Never Kiss a Laird (22 page)

“Five hours,
my lord.
 
Do you know where she is
headed?”

“I do.
 
Thank you, Millie.”
 
Hugh sprang into his curricle and twitched
the reigns.
 
The perfectly matched team
surged forward, and within a very few minutes, Millie found herself watching
only a swirl of dust in the road.
 
She
released the ends of her shawl, wrapping it tightly about herself, and the
worried look was very much lighter as she reentered the little stone cottage.

Sally leaned
back against the upholstered seat of the hired carriage and felt some of her
tension easing.
 
They would cross the
Scottish border soon, and be at the halfway point of their journey well before
they had to stop for the night.
 
They
would be in Lambeth the next day.
 
Miles
had secured four job-horses that seemed well up to the journey, and they would
trade teams when they stopped overnight.
 
Sally had purposely dressed in her finest travelling
outfit, and with her groom, and Bridget acting as her maid, she would have no
difficulty securing a room in a respectable posting house. Sally put an arm
around Bridget, and the young maid leaned into her, resting a head on her
shoulder.
 
At least this was one good
thing to come out of her flight from Denham
Park, she thought.
 
Without her intervention, she could only
shudder at the fate that might have befallen Bridget.
 

Her anger
surged again at those who had treated the maid so badly.
 
Did anyone give a thought to what would
befall the young girl; pregnant, alone, and separated from the father of her
baby?
 
 
She thought of Hugh, and knew that he was not
the actual cause of Bridget’s misfortune.
 
However it was easier to be angry with him, than to feel any other way
about him.
 
He was going to marry
Clarissa Riding, and so she must have no further contact with Hugh McLeod.
 
Sally knew that she had transgressed against
society by dallying with the Earl when he was single, but she would be breaking
her own code of conduct to continue to do so once he was engaged to another
woman.
 

After an
interminable time, as the sun began to sink, Sally felt the carriage bumping
over a cobbled drive and hoped they had reached the outskirts of Leeds, where they planned to spend the night.
 
Bridget, who had slept peacefully since about
twenty minutes of their boarding the carriage, sat up and rubbed her eyes.

“Are we
there,
miss
?”
 

“I believe
so, Bridget,” Sally said hopefully, stretching her cramped limbs.

Miles steered
the team through the narrow streets, to a posting house with which he was
familiar.
 
He climbed down from the box,
and after a few minutes, he opened the door.

“I’ve
secured rooms, Miss Sally,” he informed her.
 
“And we can change horses here, and swap back on our way home in a few
days.”

Sally felt
an odd constriction in her throat.
 
Home.
 
She was
starting to think she didn’t even know what that word meant any more.
 
Was home still Denham Park,
or the little stone cottage on the Earl’s estate?
 
But she shook away those thoughts, took the
hand that Miles was holding out to her, and descended from the hired carriage.

Entering the
inn, she allowed herself to be shown to a large chamber on the first
floor.
 
Miles had bespoken a private
parlour
on her behalf, and when the publican informed her
that dinner would be served in that room in half an hour, Sally realized that
she was ravenous.
 
Millie had given them
a packet of sandwiches for the trip, but Sally had completely forgotten to eat
them.
 
She hoped that Miles, at least,
had remembered his little packet.

Once she was
shown to her room, Sallie changed into a cambric gown, and disposing a shawl
around her shoulders, went to tap on the door of the adjoining room.
 
Bridget opened the door to her, and stepped out,
her face wreathed in smiles, and Sally felt an answering one on her own face.

“Oh, miss,”
Bridget enthused.
 
“What a lovely room,
and a fire and all.
 
And tomorrow I will
see Robbie!
 
I cannot ever thank you
enough, miss.”

Sally took
the girl’s hand and pulled her along the hallway.
 
“And best of all, supper,” she agreed.

“I am that
hungry,
miss.”
 
Bridget
nodded.

But when
they reached the private
parlour
, not all of Sally’s
arguments could make Bridget come in and eat her meal with Sally.

“I couldn’t,
miss,” Bridget said, in distress.
 
