Mistletoe and Mischief (2 page)

“Is this your carriage?” she said, beaming at the stately coach with his crest upon the door. “Then we can be off before he finds me! “

She flashed him a brilliant smile and held her hand out to Charles, as if she expected him to help her up with no more ado. In doing so, she completely missed the startled expression that had come over Timothy's face. Charles found himself growing warm under the surprised glance of his coachman.

Charles had always conducted himself with the greatest propriety. And his servants knew it. Everyone knew it. That was why the prime minister called on him when no one else could be trusted, least of all the Regent's friends. Charles's reputation as an upright fellow had earned him early respect. A successful political career was thought to be a certainty.

He remembered now that he had agreed to escort the girl to her guardian. However, that was before she had told him of her elopement, and now he was hopeful that some more proper solution could be found. He decided he must first try to persuade her to reconsider.

“My dear young lady,” he said again, this time as much for Timothy's ears as for his own, “you must think about the consequences of such an act. If you travel even for a short distance in a closed carriage with a gentleman, your reputation could easily be damaged.”

She turned round eyes upon him–her eyes were remarkably blue, the same shade as her spencer–and laughed with an incredulous twinkle. “I should think that has already been done, shouldn't you?”

She put out her hand again. Stunned by such improper sentiments, Charles supported it quite unconsciously while she climbed into his carriage. He had never been quite so taken aback by anyone before.

Standing as if frozen, he suddenly became aware that Timothy was still gaping at him. Charles frowned until his worthy servant closed his mouth and offered him a hand into his carriage.

Angry, embarrassed and feeling generally ill-used, Charles ignored Timothy's hand and his inquisitive stare. He resented being made to look so foolish in front of his coachman and wondered just what Timothy would say to his fellow servants about this escapade. At the same time, Charles realized suddenly, the girl had made him feel unreasonably prudish for being so cautious.

Charles pulled himself into the coach and seated himself with his back to the box. Owing to the season and the haste of his journey, he had travelled without his valet, so he had ample opportunity to examine his young passenger.

She had placed herself in the forward-facing seat and now looked at him with chagrin. After a slight hesitation, she reached out and patted the bench beside her.

“Wouldn't you rather face forward?” she said. “I should not at all mind being crowded, and I would hate for my presence to render you uncomfortable in your own carriage.”

Her heedless invitation astonished him. “My dear young lady,” he said, “you must take more care with what you say. After all, you don't even know me. To be quite frank, you can have no certain notion of my intentions! “

She opened her eyes wide, as if he had startled her. He was glad to see that his words had made some impression on her at last.

“Oh, dear! “ she said, sighing. “Do you have any dishonourable intentions? I had somehow imagined you quite indifferent to me. Well, then–” She picked up her reticule, wrapped her arms tightly about her and prepared to step down.

“No, wait.” She turned. “You misunderstand me,” Charles said. Exasperation was now added to his list of reeling emotions. “My dear Miss--Confound it! What is your name, anyway?”

She arched her brows. “I am not certain, sir, that I should give you my name. You seem to be under the impression that I am not a proper person to know.”

Charles swallowed his irritation. The truth was that he was abominably worn out, but that was no excuse for abusing this young lady in need of his help. He took a deep breath to calm himself.

He said, “Please. You must pardon me and make yourself comfortable.” He gestured towards the bench. “Please.”

After hesitating a few moments, she seated herself again, and Charles reached for a lap rug to make her warm. She snuggled under it with a grateful sigh and thanked him, so he spread another over her for good measure.

“Now, then,” he said kindly, “you have no reason to fear my intentions. I shall be happy to return you to your guardian unharmed, if you will only tell me who you are, Miss--?”

“Louisa. My name is Louisa Davenport,” she said, smiling again. “And I am truly grateful, my lord. At least ... I assume you are a lord from the crest on your carriage, but if you would prefer not to give me your real name, I shall understand perfectly.”

