Malia Martin (10 page)

His traveling companion shrugged prettily and smiled. “I have it specially delivered.”

“Lovely.”

“I find it terribly interesting, and I very much enjoy Lady Whistledown’s sense of humor.”

“The woman is a menace.” The author of
Lady Whistledown’s Society Papers
, whoever she was, had been the one to put abroad Lady Jersey’s insistence on calling him the Most Delectable Man in England last season.

Hearing the name whispered among a few ladies of the
ton
had been devastating. Seeing the horrible moniker in print had been something out of his worst nightmares.

He would now have to surmise that Lady Farnsworth knew of the name he abhorred. James sighed.

“Why don’t you like London?” Lady Farnsworth asked, thankfully turning the subject.

“I did not say that I don’t like it. I said I don’t enjoy it,” he answered.

Lady Farnsworth looked terribly perplexed. “Aren’t they the same?”

“No,” he said.

She drew her brows together, obviously exasperated with his short answer. “What on earth is the difference?”

“I like London,” he found himself saying. “There are amusements and interesting things and places to see, but at this point in my life I just don’t enjoy it.”

“How very strange.”

He was saved from answering because at that moment they rolled over a particularly large rut in the road. James’s head banged against the back wall of the carriage, and he let out a tremendous groan.

“Oh dear,” Lady Farnsworth said, moving quickly to sit beside him. “Are you all right? Did you hurt yourself?” She reached out, threading her fingers in his hair and feeling the back of his head.

Her fingers on his scalp felt good, very good,
too
good. James pulled away from her quickly. “I’m fine, Lady Farnsworth, really,” he said.

“You didn’t sound fine.”

He didn’t feel fine. Never in his life had he experienced such an overwhelming sensitivity to another person’s presence.

She did not return to her seat, but stayed beside him. They were not touching, but he could feel her, smell her, hear her. He just might be going mad.

“James,” she said softly, laying her gloved hand against his arm.

“Yes,” he answered without moving, barely breathing in fact.

“What are you waiting for?”

James waited for a beat of silence to go by and then said, “Excuse me, Lady Farnsworth?”

She leaned toward him. “What are you waiting for in your life that will allow you to enjoy London?”

James frowned. He had been expecting something else entirely. “When I am settled I think I will enjoy it,” he said, and then wanted to take back his words. She had befuddled him, truly. He never spoke of personal matters with anyone.

“Settled?” she asked softly. “But you have your home. Do you mean married?”

“No.” James sat up a bit. “Really, Lady Farnsworth, I am not sure what I mean at all.”

“You know I have always thought it a shame that people wait for something to happen before they enjoy themselves,” Lady Farnsworth said, smoothing the wrinkles from her gloves.

“I mean it seems that young people are always awaiting the time when they are older. And young women await the time when they are married. And then they await their children, or wealth or whatever they have decided will make them happy. It seems to me that we ought to enjoy the moment for what it is, don’t you think?”

“Of course, but it is rather easier to do so when you are settled, isn’t it?” James asked. “I mean, when you know who you are.”

“Know who you are? Who doesn’t know who they are?”

Now he really had said too much. For some odd reason being with Lady Farnsworth made him say too much, do too much, and most definitely feel too much. James turned to glance out the window. How much longer until they reached Brighton, he wondered?

“Oh.” He heard the soft noise from behind him, but continued to stare out the window.

“I am sorry, Captain. I think I understand, and I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, Lady Farnsworth. That’s quite absurd, really.”

“Right, of course it is.” Lady Farnsworth was blessedly silent for a moment, then she asked, “So, what is something you
like
about London?”

James let out an audible sigh. He turned forward in his seat and stretched his legs out in front of him. They were hours still from Brighton. “The opera,” he said finally.

“Mmmm, I’ve never heard an opera.”

“There are some that are very beautiful. I enjoy the music.”

“So there
are
things that you enjoy?”

He furrowed his fingers through his hair. “I like music,” he said. He was not sure why he told this woman anything at all. There was not another soul on earth at the moment who knew of his liking for music.

“Really?” Lady Farnsworth smiled slightly.

That was a lovely sight. Her full lips turning up at the corners, her chocolate eyes going all velvety.

James nearly groaned out loud. What on earth was his problem?

“The only music I have ever heard is when the men on the docks sing ditties.”

“You must be jesting,” he said, truly amazed.

Lady Farnsworth just shrugged. “I’ve never been to London, and there aren’t very many opportunities to attend an opera or such in Gravesly.”

James nodded slowly. His mother had adored music. One of his only good memories of childhood was lying in bed while his mother sang to him. Her voice had been beautiful, her range incredible.

James decided it would be best if he slept, or pretended to at least. Talking to Lady Farnsworth made him want to explain things that were better left unsaid. “I do not mean to offend, Lady Farnsworth, but I am tired and have a horrible headache. Would you mind if I slept?”

“Not at all, Captain,” Lady Prudence said, and settled back against the seat. “I think I shall rest as well.” And with that she leaned her head against James’s shoulder.

He sat for a moment without moving, and then with a sigh, he leaned his own head against the back of the carriage and closed his eyes. But he didn’t sleep. To the contrary, he was very much awake, his entire body attuned to the pressure of Prudence Farnsworth’s head against his arm, her skirt touching his thigh, and her scent tickling his nose.