“It’s
not right. I’ll eat my supper in the kitchen, with the other staff.”

“But we eat
together at the cottage every night!”
 
Sally exclaimed, confused by the usually easy-going maid’s intractable
stance.

“That’s different,”
Bridget insisted.
 
“Everyone here thinks
I’m your maid, miss.”

Sally shook
her head, but Bridget was adamant. Sally let her go off to the kitchen, where
she would meet up with Miles, and she went into the private
parlour
alone.
 
It was a cozy room, with a fire in
the grate and a comfortable sofa set in front of it. To one side of the room a
small table stood, with two chairs pulled up to it.
 
The door opened, and the publican entered,
bearing a tray.
 
The aroma coming from
the covered dishes drew a deep sigh from Sally, and she seated herself at the
table and allowed the man to serve her.
 

“My missus
is held to have a very light hand in the kitchen, ma’am,” this worthy man
informed her.
 
“I’ve got as nice a game
pie as you could wish
for,
and some roast fowls, along
with a cutlet of veal in sauce.
 
When
you’re done with that, you can try some of these macaroons that would float off
the plate as soon as sit there.”

Accepting a
glass of burgundy, Sally informed the man that she would call if she needed
anything further, and prepared to enjoy the feast before her.
 
The publican was right, and the pastry was as
delicate as anything the cook at Denham
Park had ever sent to the
table.
 
Sally sipped her wine, and was
just trying to decide between a second piece of the game pie or another
macaroon, when the door opened.

Bridget
poked her head in, and when she saw her mistress seated at the table, came in
and closed the door behind her.
 
“Have
you finished, miss?
 
Miles sent me to
make sure we were in bed early, as we’ll need to make an early start.
 
I
can’t hardly
believe that I’m going to see my Robbie tomorrow, miss.
 
I don’t think I’ll get a wink of sleep.”

Sally smiled
at the girl’s happiness.
 
Bridget seemed
entirely sure that her Robbie would be as happy to see her as she would be to
see him.
 
Sallie squashed her own
reservations.
 
It had been over a month
since Robbie had last been at Castle Kane, and she hoped with all her heart
that he was as constant as Bridget thought.
 

“I have
finished, Bridget.
 
Did you have a good
dinner?”

“Ever so
good, miss, and I helped the missus with the washing up, since her girl had to
leave a bit early, and the house being full.”

“That was
nice of you.”

“Well, she
was complaining about her feet, and she made me think of Mrs. White,” Bridget
giggled.
 

“Upstairs
with you, then,” Sally stood and wrapped her shawl around her shoulders.
 
She left Bridget in the hallway, and went
into her small chamber.
 
Bridget’s
comment about Mrs. White made her think about her time at Castle Kane.
 
As she changed into her nightgown, tied her
nightcap onto her head, and scrambled into the big, soft bed, Sally struggled
to hold on to her usual sense of optimism.
 

The great
adventure she had begun when she kicked over the traces and fled from her home
had changed over the last few weeks.
 
The
infinite, exciting possibilities that the world would offer to her once she
turned twenty-one and assumed her fortune all seemed somehow sad and lonely
now.
 
Certainly, she could move to France,
and set up her own establishment.
 
She
would most likely be accepted by society there, as a woman with a mystery in
her past and the advantage of a large fortune.
 
But it all seemed incredibly empty.
 
She could not help contrasting that bleak future with the one she might
have had if she had not lost her reputation.
 
She dared not let herself dwell on the thought of marriage with Hugh
McLeod, of sharing his life and his bed for the rest of her days.
 
That could never be her fate now, and she
refused to repine.
 
Clarissa Riding would
be his bride. For Sally it would be France, and she was determined that
no one would ever know how much it would cost her to maintain her brave
façade.
 
Sally squeezed her eyes shut and
willed herself to fall asleep.

The Earl of
Kane pulled his sweating team up at a posting house about a mile away in the
town of Leeds.
 
He had been disappointed not to overtake
Sally and her entourage on the road to London,
but unbeknownst to him he had steadily gained on them, and had arrived in Leeds only an hour behind them.
 