A brief twinge of shame stung him. He had just been thinking that perhaps he should give her a false name in the event she did prove to be a fortune-hunter. But her astute perception, coupled with his realization that no one could have expected to waylay him or any other wealthy noble in such a spot, made him answer honestly, “Not at all. I am Charles Beckworth, Lord Wroxton, at your service.”

His kindness made her blush when his arrogance had not.

“You must not think,” she said warmly, “that I do not know how shocking my behaviour must seem to you. And I am painfully aware of the inconvenience I have caused. I can only blame myself for my folly. If you return me to my guardian, I shall promise to be as little burden to you as possible.”

The tears he had seen before twinkled on her eyelashes before splashing onto the silk of her spencer. With an impatient gesture, she wiped them away and sat facing him, the healthy colour returning to her cheeks.

Charles bent forward, his resentment momentarily replaced by sympathy. He patted the hands folded in her lap.

“There,  there,” he said, feeling chastened for his earlier ill feelings. “We shall have you home in a trice.”

He lowered the window of the coach, just far enough to call to Timothy. “If I may just have your direction, Miss Davenport, I shall give it to my servant and we can be on our way.”

Already recovered from her moment of sadness, she beamed at him again and said, “To be certain, I was fortunate you came along. In such a well made carriage, I am sure we shall get there in no time. Tell your coachman, if you please, that my aunt and uncle Davenport reside at number 57 Half-Moon Street, Mayfair.”

Charles turned back to the window before the meaning of her words fully struck him. When they did, he gasped and had to swallow several times before he found his tongue.

“Mayfair!” he said, whirling to face her. “Dear God! Do you mean to say you came all the way from London at this time of year?”

Louisa’s eyes, round with surprise, looked fearfully back at him.

“Why, of course, dear sir ... didn't you?”

Charles blustered, “Yes--that is to say I am returning to London from Edinburgh, but–”

She sighed with relief. “Then, isn't it fortunate! For a moment, I thought you were about to say that London would be out of your way.”

Charles opened his mouth and then closed it. He collected himself and started again. “My dear young–” He tried again. “Miss Davenport! It would be highly improper for a gentleman, such as myself, and a lady of your tender years to spend all of four days enclosed together in a carriage! “

She spoke as to a child. “Yes, you have already told me so and I agreed, but I thought we were also agreed that my reputation had suffered already?”

“But the implication– The rumours that are sure to result–”

She laughed. “I am in no position to reflect on that now. But I daresay,” she added comfortably, “that they will all blow over. I am not so green that I do not know that heiresses are forgiven much.”

This information caught him off guard. “Are you an heiress?”

She nodded. “A considerable one.” Then she added regretfully, “I greatly fear that my fortune might have been Geoffrey's object in eloping with me. But perhaps, in my present circumstances, a large fortune might not be such a bad thing to have.”

Charles reflected that at least he, as a marquess, would not be accused of trying to steal her fortune. But as he looked at her–her dazzling curls clustered about her pretty face, her attractive figure–he realized that other motives might quite likely be attributed to him.

He swallowed again. “Miss Davenport, I'm afraid that your innocence keeps you from recognizing your full peril. Why... my own purposes might even be called into question! Improper notions are certain to be roused.”

“Lord Wroxton!”  She fixed him with a look of assumed shock. “Do you mean to tell me you are getting improper notions?”

“No! Not at all! It is just that–”

She chuckled. “I thought not.” She shook her head, and her curls bounced with the motion. “If neither you nor I have an improper idea in our heads, my lord, then I do not see what there is to be concerned about.”

Thinking of his own reputation, and his honour, which might be compromised by such an interlude, he stammered, “But Miss Davenport, how shall we explain such a compromising situation?”

The imperturbable Miss Davenport smiled carelessly at him. “I shall be happy to leave that up to you, Lord Wroxton. For myself, I shall just tell the truth–that you found me in great distress and saved me from my folly.”

Then, as if the discussion were over, she settled back on her seat, raising the lap rugs to cover her shoulders.

“Hadn't we better get under way?” she suggested. “My aunt and uncle will gladly reimburse you for whatever expenses you incur on my behalf, so you need not worry on that score.”

