Karen Harbaugh (19 page)

She shook her head. “No, of course not. Please take them to the parlour. I shall meet with them, instead of Lord Rothwick. I am afraid he is not in a state to see anyone.” Will was much better today than he had been last night, with only a headache and fatigue. Indeed, he had been most truculent about taking his medicine, which told her he was well on his way to recovery. However, he need not be bothered with something so easily dealt with as helping travelers. Well, she would go to the two people downstairs and see what she could do.

When Linnea entered the parlour, she recognized Miss Sophia Amberley at once. Miss Amberley’s widened eyes and pale face showed clearly that she had not expected the new Lady Rothwick to greet them. To Linnea’s dismay, the girl burst into tears.

By the time Sophia entered the front door of Staynes, she was in an extremely poor mood. Sitting two-a-horse was uncomfortable, the road had been dusty, Richard had barely spoken to her the whole way, and she was tired. She noted a mirror on one wall of the parlour, which revealed a most dismaying picture: her muslin dress did indeed have two bloodstains on it, her hair was in disarray, and there was a definite smudge on her nose. This was not the appearance she wished to present to Lord Rothwick. It did not fit at all with the vision she had of drawing him inexorably to her side and then spurning him in her grandest manner. Although there
was
the possibility she could make herself look exceedingly woebegone and gain the earl’s pity, thereby drawing him to her in that way.

One look at her hostess entering the parlour, however, had dashed all her dreams to pieces. That
woman
was here! And the ring on her left hand showed she was married—to Rothwick, she was sure. How could it be?

She had not seen any banns published in the
Gazette,
nor any announcement of their marriage. Sophia’s face went pale. A special license. They must have been married by special license. And if she had not seen it in the newspaper, it must have been done recently.

To make matters worse, it was just as Richard had told her—the new Lady Rothwick had fashionably dressed dark hair and looked even better than Sophia had thought she had at the inn. It was not fair. It simply was not fair! To her own horror, Sophia’s eyes stung, and giving a decided hiccup, she allowed the tears to rush down her cheeks.

“There, there,” said a soothing voice close to her. A hand patted her back, a handkerchief was given to her, and she was led to a chair, where she sat automatically. “Do tell me what has happened.”

Sophia looked up in astonishment. The woman was actually trying to be kind to her. Or was it kindness? She looked searchingly at Lady Rothwick’s face and saw nothing but concern there. Perhaps, thought Sophia, she was just very good at acting sincere when she was not. Yet Sophia felt oddly comforted by the apparent kindness in her hostess’s voice, which, to her dismay, made her cry all the harder. How disobliging this woman was to act so very amiable, to be sure!

Richard spoke up. “I am sorry, ma’am, but you must excuse my sister. I am sure she has suffered a shock.”

Sophia noted just a hint of doubt in his voice. Well, really! How could he be so unjust! She cried harder.

“We have had a bad accident to our carriage,” Richard continued, “and our poor groom has been hurt severely. We have left him with a chance-met acquaintance, but we need to find a way to transport him to a place where we might find a doctor for him.”

“Well, you must bring him here, of course!” Linnea said instantly.

Richard looked uneasy. “No, I did not mean—that is to say, we should be quite comfortable at the nearest inn. If you would be so kind as to lend us some servants and a coach or wagon—”

“Nonsense! I understand the closest inn is quite fifteen miles away. We have plenty of room here for you and your servant, until such time as he will be well enough to be up and about.”

Sophia stopped crying. Well, it was turning out the way she wanted it to, after all! She managed to smile through her tears, dabbing at her eyes with Lady Rothwick’s handkerchief. “Oh, you are so very kind! We would be very happy to visit until poor Bobs is well enough to be moved.”

“Dash it all, Sophie—”

Sophia turned a sad and rebuking eye toward her brother. “Richard, I never thought you would put vanity and pride before the welfare of another human being.”

“I didn’t! That is to say, we can’t...” A hopeless look came over his face. “Oh, very well. I suppose it is for the best.”

Linnea smiled at him. “I understand how it is: one never likes to be beholden to another, is that not so? But if your servant is truly in a bad way, he should be cared for in the best manner possible. He cannot do well if he is jolted for another ten or fifteen miles.”

