The Reluctant Earl (17 page)

And yet, he’d always seemed so alone.

“Ready, my lord.” The coachman approached with the second horse and Leah’s bag.

“Let’s go. Miss Vance, you can ride my horse.”

“Ride? But...” She stared at the animal’s bare, wet back.

“I realize it’s hardly as comfortable as my carriage, but we are in a hurry, so we cannot make allowances for your gender should you tire or reinjure your foot.”

“Very well.”

That sardonic smile stretched across Chambelston’s face as he lifted her onto the carriage horse. The coachman handed Leah her bundle of belongings and the motley group set off.

The blanket covering Leah’s shoulders grew heavier as it absorbed the drizzle, the aches and pains of the accident swelled with her new bruises, and the water sloshing in her boots chilled her feet into numb lumps.

“Do you yet regret your insistence of making this journey, Miss Vance?” The deepening twilight—early tonight on account of the gloomy skies—hid Chambelston’s expression, so Leah could only imagine arch of tawny brows below the dripping brim of his hat, the sardonic gleam in his eyes.

“I won’t when we reach the next village. If I am not mistaken, I detect smoke.”

“I do believe you are right, Miss Vance.”

The smell intensified as they continued, augmented by the sights and sounds of civilization—the occasional flicker of lantern light, the lowing of cattle, even the indistinct tones of human voices. A half dozen shadowy outlines of buildings loomed before them, the windows of what Leah presumed to be an inn glowing with light.

“Obviously too small to be the next posting inn.”

Water dripped from the brim of Harrison’s hat. “My lord, I suggest you see Miss Vance to a warm fire. Your coachman can find a livery for the horses, and I’ll seek a wheelwright.”

Chambelston hesitated, then retrieved his purse and passed the other man some coins. “Very well, Harrison. I expect you are better versed in such procedures than I.”

“Don’t fret, my lord. If we travel by frigate on our next excursion to London, I’ll yield to your superior skills.”

“If it rains any more, we may need a ship.”

Harrison’s chuckle echoed through the hazy drizzle as he set off.

Chambelston counted out more money for the coachman. “Once Harrison finds a wheelwright, you can return to the carriage to help him replace the wheel. We’ll continue on to the next posting inn. If the repairs go quickly, you will find us there. But if you haven’t arrived before the mail coach arrives tonight, we’ll try to secure seats to London.”

“I hope to see you later tonight, my lord. But if not, I will follow you to London.”

“Come, Miss Vance.” Chambelston reached up and lifted her off the horse.

Her fatigue and discomfort were of such that Leah almost didn’t react to the strong, masculine hands around her waist.

Almost.

“How long do you think the wheelwright will need to make the repairs?”

“I doubt he will finish before tomorrow.”

“But we need to get to London.”

“We’ll warm up here for a few minutes and then leave for the closest posting inn. The mail coach will be passing through late tonight. We can still make London by morning.” Chambelston settled his hand against her back and escorted her to a building with bright lights. A faded sign of a yellow crown and red lion dangled above the door. “Let us see if this Lion and Crown has a warm fire and hot tea while we wait for Harrison to perform his magic.”

An innkeeper met them at the door, took their wet garments and gestured to an empty table before the fireplace.

“Perhaps the lady would like a seat?”

“Thank you.” Leah slid onto the chair and stretched out her feet toward the fire, wishing she could remove her boots.

Chambelston settled into the seat across from her and ordered tea for both of them from the maid who approached the table. He lounged back in his chair. “I wish I had a way to send you back to Rowan Abbey. I doubt the remainder of our journey will be any more commodious than what we have experienced thus far.”

Thoughtfulness, or did Chambelston wish to abandon her? “But you need me with you in London to identify my cousin.”

“Not if we convince the prince to travel to Parliament on another road or at an earlier time.”

“But there won’t be time for that if we don’t arrive in London until morning.” A serving maid brought tea and two cups. Leah waited for the woman to leave before pouring. “Besides, that will only thwart tomorrow’s attack. It won’t prevent this Oliver fellow from attempting again because you won’t be able to identify him.”

“But your cousin can.” The blue eyes stared at her over the rim of his cup. “You never did tell me why you were meeting him yesterday.”

Leah stilled, except for her madly pounding pulse. “So you did see Alec.”

