is.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said again. ‘How is Mr Potts?’

  ‘Sleeping now.’ The viscount carried a second chair across the room. ‘It is only a flesh wound but it is deep, and Jacob has lost a great deal of blood. He is very weak, but the surgeon thinks he will recover well enough if he is allowed to rest for a few days.’

  ‘That is good news.’

  The viscount frowned.

  ‘Yes, but it is dashed inconvenient.’

  ‘My lord?’

  He gave her an impatient look.

  ‘What am I supposed to do with you?’

  ‘What – what do you mean?’

  ‘It is one thing to take you up and carry you to my godmother’s house all in one day, it is quite another for you to spend a night in this inn, alone and unattended.’

  She sank down onto the chair she had pulled up to the table.

  ‘I confess I have been so anxious about your groom I had not given a thought to my own situation. But it is not so bad,’ she added, trying to smile. ‘Everyone here thinks I am a boy and I have told them I am Luke Smith: I thought it best not to use my real name.’

  ‘But if the truth should be discovered we should be in the suds,’ he retorted.

  ‘Then we must ensure we are not found out.’

  Her reasonable tone was too much for Lord Kennington, who sat down at the table and dropped his head in his hands.

  ‘What a damnable coil!’

  Lucasta regarded him with dismay.

  ‘I am sorry you regard it in that way,’ she said stiffly.

  He raised his head.

  ‘How else should I regard it? Surely you must see that you cannot stay here with me.’

  Lucasta glanced at the clock.

  ‘It is past eight o’clock. Where would you suggest I go?’

  With a smothered oath he cast his eyes to the ceiling.

  ‘I wish to heaven I had not taken you up!’

  With a sigh he looked across at Lucasta. Her bottom lip began to tremble and she sank her teeth into it, blinking rapidly. It was obvious she was close to tears.

  ‘That is not very gallant of you, my lord,’ she said in a small voice. When he did not reply she continued quietly, ‘I saw to it that your curricle was cleaned and put in the barn, then I had the bags taken up to the bedroom. And I helped little Davy to rub down the horses and made sure they were bedded down safely for the night.’

  ‘The devil you did! Where did you learn the trade of a stable boy?’

  She raised her brows at him and said with a touch of hauteur, ‘Ned taught me. He says a good horseman should know how to look after his animals.’

  The viscount frowned at her but she did not look away, and there was such a look of determination in her face that his anger evaporated and he gave her a wry smile.

  ‘My apologies, Luke. I am not being very gallant to you, am I?’

  ‘No, sir, but you are anxious, and I know that worry can make any gentleman ill-tempered.’

  He chuckled.

  ‘As can hunger. Did you say you have ordered a meal for us? That was well done of you. What do you say to taking a glass of the wine I see over there on the sideboard and we shall leave any decisions on what is to be done until after we have supped?’

  Lucasta jumped up immediately and carried the bottle and wine glasses to the table, eager to see harmony restored. The viscount filled two glasses and lifted one in salute.

  ‘So while I have been closeted with Jacob and the surgeon you have seen to my carriage and horses, made this room comfortable and ordered a meal. My compliments Miss – Master Smith, you are most resourceful.’

  She twinkled at him over the rim of her glass.

  ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  A light scratching at the door heralded the entrance of landlady bearing a tray laden with dishes and they watched in silence as she set the meal before them.

  ‘This looks surprisingly good,’ remarked the viscount when they were alone again.

  ‘I think our host wishes to impress you. May I help you to a little of the veal pie, Adam, or will you take the spring lamb?’

  He smiled inwardly at her use of his name, but he let it go and the meal proceeded pleasantly enough, the only discord coming when the dishes had been cleared and the landlord brought in his finest brandy and two glasses. Lord Kennington immediately ordered small beer to be served to Lucasta.

  ‘But I should like to try a little brandy,’ she objected.

  He met her challenging look with a bland smile.

  ‘Your father would say you were far too young.’

  ‘Ned was drinking brandy when he was much younger than I,’ she hissed as the landlord went away to fetch a jug of beer.