Richard looked at her gratefully. “Thank you, my lady. It is just that—it must be awkward for you at this time to have visitors....” He glanced at Sophia, then trailed off miserably, his face flushed.

An answering pink tinged Linnea’s face. “Well, that is of little matter compared to your accident.” She pulled the bell-rope. “I shall have Bartle escort you to your rooms, and shall order a large coach to convey your groom here.”

Sophia suddenly thought of Sir James Marlowe. She wondered if perhaps she should return to the broken carriage—to see how poor Bobs did, of course. “Lady Rothwick, perhaps after refreshing myself, I should go with the coach—to make sure that our poor Bobs is all right. Also, your coachman will need to know where our carriage is. I could direct him.”

She could see Richard eyeing her uneasily. Really! He had no need to look at her that way. She smiled sweetly at Lady Rothwick. “We left a friend of ours there to stay with Bobs, and I would like to thank him for his help.”

“I think perhaps I should go along also,” said Richard.

“Oh, I don’t think so, dear brother,” Sophia replied. “After all, you have already expressed your
indebtedness
to our
jewel
of a friend, have you not?” Richard paled, and Sophia was glad to see he had taken her meaning.

Linnea looked from one to another, clearly puzzled. “Whatever you wish. I will make sure a
groom
accompanies you to help, of course.”

“I shall stay here,” said Richard, eyeing his sister much in the manner a mouse might eye a snake.

Sophia did not take long at tidying herself. Bobs, after all, should not be kept lying by the road when he could be getting the help he needed. And then there was the intriguing Sir James. She had not really, truly thanked him as she ought.

Rothwick’s horses were swift and the large barouche well sprung, so that Sophia arrived at the accident site far sooner than she expected. She looked about eagerly for Sir James but did not see him. Well, she would have to see to Bobs first, after all, she thought. A spark of disappointment flared within her.

She alighted from the coach and went to where Bobs was lying unconscious. Her eyes widened. The groom’s head was resting on a pad made of fine cloth, and a large swath of what used to be impeccable white linen was tied around a splint on one battered leg. Sir James’s work?

“Yes, I think I managed it quite well, if I say so myself,” said a voice close behind her.

Sophia jumped, startled. She turned to find Sir James smiling at her. “Oh! It—it is you! I did not see you…” Miss Amberley found, much to her surprise, that she could not continue speaking, for her breath was quite taken away. Sir James stood near her, without his coat or his neckcloth. Sophia had never seen a gentleman in such a relative state of undress and could not help staring. His shirt was open, and she could see that the brown of his skin extended down past his neck and under the curling brown hair that peeked through the shirt collar. He had rolled up his sleeves, and his arms were also sun-darkened—and sinewy, too. His shirt was tucked into breeches that fit his long, lean, muscular legs quite well, she saw, now that they were not obscured by his coat. He must have gone about without his shirt at some time in his travels, thought Sophia, to have got so sun-browned... all over…

She looked up at him and saw that he gazed, smiling, at her, his eyes amused. She could feel her face growing quite warm and averted her eyes for a moment. “I... it must have been you who made Bobs comfortable... your coat, and neckcloth…”

Sir James’s lips twitched upward in a wry smile. “Not very comfortable, I am afraid, but at least there is perhaps less of a chance that the man will be crippled.”

Sophia looked back at Bobs. “Of course. How thankful I am you stayed here with him! We—my brother and I—reached Staynes, and Lady Rothwick has offered us her home until Bobs is recovered.” Quickly she signaled the Rothwicks’ groom and footman to carry Bobs to the barouche.

“How kind of her.” Did she only imagine a rebuke in his tone? Sophia glanced at him through her eyelashes. His expression was bland, and there was nothing to indicate what his feelings were.

“Yes, yes, it was kind,” she replied. If there was a defiant note in her voice, she did not care. What right did Sir James have to rebuke her, Sophia, after all?

“Do you think, Miss Amberley, that her kindness might extend to my poor self at all?”

Sophia raised her eyes and stared at him. A small, self-deprecating smile hovered about his lips.

“Why, why, I—I do not know....”

“I could repair to the nearest inn, but in my present state of disarray, it would make for a very off appearance, you see.”