The owner of the posting house rushed from
the building to greet the Earl, assuring him that the horses he stabled there
were well-rested, and would be able to carry him quickly to London on the morrow.
 
Hugh allowed himself to be led into the inn,
handing his team over to the groom.
 
This
establishment knew him well, and Hugh had reason to feel comfortable handing
his cattle into the care of the stablemen.

Hugh ate the
meal prepared for him, without paying it much attention.
 
He drank the better part of a bottle of
claret, and sat before the fire staring into the dancing flames until the
publican came to see why his noble guest had not gone up to his room.
  
Hugh arranged to have the fresh team harness
to his curricle at an early hour, and retired to his room to continue to dream
of the red-haired spitfire who was leading him on this merry dance.

Chapter
Eighteen

Miles
negotiated the crowded London
roads skillfully, managing to avoid the many street carts, gigs, barouches and
curricles, all competing for room on the narrow lanes.
 
He had to stop for directions more than once,
but as the afternoon wore on, he found his way to Lambeth and the
Clapham
road.
 
The
little trio had been up before the sun, and had made good time with a fresh
team of horses, and
were
rewarded by being in Lambeth
well before sunset.

Inside the
hired conveyance, Bridget had fallen silent, and sat with her nose pressed
against the small window, looking for the sign that would indicate that they
had found Fraser’s Carriers.
  
Sally was
torn between happiness for the girl, and her unspoken fears that Robbie would
be less than pleased to see her.
  
At
last Miles pulled into a gated yard, and brought the carriage to a stop.
 
Sally and Bridget climbed out, and stood in a
spacious cobbled yard, with a little house and a much larger stable in it.
 
The buildings appeared well-maintained, and a
small border of flowers lining the house was very cheering.

Looking
around, Sally noted a sign over the stable that proclaimed ‘Fraser’s’, and
concluded that Miles had gotten them to the right place.
 

“Thank you,
Miles!”
 
Sally addressed her groom.
 
‘Very well done!”

“Thank you,
miss,” Miles replied.
 
“I’ll go secure us
rooms at The George, miss.
 
It’s getting
late, and we won’t have enough light to leave London this night.
 
We won’t want to be wandering around in the
dark looking for a place to stay.”

Sally
scanned the sky, and nodded.
 
She pulled
a heavy leather pouch from her reticule, and counted out a few coins into
Miles’s hand.

“Here,
Miles.
 
This should cover stabling the
team at a livery, and enough left over for you to get yourself something to eat.”
 
She put the pouch away, the heavy weight in
her hand reassuring.
 
She had spent very
little of her hoarded funds so far, and that was due in part to Bridget’s
knowledge of keeping house.
 
Sally pulled
the strings of her reticule closed, and slipped the loops over her wrist, as
Miles climbed back onto the box, and drove out of the yard.

Sally looked
at Bridget with an encouraging smile, and saw that the girl was almost visibly
quivering with anticipation.
 
Taking
Bridget’s small, cold hand in hers, the two approached the stable.

The wide
double doors were open, and the comforting smell of hay and horses wafted up to
them as they cautiously entered into the dark interior.
 
There was a huge dray cart in the middle of
the stables, and loose boxes along the side in which two horses were munching
their evening meal of oats and hay.
 
Ropes
and highly-polished pieces of tackle adorned the walls, neatly hung from nails
and hooks at an easily accessible level.
 
It all gave the impression of a very well-run establishment, and Sally
felt her spirits rising.
 
She had not
revealed to Bridget that if she found the place to be slatternly or at all
disreputable, it was her firm intention to return the maid to
Whitethorne
cottage forthwith. Sally could hear voices
coming from somewhere near the back of the structure.
 

“Hello?”
 
she
called out.

“Be right
with you,” a male voice called back.
 

Sally gave
Bridget an encouraging smile, and a moment later, a large youth came into
view.
 

Robbie
Fraser was indeed a tall young man, with broad shoulders and a sturdy
frame.
 
But only his mother, or, it
seemed, Bridget, would have called him a handsome lad.
 