“Only from a distance. Unfortunately I doubt I could find him in a crowd such as the one that will be on the streets tomorrow.”

But Harrison could. Leah didn’t impart that tidbit of knowledge as she took a fortifying sip of the hot brew. “I met with Alec because I wanted to ask what he knew about the attack on Fleming.”

Chambelston wrapped his fingers around his cup as if trying to absorb its warmth into his hands. “And did you learn anything?”

“Not really. Alec claimed his group had nothing to do with the assault. Which I readily believed until...”

“Until you overheard Harrison and I discussing the link between my anonymous note and the papers in Fleming’s chamber.”

“Yes. Blaming Alec’s friends for your father’s death does provide a motive for them to wish ill for Fleming.” Leah set down her cup. “It occurs to me Alec doesn’t know about Fleming’s death and the consequences it meant for me. He assumed I would have gotten the note this morning. But what did he expect me to do? I’ve never been to London. How could I help?”

Chambelston’s brows lowered over narrowed eyes. “He intended you to come to me, of course.”

“Exactly. Alec didn’t mention you by name, but he obviously meant you. You were the one person at Rowan Abbey in a position to thwart this ‘Oliver’s’ plans. You know who to contact, and you will be believed.”

“Only if we arrive in time.”

“If we don’t, I fear I shall lose my cousin forever.”

* * *

The dray—the only transportation Harrison could procure for their four-mile trip—drew to a halt before the posting inn. While Harrison settled the fee with their congenial driver, Julian uncurled stiff muscles, jumped out of the cart and assisted Miss Vance to the ground.

“I’m afraid your purse is considerably lighter, my lord.” Harrison joined them in front of the large inn. “We will have to economize on our meal.”

“I still have the money you provided me, my lord.” Miss Vance retrieved the pouch Julian had offered so many hours earlier. “We can supplement your coins with these.”

His jaw tightened at the idea of accepting assistance. “Thank you. I will replace the funds once we reach London, you know.”

“Of course. But I for one will have more energy and better concentration tomorrow if I’m not weak with hunger when we try to stop the assassin.”

As if he would allow her involvement in any circumstances. “Very well, you make an excellent argument for investing in our welfare.” He clasped her by the elbow, escorted her inside and requested a private room for their dinner.

Once the landlord left, Miss Vance strode to the blazing fire, shed his gloves and struggled with the knotted ribbons of her bonnet.

“Allow me.”

“Thank you.” She cast her face downward, but not before he’d glimpsed the beginnings of a blush in the cheerful lantern light.

His knuckles brushed the chilled skin of her neck as he disentangled the ties. A streak of warmth whizzed through him that owned nothing to the flames on the hearth. He peeled the wet bonnet off her head. “I’m afraid it is ruined beyond repair.” Damp locks cascaded over his hands and down her back, a curtain of dark silk.

“The poor thing hadn’t far to fall to those sad depths.”

While Julian tugged the heavy wet coat from her shoulders, servers waddled into the room burdened with hefty trays of food. The aromas of roast beef and fresh bread teased his senses. He held the chair closest to the fire for her. As she settled onto the seat, her hair once again tickled his skin. He leaned closer to whisper in her ear. “You will take sick if you insist on wearing those wet boots. Kick them off under the table. Neither Harrison nor I will peek at your toes.”

The roses on her cheeks darkened. Or was it only the room’s warmth that made her skin flush?

He backed away and hung her coat on a peg, then took the chair opposite hers—leaving the one beside her to Harrison who regaled them with tales of his children. Alas, though the location provided Julian needed distance, it obliged him to observe her throughout the meal. Those rare smiles flashed like sparks, enlivening her face and revealing her dimple. But as the evening lengthened, the crescents under her eyes deepened and the set of her shoulders drooped.

“Miss Vance, I took the liberty of procuring a chamber for you. I thought you might like to rest until the mail coach arrives.”

Uncertainty wavered in her weary gaze. “I, ah, yes, thank you, my lord.” She rose awkwardly from her chair.

Julian jumped up and guided her up the stairs to a spacious corner room and passed her a key. “Sleep if you can. The mail coach is apt to be crowded and uncomfortable. Or worse. If we find the inside seats already occupied, we’ll be consigned to riding on top. In the cold.”

