The Long Road to Love Read online

  With a growing sense of uneasiness, he led her back to the inn.

  Chapter Four

  The innkeeper had made no idle boast of his wife’s culinary skills. Dinner in the lone private parlor of the Gray Dove was excellently prepared, if somewhat basic, consisting merely of turtle soup, sliced ham, braised potatoes with dill and peas in cream sauce.

  At first there had been an embarrassed silence; then Richard again dominated the conversation with amusing talk of Society, all the while keeping a close watch on Angel. By the time they’d finished their soup, she’d been able to compose herself sufficiently to compliment Mrs. Miller’s fare to Sally.

  At last left alone with their dessert of apple tarts and thick slices of cheddar, Richard said, “I think we need to speak about your reluctance to return to Edenfield.”

  Angelica’s violet-blue gaze came to rest on Richard. Several raven black curls hung loose from her chignon, dangling seductively about her beautiful face.

  “I shan’t allow Giles to decide who I marry when I am so close to my majority. If I marry it will only be for love.”

  Richard made a dismissive gesture with his hand before picking up his tankard of home brew. “ ‘Tis rarely the way for people of our class, my dear.” He drank deeply, eyeing her over the pewter cup. Setting the empty vessel back on the table, he leaned back and inquired, “If I might be so bold, may I inquire who Giles has chosen to be your husband?”

  Angelica abandoned her half-finished tart. Pushing back her chair, she walked to the mullioned window. Lifting the latch, she pushed it open, needing the fresh air before responding, “Baron Paden.”

  While Richard had never met the man, Paden’s ability to invest wisely was well known throughout the ton, where the gentleman had been dubbed Lord Midas. In the eyes of Society, Angel’s marriage would have been considered an advantageous one.

  Before Richard could comment, Angelica added, “You, no doubt, are acquainted with him from your work in the House of Lords.”

  For the first time in his life, Richard was embarrassed by his lack of adherence to his duties. Angel naively assumed he’d properly attended to the business of government inherent with a title, while in fact he’ d been otherwise amusing himself as he always had since coming to Town.

  Irritated to have a mirror held up to his faults, he turned his anger on the one who held the looking glass. Rising, he walked over to stand opposite her. “So, you shun this alliance with one of England’s wealthiest lords in favor of what? A life on your own, doing good works and dwindling into spinsterhood, living with that hatchet-faced Miss Parks.”

  Angelica was certain he was angry with her, but she hadn’t a clue why. Tilting her chin upward, she said, “I shall receive a small income from my late father’s estate when I am one and twenty in October. I see nothing wrong with settling in a small cottage in the country and doing as I please, my lord.”

  Richard took a step closer. “Do you think Miss Parks or some other poor female could protect you from the advances of any passing rogue?” So saying, he slid an arm around her waist and drew her to him. Her heart pounding, Angelica ordered in a hoarse whisper, “Unhand me, sir.”

  Amber eyes gazed into hers. In a ragged voice, Richard said, “You need a man to protect you, Angel. You are too beautiful for your own good.” He then lowered his mouth to hers.

  His lips were punishing and angry, yet she found herself responding. A shiver of desire raced through her and she wanted him never to stop, but suddenly he released her, stepping back to stare curiously at her as if they’d never met.

  “You see what can happen to innocent young ladies without a proper protector,” Richard growled breathlessly. He turned away from her and ran his hands through his auburn hair, leaving it tousled like a small boy’s. “We shall travel through the night. I must have the hood raised on the curricle for it is likely to rain. Be ready in ten minutes.”

  He stalked from the room without a backward glance.

  Angelica stood by the window, her fingers tracing her still throbbing lips. She was certain Richard had kissed her to convince her to marry Lord Paden, but the embrace had had the opposite effect. The very idea of such sweet intimacy with the baron sent a shudder down her spine.

  Her thoughts on her old friend were in such turmoil she couldn’t clearly define them. All she knew was that as long as Richard intended to force her to go back to Edenfield, she would try to escape him, no matter her feelings.