A thatch of straw-colored hair sat atop a
round face, with a snub nose, freckles and small blue eyes.
 
His eyebrows and lashes were so fair as to
appear invisible.
 
His mouth was hanging
open in astonishment, which Sally thought charitably, was probably the reason
that he did not appear to be exactly needle-witted.

“Bridget!”
 
he
exclaimed, as if
dumbfounded.

“Robbie,”
she replied in thrilling tones, and launched herself at him.
 
Robbie caught her up in his well-muscled
arms, and the two twirled slowly in a circle, the rest of the world forgotten.

“Oh Robbie,
I was afraid I would never see you again,” Bridget sobbed into her beau’s
shoulder.

“Nay, then,
Bridget,” Robbie objected.
 
“You knew I’d
be coming back for you.”

“I have so
much to tell you,” Bridget quavered.

“Slowly,
lass,” Robbie said stolidly.
 
“We have
our whole lives to talk.”

Sally felt
her eyes misting up.
 
A smile quirked the
corner of her lips, and she backed out of the building, to give the young
lovers their privacy.
 
She looked back
briefly, and Robbie had set Bridget down, and was holding her shining face between
his hands, a foolish grin on his face.
 
 
Sally was still smiling as she walked out into
the yard.

The Earl had
arrived at the carrier’s yard well before Miles had, being much more familiar
with the city than the groom.
  
He had
observed the sturdy lad working industriously in the yard, cleaning tackle, and
brushing down the horses.
 
Bridget’s
intended was certainly a hardworking lad.

From his vantage
spot across the lane, Hugh had watched as Miles had negotiated the carriage
into the carrier’s yard, and had seen the two women enter the barn.
 
When Sally emerged a few moments later with a
sentimental smile on her face, he surmised that her quest had been
successful.
 
From Sally’s satisfied
expression, he assumed that Bridget had indeed found her carrier’s lad.
 
Watching Sally now, as she wandered around
the yard, smiling at the young lovers’ happiness, Hugh felt an almost
overwhelming desire to go to her.
 
She
looked almost fragile in the dim light, tall but very slightly built.
 
The mass of red gold girls piled up on top of
her head seemed almost too heavy for her long slim neck.
 
But Hugh knew that her internal strength
belied that frail image.
 
Sally Denham
was a force to be reckoned with.
 

Before he
could make up his mind to reveal his presence, Bridget and her swain approached
Sally, and swept her up with them into the little house.

Hugh chirruped
to his team, and the matched pair moved forward.
 
Since his assistance would apparently not be
required, it was his intention to spend the night in his town house in Mayfair, and then return to Castle Kane on the morrow.
  
As he tooled the team in that direction, he
couldn’t help admiring Sally’s execution of her plan.
 
He was not greatly surprised that Sally had
completed her errand so neatly.
 
Miss
Denham was a girl of great resolve and enterprise.
 
In truth, he felt a little foolish at having
driven for two days only to spy on Sally while she competently delivered
Bridget to her new future, but he could not in conscience have done anything
else.
  
It would have been impossible to
drive about his estate with Clarissa Riding while Sally put herself at risk
driving all over London.
 
Hugh dropped his hands, and his team slowed
to a walk.
 
Clarissa Riding.
 
He would have to make it very plain to the
Ridings that he was not going to declare himself.
 
Somehow, in the few weeks since he had last
danced with the ravishing beauty at
Almack’s
, his
desire to offer his hand and heart to the envy of all his acquaintance had
altered significantly.
 
In fact, when he
tried to summon an image the blonde Toast of London in his mind’s eye, all he
could see was Sally as she had looked that last morning at Castle Kane.
 
With her red-gold curls tumbled over his
pillow-case, and her silky-soft limbs entwined with his own.

He was
startled out of his reverie by the angry shouts of the hansom cab driver behind
him.
 

“Get a move
on,
Guv’nor
!”
 
the
man called angrily.
 
“What are you waiting for?
 
Christmas?”

