Regency Rakes 02 - Rescued By A Viscount (18 page)

Slowly, Claire opened the larger of her bags and pulled out the old black cape and bonnet she’d used when she had gone to Tuttle Lane. Taking Simon’s gun, she tucked it into the inside pocket of the cape. Picking up both bags, she threw him one last look before leaving the room.

He would come after her–she knew that–but if she could reach Liverpool before him and collect the child, then hopefully she could able to make it back to London before him. It was a risk leaving him but one she was willing to take. If he caught her, she would face the consequences, but Claire hoped she did not have to face him again until she was safely back in London.

The proprietor was busy picking up broken bottles when she approached him, and she suspected it was his wife helping him. Claire was pleased to hear the woman censuring him loudly and at length about the night’s events.

“Can we help you, my lady?” The man looked relieved to see her standing before him and Claire suspected that was because his wife had stopped haranguing him.

“I have need of a carriage and a driver at once. I have no wish to explain further. I will give you a hefty purse if you simply see to this immediately for me.” She lifted the pouch from her bodice and shook it.

“Will your man be angered with me in the morning if I do this?” The proprietor had a calculating look in his eyes as he studied the pouch.

“He will not,” she lied, “and the money in here should make up for any difficulties that should arise.”

“I have only a cart to take you.”

“That will suffice,” Claire said, shooting a worried look at the door behind her that led upstairs. If Simon walked through it now, she would be in large amounts of trouble.

“And where are you wanting to be taken?”
“I wish to either hire a carriage to take me all the way to Liverpool, or one that will take me to where I can catch the stage.”

The man nodded. “Very well. I’ll have you taken to the next village where you can catch the stage, but it will cost you.”

Claire opened the purse and began to count out the money until the man said stop. Looking at what she had left, her heart sank. How was she to pay for a carriage to Liverpool and back to London with this? And what if whoever held the child demanded money before handing it to her? Tucking the considerably lighter purse back into her bodice, she realized she would have to catch the stage to Liverpool and then think about her next move. Looking at the door, which led back upstairs once more, she thought about returning to the safety of Simon’s side, but instead she drew back her shoulders and followed the proprietor out into the night. This was her problem not his. Not once did she look behind her again, although the urge to do so did not leave her until she was seated beside the proprietor’s son on the small, hard seat of his cart.

His name was Henry and he was sixteen. She apologized for his lack of sleep, and he shrugged. “Taint no mind to me, my lady. I enjoys getting away from there, and I won’t be back until tomorrow, so someone else has to do me chores now.”

He didn’t say much of anything else. However she discovered during the long night they spent together that he did like to sing. Often when Claire was nervous or unsettled, she hummed, and as she did, Henry had started to sing. He had the voice of an angel, and as the little cart rumbled slowly along the rutted roads, they sang every song they knew and many Claire didn’t.

Simon remained steady in her thoughts, and every now and again she would turn to look behind her into the dark, but the road stayed empty.

The moon was low, but Henry seemed to know where he was going, so she tucked the blanket he had given her around her body and sang along with him until, just as dawn had started to break, they rolled into a village.

“If you go over there,” Henry said, pointing to a tall white building that had a large black sign with a goat on it, “you can book for the next stage at The Goat.”

Claire felt a bit weepy to be leaving Henry. She had just spent hours in his company singing, and now he and his angelic voice would be leaving her alone to fend for herself. Which, of course, was what she had wanted.

“Well, thank you, Henry, for the ride and for the singing. I’m sure I will remember this night and your lovely voice for many years to come.”

He blushed to his ears when she kissed his cheek, then he handed her the bags he’d pulled out of the back of his cart. Bobbing his head, he led his cart back up the road and disappeared. Claire hoped he and his pony would have a rest and something to eat before attempting the return journey.

