Lucasta (4 page)

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?’

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 little 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.’

As the landlord came back into the room at that moment she bit back her retort and asked instead after Mr Potts.

‘He was awake when I called in upon him this morning and he is anxious to be up and about. The wound looks to be healing well so I plan to take him with us.’

Lucasta looked up, surprised.

‘Is that wise, sir? Should he not keep to his bed a little longer?’

The viscount waited until they were alone once more 
before replying.

‘He should, of course, but I am anxious to be gone. I do not wish to offend our host, but I think Potts will recover more quickly in more – ah – salubrious surroundings. It is not far to Coombe Chase and I hope he will not suffer overmuch on the journey.’

‘He must sit beside you in the curricle,’ nodded Lucasta. ‘And I will occupy the little seat at the back, and handle the yard of tin. I have always wanted to do that!’

Lord Kennington laughed at her.

‘What a sad romp you are! Unfortunately, there will be little opportunity for using the horn between here and my godmother’s house.’

‘But I may sit in the rumble seat?’

‘As you wish, although I think Potts may have strong objections!’

Lord Kennington was right, and when the idea was put to Jacob Potts he immediately declared that he was fit as a fiddle.

‘Nonsense, man, I would not be moving you at all if there was any help for it, but I have to get Miss Symonds to Coombe Chase and I would rather not leave you behind,’ retorted the viscount. ‘I did ask the landlord if he had a carriage I could hire, but the only vehicle available is a farm wagon, last used for moving – er – turnips.’

Lucasta, knocking and entering the sickroom in time to hear this, gave a huff of disapproval.

‘That would not do at all,’ she said. ‘You must travel in the curricle, Mr Potts and your injured leg will be supported upon my portmanteau and by pillows that the landlord has been persuaded to sell to his lordship—’

‘Oh? And just how much am I paying for these pillows?’

She met his frowning look with a sunny smile.

‘Only a few pence, sir. And he assures me they are very good pillows, although I would not think they are the
quality
that you are used to, and I have no doubt we shall throw them away once we are finished with them …’

‘Now look, miss, there is no need for all this—’

She put up her hand.

‘Not another word, Mr Potts. Lord Kennington is anxious to get you to Coombe Chase so that you can recover properly and to convey you in the curricle is by far the easiest
solution
for everyone. Now, I have left that little stable boy
minding
the horses and there is a very chill wind blowing, so I think we should set off as soon as possible. My lord, you will need some help to carry Mr Potts out of the inn: I will ask the tap boy to assist you.’ Upon these words she was gone, leaving the groom to stare after her.

The viscount regarded his henchman’s scowl and his lips twitched.

‘Well, Jacob, do you wish to protest?’

The groom shook his head slowly.

‘I’d be as well barking at the moon, m’lord. Who’d’ve thought that slip of a thing would turn out to be so
managing
? We’ve been fair bamboozled, I’m thinking.’

Lord Kennington threw back his head and laughed.

‘Aye, Jacob, I think we have.’