Hugh realized
guiltily that his team had come to a halt, and snapped the reigns, putting his
team back in motion.
 
He definitely
needed to sort some things out, not the least of which was what to do with the
fiery Miss Denham.
 

“So this is
the famous Bridget?”
 
Mrs. Fraser took
Bridget’s chin in one pudgy hand, and scrutinized her closely.
 
“Our Robbie has not stopped talking about you
since first he went to Scotland
last spring.”

Bridget’s
face suffused with color, and she let out her breath in a whoosh.
 
“Hasn’t he? Really?” she asked, in a pleased
voice.
 

‘You’d best
come in and have some supper,” Mrs. Fraser offered.
 
“Robbie would skin me alive if I didn’t feed
you up.”

“Nay, then,”
Robbie objected.
 
“Bridget, love, this is
my brother’s wife, Mable.
 
She’s the best
cook in London.”

“Bridget has
quite a knack in that department, too,” Sally chimed in.

“I’m sure
I’m not a patch on your sister-in-law,” Bridget assured Robbie, eyeing the
older woman nervously.
 

Mable Fraser
merely nodded at the girl complacently.
 
“Not to worry, dearie.
 
You’ve
chosen a lad that could use the combined cooking of two to feed him up.
 
I’ve never seen him walk away from the table
with anything left upon it yet.”

They
followed the woman as she spoke into a small, hot kitchen, and took seats
around a wooden table that held two fat, brown loaves of bread cooling on a
rack.
 
There was a pot on the stove
emanating the succulent smell of lamb stew, and Sally’s stomach rumbled loudly
in response.

Mrs. Fraser
looked at the two women.
 
‘You’ll
be wanting
a bite of supper, then,” she stated calmly,
ladling stew into three small stoneware bowls without waiting for a
response.
 
“Cut a slice of bread,
then.”
  
Sally, feeling a little
overwhelmed, obediently handed Bridget a piece of the warm bread, and dug her
spoon into the bowl.
 

“This is
delicious, thank you, Mrs. Fraser,” she said sincerely.
 
“You are very kind.”
 
Sally took another bite of the lamb stew, and
glanced at her companions.
 
Bridget and
Robbie had their heads close together, fingers entwined, eyes locked,
their
dinner completely forgotten.
 
Sally, feeling very much like an outsider,
was consumed with a sudden an unexpected feeling of envy.
 
She knew what it was like to love someone, to
want to spend your life with them.
 
She
knew desire and deep satisfaction.
 
But
she had no experience of this complete reciprocity, the meeting of two lovers
as one, the knowledge that they had a lifetime to spend together.
 
She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping
noisily on the stone floor of the kitchen.

“I must go,”
she said, feeling a need to get away from the happy couple. “I mean, Miles will
be returning to fetch me.”

Bridget
sprang to her feet, and came around the table to take Sally’s hands.
 
“How can I ever thank you, miss?” she said,
quick tears in her eyes.
 
“You’ve brought
me back to my Robbie.”

The young
man came around to slip an arm around Bridget.
 
“Yes, Miss Denham.
 
Bridget has
told me how you rescued her.
 
All I can
say is
,
if there’s ever anything Robbie Fraser can do
for you, you can consider it done.”

“Thank you
very much, Robbie.
 
I wish you both very
happy.”
 

“Robbie is
going to take me to his mother’s house tomorrow,” Bridget informed Sally.
 
“We’ll have the banns read out, and we shall
be married as soon as may be.
 
Oh, miss,
I’m so happy.
 
And it’s all because of
you.”

“You are
entirely welcome,” Sally told her, edging towards the door.
 
“Good bye and good luck!”
 
She made her escape, and once out in the yard
she looked about for Miles.
 
There was no
sign of him yet, so she strolled in the direction of the lane, enjoying the
feeling of the cool evening air on her heated cheeks.

The sun was
almost down, and the linkboys were busily lighting the street lamps. Sally
walked with her head down, lost in thought, and unaware of her
surroundings.
 
Suddenly she was jostled
by a passerby, and looked up expecting an apology.
 
A man and a boy pushed past her.