Squaring her shoulders, she fought the sudden urge to call him back and turned, making her way toward The Goat. As it was still early, there were only a few people on the streets, and none were bothering to look at her, she was pleased to see. The stench of ale hit her as she entered the inn minutes later, and visions of last night filled her head. Simon would wake sore and bruised today, and when he found her missing, he would also be furious. Claire had seen him angry last night, but she knew his anger towards her today would be far worse.

“Can I help you?”

“I wish to purchase a seat on the stage to Liverpool, please.” Claire smiled at the woman. “When are you expecting it to arrive?” Her heart sank when the woman said not until late afternoon.

“May I stay here and wait for it?” Claire asked.

“You can take a chair, but you have to buy a meal.”

The woman took Claire’s money and then pointed her to a room that, surprisingly, had people sleeping on the floor. Clutching her bags, she walked over slumbering bodies to a chair that was beside a window facing the street. The air was thick with body odors–none of them pleasant. She could only imagine the noise when these people woke up. Placing her bags at her feet, she clutched her hands together. At least if she sat there, she could see if Simon appeared and have time to hide. Looking around the room, Claire suddenly realized that, should something go wrong, there would be no one to turn to. Her brother would not come to her aid, nor her friends, because they had no idea where she was. Suddenly, her flight from Simon did not seem such a wise idea, and the folly of her impulsive actions now weighed heavily on her shoulders. Shivering, Claire knew the next few hours would be the longest and most challenging of her life.

Simon woke with a groan. His eye was swollen shut, and his face hurt like hell. Moving slowly so as not to wake Claire, he turned onto his side and eased himself upright to sit on the edge of the bed. He pressed his ribs and concluded they were bruised more than broken. His nose did not make any crunching noises upon being tweaked, so he suspected that was good, too. Rising, he moved like an old man to the water, and then, cupping it in his hand, he washed his face. The water felt blissful. Simon wondered how his coachmen were faring. They had arrived minutes after the fight started and waded in with smiles on their faces. Drying his own face, he looked briefly to the window. It was just getting light. He would need to wake Claire so they could leave as soon as they’d eaten. One more night and they should reach Liverpool. Hopefully, tonight would not be quite so eventful.

His eyes went to the bed and found it empty. He searched the room then and found her bags gone. “Stupid, idiotic, bloody woman!” He roared these words so loudly that in seconds, Merlin was pounding at his door. In two strides, he had it opened. “Miss Belmont appears to have taken the notion to continue this journey on her own. Get the horses ready to leave at once.”

Simon grabbed his clothes and pulled them on. Reaching for his gun, he noted it was gone and raised his eyes to the roof. Picking up his luggage, he then left the room, slamming the door so loudly, it shook the walls.

“Where is my wife?” Simon found the proprietor in the kitchen with a woman who was presumably his own wife. Both looked at him in wide-eyed terror as he stormed in. “Answer the bloody question, or last night’s mess will seem like a tea party compared to what I will do to this place.”

“Our son drove her in his cart to catch the stage to Liverpool, my lord.”

“In a cart!” Simon cursed again, this time dredging up a few words he normally used only when alone. “And did you not think letting a young woman leave here with only one man for company would be dangerous?”

“Henry knows the shortcuts, my lord. People rarely travel those roads.”

“How much did she pay you?”

The proprietor edged closer to his wife, bloody coward that he was. “A great deal, my lord.”

Simon had never wanted to hit someone more than he did right now. However, his knuckles were raw and his body ached. Furthermore, he needed to get to Claire before she fell into more trouble. “How long ago did she leave?” The words were snapped out at as quickly as a bullet fired from a gun.

“Last night–not long after you retired, my lord.”

But she was in a cart that would travel much slower than he could, Simon calculated. “Draw me a map with the route they took, and be quick about it.”

“Can’t say as I can write or draw, my lord,” the man said, swallowing.

Gritting his teeth, Simon exhaled slowly. “Tell me the roads he took, then.”