“What about you, my lord?”

“I spent over half my life in the navy—where being cold, wet and awake at strange hours is customary.”

But she hesitated on the threshold. “You do promise to wake me when the coach comes?”

He captured her chin and tilted her face toward the sconce’s dim light. “Miss Vance, much as the idea of you facing an assassin disturbs me, I would never abandon a lady in a posting inn.”

“I suppose I should have realized so after you insisted on escorting me to Heckton last night.” Her lips trembled, but the shadowy doubts lingering in her eyes suppressed the hoped-for smile. “It occurs to me, my lord, the country would be better served if you were to take a horse and ride to London. Harrison and I could follow in the mail coach.”

Julian didn’t deny the same thoughts had occurred to him ever since the carriage mishap. “A man alone on the London road? It sounds as dangerous as leaving you here. Are you trying to rid yourself of me, Miss Vance?”

“I might—if the matter weren’t so dire. I only thought if you were to reach London before morning—”

“I know. But I’m correct that the roads are dangerous at night. That’s why the mail coaches carry armed guards. And besides, I promised to see you to London.” Because she wanted to protect her cousin?

“Thank you, my lord.”

“Perhaps it is time we put Harrison’s trust and reliance to the test.”

* * *

“Miss Vance?” A deep, masculine voice interrupted Leah’s dream about...the same deep, masculine voice. Chambelston.

She blinked, her eyelids still heavy and her mind still groggy with sleep as she peeked out the window of the stopped coach. “Where are we?”

“Welcome to London. We are at the Swan with Two Necks Inn.” Chambelston wrapped his fingers around her elbow. The coach door popped open and the driver lowered the step. “I instructed the driver to deliver your belongings to my house. We need to get to Parliament immediately. We’ll start at Westminster and walk toward St. James along the prince’s route until we—hopefully—spot your cousin.”

“Is it a long way to Parliament from here?” Buildings squatted one beside another as far as her eye could see through the fog.

“Not if we can find a hackney.”

The other two passengers, a smiling businessman of middling years and his pinch-faced wife, waited deferentially for Chambelston to exit first. Even with lines of weariness cutting across his face and the same greatcoat from their Heckton ride, his commanding presence engulfed the cramped interior of the coach. He sprang to the ground, then reached back with a hand to assist Leah.

She drew in a deep breath, already discerning the heavy smoke for which the city was famous. London. She took Chambelston’s hand and let him help her down.

Harrison joined them while Leah shook out her badly wrinkled skirts. All around, the inn was a hive of activity. The hostler rushed forward to grab horses while passengers entered and exited the large inn.

“I’m sorry you had to ride on top, Harrison.” Chambelston threaded Leah’s hand around his elbow. “I told you I would have—”

Harrison raised a palm in protest. “I didn’t mind, my lord. It was your coin that purchased my fare. I could hardly complain about the accommodations. Now let’s see if we can find a hackney, shall we?”

The gray light of a hazy dawn was peeking over the rooftops as they marched to the road before the inn. A surfeit of noise assaulted Leah’s senses—cart wheels bumped over the cobbled streets, dogs barked, men shouted and swore.

“This way.” Chambelston piloted her through the bewildering maze of streets and buildings. Shop windows stared blankly back at her, their glass reflecting the murky sky and her own disheveled features.

Moments later Harrison hailed a passing hackney pulled by a single sorry horse. “After you, Miss Vance,” he said as the driver pulled the animal to a stop.

Leah forced her exhausted muscles to climb into another vehicle. “I could die happy if I never rode in another carriage or sat another horse.”

Chambelston chuckled as he settled onto the seat beside her. “It’s a long walk back to Northamptonshire.”

Where there was nothing for Leah. No job, no home, no future. Only a sister who didn’t even recognize her.

Harrison finished his instructions to the driver, then scrambled into the hackney as the vehicle set off. “Perhaps, Miss Vance, you would be so good as to provide us with a description of your cousin so we all have an idea who to look for.”

As if Harrison didn’t already know. “He is a bit above medium height. Thin, especially this winter. And he walks with a limp from an injury sustained during the war.” Maybe that last detail would engender a bit of sympathy from these two men and make them less likely to perceive Alec as a villain.