The Rakehell Regency(322)

"He'll never touch me or my daughter again! The bastard!"



A loud explosion made Jonathan dive against his sister's legs.



He felt a searing pain in his head for a brief minute, and thought, "How strange, I came through the war, only to be shot by the woman who once loved me...."



Sarah gripped him by his shoulders. "Are you all right?"



"Aye."



"When you fell, I thought, well-"



"I'm fine."



"You're bleeding!" she gasped, touching his brow.



He shook his head and sat back on his heels now. "'Tis only a chunk of brick from the gate. It fell on me."



Sarah looked up. She could see a large piece missing out of the tawny-colored stone structure, missing at about the level of Jonathan's head...



"Come, Jonathan, now you can see, we can do no good here any longer. We must go," Sarah urged, horrified at how close she had come to losing him.



"Indeed we must," he said grimly.



He hauled her to her feet unceremoniously. Wasting no time to even check for injuries to her from the fall, he bundled her back into the carriage, and shouted to the driver to hurry on.



Then he sat back against the squabs, and thanked the Lord for preserving him. Thy will be done. But could you please let me know a bit more clearly what it is? he begged with an inward sigh, before all composure finally left him, and he began to weep as though his heart would break.



Sarah held him around the shoulders and prayed as she never had before. Please let Jonathan see the light about this situation, before it's too late for us all...





Chapter Twenty-seven



Pamela sat in the coach hour after hour, struggling to get comfortable with each weary mile to London, for three days. The weather was inclement, the roads sometimes nearly impassable. Even when she was not on the road, she felt plagued by a host of troubles. The food was bad, the beds lumpy, some of them even flea-ridden.



She did not think much of the Earl's arrangements. To be fair, he had not expected to be traveling with a pair of women, her aunt defended him.



But all the same, it was bad enough travelling at such a breakneck pace, without having some respite. It seemed she would only just put her head down on the pillow in the various taverns they had stayed in, before she was being roused by a servant to get washed and dressed.



Her aunt had been overwhelmed with the excitement of the trip to London, and so was in fine form and good company for the Earl despite all the discomfort and inconvenience.



Pamela hoped Aunt Susan's liveliness more than made up for her lack of energy. But she was too heartsick and ashamed of what she had done in Bath to be a scintillating companion. Plus, the more time she spent with the dull Earl, the more she missed Jonathan with a passion bordering on despair.



The fact that she knew they could never be together did not lessen the grief and longing she felt. Another attachment? Not free to do as he chose? She had no idea what he was hiding, why he had refused her. But she had to suspect that he was either already engaged, or worse still, already married.



Even knowing might not have been easy to bear. But at least she would perhaps not have to reproach herself that it was all her fault that he had rejected her. That if she had done better, she might have been able to win his love.



With all these heavy thoughts weighing upon her, she was remarkably silent, often just gazing out the window, or falling asleep as well as she could in the jouncing conveyance.



When Pamela did take note of what was going on around her, she was surprised at the change in the man she had once found too quiet and reserved. The Earl must have been studying the fine art of intelligent conversation, for he began to cite revered authors and make pithy comments.



When speaking of a person who had recently passed away whom everyone had gossiped about whilst he was alive, the Earl observed, "As William Hazlitt said, 'To be remembered after we are dead, is but poor recompense for being treated with contempt while we are living.'"



"How true."



Upon another occasion, when Jonathan's name had been mentioned, he remarked, "He is a good enough man in his way, but his manner leaves something to be desired. As David Hume wrote in Of the Standard of Taste, 'Religious principles are also a blemish in any polite composition, when they rise up to superstition, and intrude themselves into every sentiment, however remote from any connection with religion.'"



"Oh, he is not that bad," Aunt Susan defended him, much to Pamela's surprise. "He's very well educated and informed, and for the most part I'm so pleased to speak with him that I seldom remember he is a vicar."



The Earl said nothing, but looked at Pamela expectantly, as if waiting for her to defend him.