The man stuttered out several words, one on top of the other, which Simon tried and failed to decipher, and just as he was about to wrap his fingers around his neck, the wife elbowed the fool aside and told him in a clear voice what he wanted to know. Without another word, Simon turned on his heel and stalked away.

His carriage was waiting, and he retold the directions to his drivers, both of whom had colorful bruises to match his. “They’re in a cart, so we should catch them before they reach their destination, if not just as they arrive. His men merely nodded, obviously noting the look of fury burning behind his eyes. “Go as fast as you can, Merlin. I fear for her safety if left alone too long.”

“We’ll get to her before trouble strikes, my lord.”

Nodding, Simon felt a small grain of reassurance from his stoic coachman’s words. Climbing inside, he then prayed.

They traveled roads that were not well used, so the journey was not a comfortable one for a man whose body was not in good form. His ribs hurt. His face ached, and when they hit a rut and he gripped the strap above his head to steady himself, his knuckles protested furiously.

“I will shake you, Claire Belmont, until your teeth rattle. Then I will sit you across from me and lecture you for hours,” he muttered. Christ, was she safe? Had she already fallen on trouble?

Closing his eyes, he rested his aching head on the back of the seat while bracing his boots on the one opposite. He could see her as she had looked last night, standing on that table, his gun braced in her hands and that ferocious look on her flushed face. She’d been ready to take them all on, every man in the room, and each one, Simon was sure, had envied him at that moment. She’d stood there with her pretty dress on and demanded every man but the three that belonged to her leave.

“God, Claire, where are you?” Pulling the curtain aside, he searched the paddocks and trees as if she would suddenly appear. Fear gnawed at his insides, and that made his anger climb.

She was so much more than he’d ever believed her to be. She was loyal, and he now knew would do what it took to protect those she felt needed protection. Not that he had ever doubted her, but still, at that moment when he’d seen her standing on that table ready to fight for him, through his horror, he had felt a large, warm weight settle in his chest. She’d been there for him and his men, and there were not many people in Simon’s life who would have taken such a risk to secure his safety.

She’d tended his cuts and bruises and plied him with spirits, and he’d then fallen asleep, and the little witch had left him. Had she thought he would wake and see her gone and just shrug? Simply make his way back to London and let her continue alone?

Foolish woman.

Simon didn’t know how long they had been traveling before he felt the carriage slow to a stop. He had the door open and was outside in seconds.

“The cart, my lord. I think that’s it.”

Following Ben’s hand, he saw they had entered a small village, and coming down the main street was a cart being driven by a young boy.

“Why do you think that’s it, Ben? Surely, there is more than one cart in this village.”

“I saw that horse in the stall next to ours yesterday, my lord.”

“Good enough,” Simon said. “Ben, you get food for all of us, and Merlin, you take care of the horses. I will meet you at that stable.” He pointed to a large building that had horses and carriage milling about in front of it.

Simon walked across the street towards the cart, which had to stop or go around him. It stopped. “Where is the woman you brought here?”

The boy looked at him silently for several seconds.

“I mean her no harm, Boy.”

He nodded then and lifted his hand, pointing to a large, two-storied establishment further down the road.

“Has the stage been through today?”

“No, my lord. I’ve been here many hours and it has not arrived yet.”

Nodding, Simon stepped to the side, then made his way to the establishment called The Goat. He entered and made his way slowly from room to room, of which there were many. She was in the last. Relief nearly buckled his knees as he saw her sitting alone in the corner with her bags at her feet. She wore a black bonnet and cape, presumably the same ones he’d seen her in that day in the lane. Around her, people chatted and laughed while she slept. Her head rested on the back of the seat, hands neatly folded in her lap. Unlike last night, when she had appeared fire and brimstone, she now looked small and vulnerable again. He walked across the room, nodding to people as they moved out of his way. He suspected this was due to his battered face and ferocious scowl. Reaching her, Simon had an urge to haul her into his arms and hold her. However he was still furious, so he nudged her shoulder with his hand instead.