  With that thought settled in her mind, she went to prepare herself for their journey.

  They traveled through the dark August night with only the carriage lanterns for illumination. With each successive town, fewer windows radiated light as the hour drew near midnight. A soft rain had begun to fall within an hour of their taking to the road, and with each mile they traveled south the storm had increased. Their pace dwindled to a plodding walk on the now muddy road.

  A strained silence existed between the pair. On Richard’s part, the lack of conversation was due to his anger at his own conduct at the inn. He’d had no business kissing Angel, even less enjoying it as much as he had. Undoubtedly, she thought him an unremitting cad. But then, hadn’t he behaved as such by taking advantage of a young lady under his care? He’d violated one of his primary rules about never dallying with an innocent. Pushing thoughts of the alluring lady beside him from his mind, he squinted to see through the curtain of rain.

  Angelica’s thoughts were on that kiss as well, but along a completely different vein. Despite the angry manner of the embrace, it had left her wanting Richard to kiss her again. Had she merely fallen under the spell of a practiced rake, or did she harbor tender feelings for him?

  Sneaking a peek at the earl’s face in the golden glow of the lantern, his skin misted with rain, she felt her heart turn in her chest. With the slightest encouragement, she knew she could fall in love with Richard. She forced her gaze back to the road, barely visible through the downpour. She mustn’t make that mistake. He saw women as most men saw a good horse-when one took his fancy, he had to possess it, but once he did, he was always looking for another to excite his interest. She wouldn’t allow herself to become just another forgotten creature in his stable of women.

  “Are you getting wet, Angel?”

  Richard interrupted her thoughts. She was surprised how matter-of-fact his voice sounded. “A bit.”

  “Under your seat is a traveling rug. Pull it out and cover yourself.”

  Angelica quickly found the rug and spread it over their feet and legs. Even with the curricle hood up, the rain had left her gown damp and the warmth of the woolen cover was welcome. She sat back wondering how late the hour as they passed an old cottage beside the road, a lantern hanging lit by the door. Was Richard so desperate to be rid of her that he would make them journey all night long?

  As they moved slowly southward, the rain lessened to a slow drizzle, but from the carriage lanterns, Angelica could see their vehicle traveled through deep water. Her alarm growing, she was about to voice her concerns when a wheel sank down to the axle and the curricle suddenly dipped to the right. Thrown against Richard, she would have fallen into the water had he not grabbed her even as he struggled with the reins.

  “Are you all right, my dear?” The earl’s voice was full of concern.

  Attempting to right herself, Angelica discovered that the angle of the curricle prevented her from moving away from him. The feel of his muscular limbs against her made her stutter, “I-I am unharmed, but whatever shall we do?”

  “Can you hold the ribbons while I get out and see if I can lead the team to pull us out of this hole?” His face seemed barely inches from hers.

  “Yes,” Angelica replied as she reached for the reins, never taking her gaze from his.

  He sat looking back at her in a bemused manner as both their hands held the leather leads; then he seemed to remember himself. He carefully eased out of the carriage, and she slid into his vacated seat, finally stopping when she came to
the tilted curricle’s side.

  Water swirled up near the tops of Richard’s Hessians, but he paid little heed, his thoughts were so full of Angel. He was amazed at how her nearness affected him. Not merely with desire, but with an urge to take care of her and protect her. Pushing such disturbing thoughts from him, he trudged to the horses’ heads and was about to encourage them onward, when the sounds of rushing water echoed from ahead. He returned and removed a lantern from the carriage, telling Angel to hold the team steady while he inspected the road.

  Walking through the darkness, he held the lantern high as the water only got deeper. He stopped and peered into the night. He could barely make out a bridge. Water rushed past the stone structure in a torrent. They’d come to a river which had overflown its banks and they’d get no further south tonight.

  As the water reached his fingertips, he knew it would be dangerous to continue in the direction of the bridge. The rapidly flowing water tugged at his body, trying to draw him downstream. He couldn’t risk being swept away and leaving Angelica here alone.

  Returning to the carriage where she waited patiently, he told her the news. “The way is flooded, we shall have to go back to find a place to stay for the night.”