Sophia’s gaze was drawn once again to his open shirt. She did not think he looked at all odd, but perhaps innkeepers did not take well to men without coats.

“I am sure I could ask,” she replied. She was rewarded by Sir James’s wide smile. She looked toward the barouche. “Perhaps you could ride with me? In case Bobs should fall from the seat, that is. You could tether your horse to the carriage.”

“How very thoughtful of you.”

A blush rose in Sophia’s cheeks. “Not—not at all.”

Sir James helped her up into the carriage and then sat down beside her. She had not thought of that—that he would be sitting next to her, even though it obviously had to be, since Bobs occupied the whole of the opposite seat. The groom was pale and unconscious, but she noted he breathed regularly. She felt a twinge of guilt, which she quashed hastily. At least he was alive, thank goodness. Riding in a coach with a dead man would have been quite daunting. She glanced up at the man sitting next to her. Although perhaps with Sir James riding with her, it might not be so horrid. He seemed a very resourceful man; she only had to look at Bobs’s leg to see his handiwork. She wondered where he had developed his tan—that is, his talents and his resourcefulness.

“How did you—know what to do? For Bobs, that is?” Sophia felt as if her eyes were drawn magnetically to look at his chest. It was the contrast of white shirt and brown skin that did it, she was sure. Contrasts, she knew, always attracted the eye. She dropped her gaze and caught sight of his hand, lax against his thigh. His hand was also brown—an elegant but strong hand, large and hard looking, but tapered delicately at the fingertips. His fingers looked sensitive, as if they were used to weighing, sensing, touching... She made herself glance up at Sir James’s face again. He gazed at her, his look almost assessing.

“I learned in India.”

“India?”

“Yes. It is a beautiful land, full of mysteries and knowledge, luxury and deprivation, light and dark.”

“Contrasts…”

“Quite so.” Sir James grinned widely at her, his teeth white against his browned skin. “One learns to be ready for any... contingency.” His gaze fell to her lips.

Sophia drew in a breath and bit her lip. Perhaps it was a mistake to have asked Sir James to ride with her. She had thought that Bobs—unconscious, to be sure, but undeniably present—would lend respectability to their situation. Indeed, she knew even the highest of sticklers would not object to this mission of mercy, for not only was Bobs in the coach with them, but a groom and a footman accompanied them as well.

Yet the coach had suddenly become very small indeed. Though Bobs was lying directly across from them in the barouche, she thought it would make not one whit of difference to Sir James, whatever he might have in mind. In fact, what
did
he have in mind?

She said nothing, for she felt spellbound, as if the man next to her were an Indian cobra and she his prey. He continued to gaze at her, and her lips. Sophia felt a gentle caress as his fingers traced a line from her earlobe to her chin. His smile faded, and it seemed that an intent expression grew in his eyes. Suddenly his hand was gone from her face, and she felt the absence as if a chill had come upon her.

“And who knows,” he continued softly, “what dangers might arise in such a land?”

“D-dangers?” Sophia stammered. She quite forgot what they had been talking about. Oh, India. Yes, they had been talking about India.

“You need not be afraid, Miss Amberley. I learned much while in India, and never did come to any harm. Others did, however, which is how I came to know what to do about your servant’s injury.”

“Oh, yes, of course.” Heavens, what was the matter with her? It was not as if she had never been in a carriage with a gentleman before. But here she was, stammering like a skitter-wit. Sophia gave herself a mental shake. She had come to Staynes for one purpose only: to make Rothwick sorry he had chosen another woman over her. That Sir James had decided to accompany her was fortuitous in the extreme: if she thought through her plan carefully, she could have him play a part in it. She thought of Lady Rothwick and smiled. Ah, yes. Most certainly he could play a part.

She peeked at Sir James through her eyelashes. He seemed to admire her, and that was agreeable. Perhaps she could amuse herself by flirting lightly with him during her visit, in addition to executing her plan. She smiled at him charmingly.

“So tell me, Sir James, are the Indian ladies as lovely as I have heard?”

“Oh, many are. But I found I missed their fairer sisters in England.” His gaze flowed over her like the warmth of the sun. Sophia’s smile grew more brilliant.