R
ichard Von Schubert, Viscount Leighton, slipped past the ramshackle-looking group just climbing out of the oldest carriage he had ever seen and pushed through the doors of Brighton’s Seaside Inn. It was a horrid place, really, but the most delightful young man pulled pints at the bar, and Richard had found himself frequenting more often than not.

He had been in Brighton for a fortnight and was planning to return to London soon. The season had begun in earnest and Prinny had already left the seaside town for the bigger city, thus taking most anyone of interest with him. Richard had stayed a few extra days mostly to see if anything came of the young buck at the Seaside Inn.

He peeked through the doors to the public room, but didn’t see his quarry.

“I am glad the doctor has pronounced you fit, Captain. I have been terribly worried. But I do think this little trip was a good idea,” a woman’s voice said from behind him.

“Of course, Lady Farnsworth.”

Richard blinked, straightened, and turned around quickly. Lady Farnsworth? Of all the interesting coincidences.

The group that had just entered the inn were the very same shabby-looking lot that had been exiting the carriage that looked ready to die when he had entered.

The captain was none other than Captain James Ashley. Richard had met him a few times, the first being many years before in India. Poor man was too honorable for his own good.

Richard eyed the small blond woman intently. Lady Farnsworth. He could not possibly let this opportunity slip by. His grandfather would probably fall over dead when Richard told the old man that he actually had done something worth-while in Brighton. Smoothing his green jacket and pink waistcoat, Richard moved forward. “Captain Ashley,” he said brightly.

At his greeting the man turned a pair of tired-looking eyes on Richard.

The captain blinked, and then recognition hit. “Viscount Leighton,” he said coldly.

Goodness, but Captain Ashley held a grudge ever so long. It was not as if the chit in India had been worth anything anyway. One day Ashley would realize that Richard had done him a huge favor with that one.

“Imagine meeting you here, Captain!”

“Imagine,” the captain said, obvious sarcasm edging his voice. “May I present you to my hostess, Lady Farnsworth.”

The lady smiled. She was lovely, truly, with soft eyes and a wicked-looking mouth. Richard took her hand and kissed the air above it. “Viscount Leighton at your service, my lady.”

Captain Ashley actually seethed beside him. Richard nearly laughed aloud. The captain really needed to learn to use a bit more common sense when choosing his love interests. Poor man was led around by emotions, truly.

“And these are companions from Gravesly,” Captain Ashley said.

Richard glanced up at a huge, bald man with a black eye patch. Good God, nothing like flaunting the fact that you were not quite law-abiding. He’d bet this was the infamous Eurel Clifton Rhodes.

“This is Mr. Clifton Rhodes and Mrs. Leslie Redding.”

Richard dipped his head in the mammoth man’s direction, then kissed the air above a matronly woman’s hand.

“My lord,” they both said, obviously stunned at being introduced. He knew that Clifton was Lady Farnsworth’s butler, so he’d guess both people were servants. Rather out of place for the captain to introduce them, but Richard really didn’t care much for places anyway.

“Lady Farnsworth of Gravesly,” he said, tapping his finger against his bottom lip. “I can’t say that I’ve had the pleasure. Have you ever been to London?”

“No, my lord,” the lady said.

“Well, goodness, my lady, you ought to. The place would become ever so less dreary.”

Lady Farnsworth’s lovely, pouty lips turned up into a smile that would tempt the holiest of saints. “How kind of you, Lord Leighton.”

Captain Ashley was getting ready to plant him a facer. “Would you like to join me?” he asked, enjoying himself immensely. “I was about to get a bit of supper in the public room.”

The captain looked as if he would rather pull his fingernails out from their moorings.

“That would be lovely, Lord Leighton. I am absolutely famished.”

Mrs. Redding shook her head. “Mr. Rhodes and I ate while the captain was seeing the doctor. I’ll just go on up to my room, thank you.”

“Why don’t you make sure Leslie gets to her room, Clifton.” Lady Farnsworth nodded to her butler.

The large man scowled, but turned and followed Mrs. Redding.

Richard could tell the captain was torn—either protect his lady or escape the villain. “You’ve been to see the doctor, Captain? Are you ill?” he asked innocently.

Captain Ashley shook his head quickly.

“Took a pint at the inn at Gravesly that didn’t sit well with him,” Lady Farnsworth said. “But, as he is my guest, I did want to make sure that it was not anything else.”

“Ah.” He would bet there had been something foreign in the captain’s pint. The town of Gravesly, it seemed, was doing a fine job of keeping the captain diverted from his duty. “Well, should we? I am very near starving.” Richard pushed through the door into the public room. He hoped to glean just enough information from the captain and Lady Farnsworth that his grandfather would leave him alone for at least a week.

Viscount Leighton was quite an interesting character, Pru thought, as the man finally took his leave. Obviously quite a fop, with his outrageously bright clothes and flamboyant manners, but very intelligent as well. Pru watched the viscount depart the public room, then turned her attention back to the captain. He had taken off his coat and opened his waistcoat, and he looked about ready to drop into his soup.

“You must be tired, Captain.”

“I must be,” he said, and actually laughed. She did like it when the man relaxed a bit. His dimples showed on such an occasion, and they were quite endearing, really.