Her mention of this put Charles forcibly in mind of the accommodations they would need to seek on the road. The day was already quite advanced. Charles could not possibly make it to Lord Northridge's estate, nor would he dare show up on his lordship's doorstep with an unknown lady on his arm. Such conduct would surely ruin him. He would never have the government's confidence again.

But the journey to London was far too long to make without breaking, and if they did not hurry, they might find themselves without suitable lodging for the night.

Still suffering from the jolt Miss Davenport had dealt him, Charles did the only thing he could think to do at the moment. He called up to Timothy to make haste and not to spare the horses.

Timothy called down, “Where to, my lord?”

Charles gritted his teeth. “To London, you dolt!” he said unreasonably.

He slammed the window shut and felt his anger gradually fading. He was not accustomed to abusing his servants and already regretted his harsh tone. But, by Jove, this Miss Davenport had a talent for making him do things he had never done before. He glanced at her balefully, but discovered that she had already tucked her feet up under the rugs and had closed her eyes to rest.

The coach gave a lurch and a bump. Putting a hand over his brow, Charles gave in at last to the headache that had been dogging him.

Chapter Two

The coach travelled as swiftly as it could over snow-covered hills; but to Charles, with his head splitting, the ride seemed interminable. He could not remember the last time he had been so overcome by a headache that every dip in the road caused him agony. His companion, however, appeared not to feel all the jerks that tortured him. She dozed snugly on her bench and remained quiet, even after the sun disappeared over the bleak horizon and the coach was plunged into darkness.

By this time, they had stopped twice for horses already, but on neither occasion had Charles stepped down for refreshment, nor had he offered Miss Davenport any. His anxiety to get to London had increased with each mile, and every stab in his head only served to strengthen his sense of urgency. The enormity of the scandal that would certainly follow this escapade burgeoned in his mind until he was convinced his whole career would be ruined by it. That Miss Davenport seemed blissfully unaware of the damage she had done to his prospects did not improve his temper.

Eventually, the call he had expected from Timothy floated down from the box. “Shall I stop at the next village, sir?”

Charles lowered his window and felt a blast of cold air that made him wince. “How bad is it?”

“It's that bad, sir. Even wif a lantern, I don't think I'll see me own nose much longer. I'd fear to cross the moors in the dark.”

Charles sighed. “Push them as far as Brough, if you can.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Pardon me, Lord Wroxton.” Miss Davenport spoke hesitantly across from him. “But are you particularly known in Appleby, sir?”

“No.” Charles realized that in the past four hours he had not given her one chance to step down. A lady might very well feel the need to stop more often, and if that were the case, she had been exceedingly stoic. The awareness of his own thoughtlessness made him feel guilty; but he was too annoyed with her to let guilt soften his tone.

“I had thought we should make as much haste to London as possible,” he said, trying not to clench his teeth. “But if you have needs that must be met sooner, I shall certainly give the order to stop.” Not a gracious way of putting it, he thought, but he trusted that would not stop such a forward chit from demanding what she wanted.

After a diffident pause, she surprised him by saying, “It is not that I require anything in particular, and I quite understand the need to hurry. It is simply that I
am
rather known in Brough.”

“Good God!” Charles said, unable to help himself.

“Precisely, sir. Brough was one of the stops we were forced to make on our journey northward. And by then, you see, I was quite convinced that I wanted to return. It was only the knowledge of my own blame that kept me from making a fearful scene in the inn there. I could not very well expose Geoffrey to public insults.

“But if
we
stop there, too,” she continued in an apologetic voice, “and I appear with quite a different gentleman at my side, I'm afraid I shall acquire something of a bandbox reputation, indeed.”

Charles swallowed the exclamations that rose to his lips. With his head pounding, he had not reflected on all the hazards likely to face him on this journey. He had never thought that they must avoid, at all costs, not only the inns where he habitually stayed, but also the ones in which Miss Davenport had stopped with her erstwhile fiancé. With little hope, he wondered what comfort would be left to them.