  But when he attempted to move the vehicle, the carriage proved obstinate and remained stuck in the mud. No matter what the earl tried, the team was unable to pull the curricle free. Blaming himself for having continued even in the storm, Richard went back to Angelica. “I’m afraid we are stranded.”

  Just then the rain returned to a hard downpour, causing Richard to scramble back into the carriage, sliding down the leather seat until the length of his body was against Angelica’s. He put his arm on the seat behind her to brace himself, to keep from crushing her. “Forgive me,” he muttered with a slight grin.

  Angelica knew the slant of the carriage was forcing their close proximity, but that didn’t stop the image of being held by him throughout the night. She suspected a night in Richard’s arms would be dangerous. “I-I believe we passed a cottage a mile or so back. Shall we unhook the team and see if they will allow us to shelter there?”

  “An excellent notion. Stay here while I unhitch the horses.” He waded to the rear of the curricle and retrieved an umbrella from the small boot, then gave it to Angelica.

  “When I have the horses turned around, you can ride to this cottage without getting your feet muddy.”

  Within a matter of minutes the earl had his team free of the traces. He took the carriage rug and placed it on Zephyr’s back. Then he lifted Angelica from the curricle.

  His very strength took her breath away. Angelica was certain her cheeks were red from the electrifying feel of his arms about her waist and limbs. He lightly tossed her up, and she quickly settled upon the horse’s back. She opened the umbrella, thankful for the darkness which hid her blushes. He returned to the carriage one last time and retrieved their portmanteaus.

  It seemed an eternity until they reached the cottage where the lantern still glowed its welcome. Richard sat the portmanteaus on the steps before coming to help her down. He remained with his team while Angelica went to knock at the door.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, within minutes the latch lifted and a small sleepy-eyed boy of seven or eight with curly brown hair peeked out. “What ye want?”

  Too tired to worry about protecting their identity Angelica said, “I am Miss Markham, and that is Lord Blackstone.” She gestured to the earl who stood holding his team. “Our carriage has sunk in the mud, and we are stranded. Might we come in?”

  The young boy chewed his lower lip for a moment, then called to the earl. “Are ye a real lord?”

  “A very wet lord who would like to find a dry place for my horses as well.” Richard touched the brim of his hat, which poured a river of water.

  Eyeing the animals with interest, the lad seemed convinced there was no danger. He threw open the door for Angelica. “Sit by the fire, ma’am, whilst I help ‘is lordship stable ‘is prads.”

  The boy pulled a hat from a peg by the door, then dashed out into the rain, gesturing for his lordship to follow as he disappeared into the darkness. After the pair left, Angelica picked up the portmanteaus and stepped into the cottage. She called to see if anyone else was at home, but it appeared the young boy was alone, a somewhat shocking circumstance considering his tender age.

  Taking the bags, she walked to the center of the large room, then set them on the dirt floor. She was delighted to see a fire on this rainy August night. Thoroughly damp, she welcomed the warmth. Looking around she discovered a small alcove which held a bed with a rough straw mattress, a curtain acted as a door to the tiny room. She opened her bag and retrieved a dry gown and hurried behind the curtain. By the time Richard and the young boy returned, she was seated in front of the fire in an old lilac sprig muslin gown combing her black hair, her wet dress hanging on a chair beside her to dry.

  Richard paused on the threshold as he removed his greatcoat, moved by the picture of Angel, her hair loose, smiling at his young companion who’d gone to stand beside her to chatter about his lordship’s horses. That was the way she used to smile at Richard long ago, and suddenly he wanted her to look at him in that manner again.

  Certain the rain must have reached his brain to be thinking such maudlin thoughts, he tossed his greatcoat across the back of a chair, then turned from the scene to struggle out of his drenched jacket.

  Soon he joined the pair by the fire. His wet, lawn shirt clung uncomfortably, but he didn’t want to embarrass Angel by removing it. “Miss Markham, allow me to introduce our host, Mr. Daniel Wiggins.”