  He raised one eyebrow at her.

  ‘And how old are you?’ She hesitated, and his lips twitched. ‘Well?’

  ‘I am nearly one-and-twenty.’

  ‘Then you are far too young for brandy. Besides, you must keep a clear head if you are to help me decide how we are going to maintain propriety tonight.’

  ‘Yes, I have been thinking about that.’ Lucasta rested her elbows on the table and cupped her chin on her hands. ‘The landlord told me he has only the two bedrooms, and Potts is in the largest, so I suppose you must share with him.’

  ‘The devil I will!’ exclaimed Adam, revolted.

  ‘Well, what do you suggest?’

  ‘I shall sleep in here.’

  It was Lucasta’s turn to be shocked.

  ‘No! You cannot do that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Well, there is no bed, for one thing.’

  ‘There is a settle in the corner. That and a few blankets are all I need.’

  Lucasta shook her head.

  ‘No,’ she said decidedly. ‘It would not be right.’ Under the viscount’s enquiring glance she dropped her eyes and shifted uncomfortably on her chair. ‘You – you are a gentleman. You should not be sleeping on the floor.’

  ‘One night will not kill me.’ He broke off as the landlord came back in with large jug and a horn cup which he placed on the table in front of Lucasta. Absently she filled the cup and took a cautious sip.

  ‘There is a truckle bed in the bedchamber,’ she murmured, when they were alone again. ‘I saw it when I took my bag upstairs – I could sleep in that and you could have the—’

  ‘No!’

  His vehemence shocked them both. He reached across the table and caught her hand. ‘Luke, I am sorry, I did not mean to sound so out of reason cross with you, but you must see that we are in the devil of a pickle and I would not for the world compromise you further. Tomorrow I shall drive you to my godmother: once you are under her protection you will be safe, but until then we must do what we can to safeguard you. Pray, my dear, help me with this.’

  She stared at him across the table, then gave a lit
tle smile.

  ‘I am sorry, Adam, I did not mean to be such a trial to you. Tell me what you want me to do.’

  He squeezed her hand.

  ‘Good girl. You shall retire soon and be sure to lock your door.’

  ‘And … you will sleep here?’ She looked doubtfully around the little parlour. ‘Will that not cause some comment? I believe that in these places it is not unusual for men to share two, three – even four in a bed.’

  A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

  ‘But we are Quality, Luke,’ he said softly, ‘and everyone knows that the ways of the Quality are incomprehensible.’

  When Lucasta made her way down to the little parlour the next morning she was surprised to find Lord Kennington shaved, dressed and enjoying a hearty breakfast of eggs and ham while the landlord hovered anxiously over him. He welcomed her with a smile, did not rise but waved his fork at her.

  ‘Good morning, Luke. Come and join me, my boy. There is ale here, or our host will find you some coffee, I am sure.’

  ‘Yes, I would like a cup of coffee, if I may,’ she murmured, taking her place at the table. When their host had left them alone she added quietly, ‘I expected to find you suffering from a lack of sleep.’

  ‘The settle was very hard, I admit, but I have slept in worse places. However, I was not tempted to linger in my makeshift bed and was up betimes to make myself presentable. Unlike you, young man.’ He bent a frowning look at Lucasta. ‘What is that around your neck?’

  She put up her hand to her cravat.

  ‘Is it so very bad? It is a spare neck cloth I packed in my bag. I fear it is a little crumpled, but I did my best.’

  ‘Well, your best falls a long way short of acceptable. Do you not have another?’

  ‘Of course not. I did not expect to need more than one.’

  ‘Good heavens – no self-respecting gentleman would travel without a dozen spare neck-cloths!’

  In spite of his harsh words she saw the gleam of mischief in his eyes and her own lips twitched.

  ‘Then I am clearly not a gentleman!’

  ‘If I had not sent all my own baggage on to Coombe Chase I would find you another, as it is, I suggest you wrap your muffler around your neck to cover up that – that sartorial disaster.’