The Dangerous Lord Darrington(21)

The carriage jolted over a particularly uneven section of the highway  and rocked precariously. Beth grabbed Tilly and pushed her back into her  seat, but the haughty man was thrown heavily against the earl. The man  grunted, muttered something that might have been an apology and flung  himself back into his own corner.

A shadow of irritation flickered over Lord Darrington's face. It was gone in an instant, but Beth observed it.

'Such treatment as this is surely not what you are used to,' she said  sweetly. 'You will be heartily sick of it by the time we reach London.'

'But I see no need for us to travel all the way to London with the  mail. I have left instructions for my man to pack up a bag for me and to  follow on with my own carriage. He should catch up with us by the end  of the day.'

'I hope by then you will have thought better of this idiotic notion to follow me.'

'Not at all. I hope to persuade you to travel with me in comfort.'

'I am perfectly happy here, thank you.' Another violent jolt at that  moment sent Beth scrabbling for the strap to prevent herself from  crashing against her maid and it gave the lie to her words.

The earl's mocking smile roused Beth's fury. Biting her lip, she  angrily straightened her skirts and scowled at the passing landscape.



The hours dragged by. The pressure to keep moving meant that the stops  to change horses were as short as possible and even though the landlords  of the various inns offered the passengers refreshments they barely had  time to swallow a cup of coffee before the guard was urging them back  into the coach for the next section. It did no good for the haughty man  to declare that he had paid for his luncheon and would take it with him;  the waiter came chasing after him and wrested away the half a fowl he  had wrapped in his handkerchief before he could carry it off. Even the  earl's elevated status counted for very little; the landlord might be  persuaded to serve his meal a little quicker, but even he could do  nothing once the coachman's shout of 'All's ready' went up and they were  obliged to hurry back to the coach or risk being left behind.

Beth's surreptitious glances at the earl showed that he, too, was  finding the journey irksome and each time they stopped to change horses  she half-expected him to jump out and declare he had had enough and  would wait for his coach to come by and take him up, but each time they  pulled away he was sitting opposite her. And deep within Beth, barely  acknowledged, was a sense of relief. She did not want him there,  certainly she did not need him, yet all the same she was aware that she  did not feel quite so alone.



It was early evening and the low sun was casting long shadows when Beth  was roused from her meditations by the blast of a horn. Her first  thought was that it was the guard, blowing up for an approaching  turnpike, then she noticed that the earl was sitting up, his attention  fixed on the window. Beth heard the sounds of a second carriage and  looked out to see a team of horses moving past the mailcoach. She  watched, enthralled, and heard the earl give a satisfied murmur as his  travelling chariot went past, temporarily blocking the light.

'Now, Mrs Forrester, we shall be able to continue our journey in comfort.'                       
       
           



       

Beth shook her head at him.

'Now, my lord, you will be able to go home!'



The sun had set by the time they reached Newark and the blaze of light  spilling out of the inn's many windows was a welcome sight. Beth uttered  up a prayer of thanks when the guard announced that they would be  stopping there overnight. Lord Darrington jumped out and she allowed him  to hand her down. His grip on her hand was firm and reassuring. It  would be so easy to allow him to escort her to London. Only the memory  of how she had thrown herself at him and how he had refused her gave her  the strength to pull her hand away.

'Madam-'

'No! I will not listen to you. Please, leave me alone now.' With a  twitch of her skirts and a brief word to Tilly to bring her bag, Beth  swept off into the posting inn, her head held high.

Guy watched her go, his eyes narrowed, until a shout claimed his attention.

'My lord!' His valet, Charles Fitton, was hurrying towards him. 'We had  you in our sights for the past ten miles or so and I told Thomas to  spring 'em to get past, but we couldn't do anything until we'd passed  the turning for South Muskham-did you see us?'

'Yes, I did, and wondered what the devil you thought you were doing,'  retorted the earl. 'I told you to follow us, not risk my coach and my  cattle in a race!'

Unabashed, Fitton merely grinned. 'We did follow you, until the road  was wide enough for us to get past safely. And it was never a race,  those poor nags pullin' the mail being no contest for our team, m'lord.  Mind you, I had to grease a few palms to have the pick of the stables at  the last posting stage, I can tell you.'

'I hope you haven't spent all my money, Fitton.'

'Devil a bit, m'lord,' replied the valet, reaching into his pocket and handing over a roll of banknotes to his master.

'Thank you. Now, perhaps you will go and bespeak rooms for us-and order another room for a lady and her maid,' he added.



The inn was very busy and it took several minutes for the mail's  passengers to be shown to their rooms. Beth was so tired she was tempted  to lie down immediately and sleep, but she knew it would be foolish not  to eat something, so she shrugged off her jacket and removed her  bonnet, tidied her hair and splashed her face with water. She pulled a  fresh kerchief from her portmanteau and arranged it carefully around her  neck. Thus refreshed, she made her way downstairs to join the other  passengers in the coffee room to await dinner. There was no sign of the  earl and she knew a moment's regret. She had not wanted his company, but  she was forced to admit that his presence had provided her with a  certain amount of protection. Now, walking into the crowded coffee room,  she was uneasily aware of the men's eyes upon her as she made her way  to the table reserved for the mail's passengers. With a sinking heart  she realised that most of the seats had been taken and she and Tilly  were obliged to sit at opposite ends of the table. One of the outside  passengers jumped up to hold her seat for her, but his gentlemanly act  was accompanied by such a leering smile that Beth wished there had been a  space beside the haughty man: she would infinitely prefer to be ignored  than subjected to the zealous attentions of the lanky fellow who  smelled of spirits and tobacco and who constantly refreshed himself from  a small hipflask.



During the meal Beth fixed her attention on her dinner and tried to  concentrate upon what she would do when she reached London. She would  need somewhere to stay, but she hoped that if she made her way directly  to Mr Spalding's office in Cheapside he would be able to recommend a  hotel for her. The man with the hipflask was addressing her again, but  she pretended she had not heard him and when she suddenly felt his leg  pressing against hers under the table she jumped up and excused herself.

Her appetite was quite destroyed. She had never felt so vulnerable  before, but then, she had never travelled alone on a mailcoach before.  For a moment she wished that Lord Darrington had not left, but she  quickly stifled the thought. She had said she did not need his  protection and she would prove it. She just wished she did not feel  quite so uncomfortable.

Beth asked a passing serving maid for directions to the privy. When she  returned she would collect Tilly and they would retire to their room  for the remainder of the evening. She did not think that would prove a  hardship, for after such a gruelling day she thought she would be asleep  almost as soon as she laid her head on the pillow.

She was returning across the yard when she heard a rough voice behind her.

'Ah. So there you are!'

The words were slurred and there was little light in that part of the  yard, but she recognised the lanky form of the outside passenger. She  thought that he must by now have consumed the entire contents of his  hipflask. Without a word she made to pass him, but his hand shot out and  grabbed her arm.                       
       
           



       

'Not so fast, my pretty. I've had my eye on you.'

'You make that sound like a compliment, sir,' retorted Beth, her lip curling. 'I assure you it is not!'

His braying laugh ended with a hiccup. 'Ah, I like a bit o' spirit in my woman.'

She tried to shake her arm free. 'I am not your woman! Now pray, let me go. I wish to go indoors.'

'And so we shall, my dear, in due course. I saw you give that swell  cove the shove and thought you might be needin' a bit o' company.'

'No, thank you. Please let go of my arm.'

'Now don't be unfriendly, lass.' He pulled her closer. 'I thought we might have a drink together. Now, what do you say?'