  “Right pleased to make yer ‘quaintance, miss.” Daniel pulled his hat from his head, making his brown curls point forward, then he gave a great sleepy yawn.

  Angelica smiled at the lad’s formal greeting. Despite the lack of a parent’s presence, it was clear he’d been properly brought up. “I’m delighted to meet you, Daniel, but I suggest that you might want to don some dry clothes, or you might catch cold, then return to your bed.”

  The boy looked to his lordship. Richard nodded his agreement.

  “Well, I’ll sleep in the loft, and the lady can take the bed.” He gestured to the small room where Angelica had changed. “But where’ll ye sleep, my lord?”

  “Here before the fire.” Richard gestured to one of the wooden chairs. Seeing the boy frown, the earl smiled.

  “Don’t worry, I shall make myself comfortable.”

  Daniel wished the pair good night, and climbed the ladder to the loft. Left alone with Angelica, Richard inquired if she’d taken any harm from her wetting. She quickly assured him she was fine, but urged him to use the small room to don dry clothes.

  Richard took his bag and disappeared behind the curtain. Soon he returned in stockinged feet, dry tan buckskins and a shirt, but no cravat. He apologized for his informal attire, but pleaded an insufficient wardrobe to cover their drenching. Placing his Hessians beside the fire to dry, he settled into a chair.

  Angelica’s gaze trailed to the vee in the earl’s lawn shirt which exposed a muscular chest. She was very conscious of his virile appeal, and the blood raced through her veins. With an effort she drew her gaze to the fire. Aware that he was looking at her, she uttered the first thought to come to her mind, “Don’t you find it strange that Daniel is here by himself?”

  The earl looked curiously about the room. He’d been so conscious of Angel since he’d arrived in the room, that the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “Now that you mention it, I do. Perchance his parents went to the village, which young Daniel told me is just beyond the bridge we didn’t reach, and got stranded on the other side.”

  Angelica nodded her head, not having thought of such.

  “Yes, that is likely, for I cannot imagine what else would keep a responsible parent away at night.”

  Several possibilities of an illegal nature occurred to Richard, but he didn’t mention them to Angelica. “Daniel tells me the vil
lage of Throcking is a mile or so beyond the river. That means we are in Hertfordshire.”

  “Speaking of the river which we were unable to cross, what shall we do on the morrow?”

  “If the rain stops soon … “ Richard paused as he heard the latch on the cottage door lift. He turned to see a man dressed in an overlarge black cape and a wide brimmed hat which left his face obscured enter the cottage, a pistol tucked into the front of his pants.

  Thinking they’d stumbled into the cottage of a highwayman, Richard rose and grabbed the dueling pistol he always carried in his greatcoat when he traveled, praying the powder was still dry. He leveled it at the man demanding, “Who are you?”

  “I might be askin’ ye the same thin’, stranger.”

  Richard took in every aspect of the man. Through the open cape, he could see what looked like an old faded military uniform. With the war over, the roads of the country were overrun with former soldiers left with no funds and no employment. Had this one taken to the High Toby for his livelihood? Or was he just a traveler sheltering from the storm as well?

  “The river is flooded and our carriage became stuck. We are waiting here until morning.”

  The stranger, taking note of the cultured accents of a gentleman, nodded his head. “Where be young Danny? I’m ‘is cousin, John Wiggins, former private of His Majesty’s army. Been Iivin’ here since his ma died last spring.”

  Richard dropped his weapon to his side, certain it wouldn’t have fired even had he needed it to. He frowned as the young man removed his dripping hat. “Do you often leave the boy alone like this?”

  “I don’t usually leave ‘im, sir, but I been lookin’ for work and got caught by the storm.” John Wiggins had the same dark eyes and hair of his young cousin, but his face was leaner, with a scar across one cheek.

  Angelica, who’d been sitting quietly throughout the encounter, rose on somewhat shaky knees. “Mr. Wiggins, I am Miss Markham and this is Lord Blackstone, and we are grateful for the use of your family’s cottage. Please remove your wet coat and come near the fire.”