Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

They accomplished the first three changes of horses without any trouble and Talbot, having been told to drive as fast as it was safe to do so, was taking them along at a cracking rate. The roads were rough and though the coach was well sprung, she was jolted from side to side until she thought she would be black and blue before they reached home. It was after the fourth stop that they encountered their first difficulty. The only horses available were an ill-matched foursome that pulled against each other instead of working in harmony. She endured it for half an hour, then put her head out of the door and called up to Talbot to slow them down. He must have taken his attention from the road in order to answer her because one wheel came down heavily into a pothole, which slewed the whole equipage round, but their speed was still carrying them forwards. Charlotte flung herself down with her head in her hands and waited for the impact as the corner of the coach hit one of the trees that lined the road. The sound of panicking horses, rending wood and Talbot’s curses filled the air as the coach turned over into the wayside ditch. The padded seats tumbled about her head and dislodged her hat as she was thrown down on to the side now lying in the mud.

Talbot was at the door before she could extricate herself. He wrenched it open and peered down at her, his tousled head outlined against the branches of the tree and sky. ‘Miss Charlotte, are you hurt?’

‘No.’ Dirty water was seeping in from the ditch, but she was laughing as she pulled herself upright and reached for his hand. ‘Haul me up, there’s a good fellow.’

It was not as easy as it had seemed when the Earl had helped Mr Halliwell to pull his wife out of their coach, but there had been two of them then and Talbot was on his own. Not only that, he had hurt his arm. There did not seem to be anywhere to get a purchase with her feet, but she managed it by stacking the cushions in the muddy water and climbing on those. Then, putting one foot into the shattered woodwork, and with Talbot’s good hand to steady her, she emerged to sit on the top. It was an easy matter to scramble down from there, though her skirt was torn and muddy. Once out on the road, she helped the groom free the struggling horses and then turned her attention to his injured arm. ‘Is it broken?’

‘No, I do not think so, only bruised.’

‘No more driving for you for a while,’ she said, taking off his kerchief and using it to make a sling. ‘How far is it to the next inn?’

‘Four or five miles, Miss Charlotte. I could go and fetch help, but I cannot leave you here alone.’

‘Then we had better both go.’ She tried to cram her hat back on her head, but her hair was so dishevelled it fell off again and she gave up and flung it into the coach.

‘What about the carriage?’

‘It is no good to anyone, is it? Come on, let’s round up the horses.’

‘I should think they are in the next shire by now,’ he said, looking about him for any sign of the animals that had bolted the minute they were freed.

She fetched her bag from the boot and though he went to take it from her, she would not relinquish it. ‘Then let’s be off, we can do nothing here.’

They had barely covered two hundred yards when they heard a vehicle on the road behind them, being driven at a furious pace. They stopped and turned towards it.

Roland, who had been dozing, woke up with a start as Bennett brought the horses to a shuddering halt, nearly catapulting him out of his seat. ‘What’s up?’ he shouted.

‘Miss Cartwright’s coach is in the ditch,’ Bennett called out, scrambling down to investigate.

Roland was out like a bullet from a gun. He peered into the coach and, finding it empty except for Charlotte’s hat, looking decidedly squashed, searched about for any sign of her or her driver, becoming more and more concerned, imagining her unconscious in the ditch, hurt, even dead beneath the coach, and his heart almost stopped. He bent to try to move the vehicle, but it was stuck firmly in the mud.

‘There they are!’ Bennett said suddenly, making him look up.

Charlotte and Talbot were in the middle of the road, walking back towards them. ‘Thank God!’ Roland said. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

He set off at a run. Bennett returned to the carriage and walked the horses forwards until they were abreast of Charlotte, and stopped just as Roland reached her. He took her shoulders in his hands and looked down at her searchingly. There were smudges of dirt on her face and her hair was tumbling about her shoulders. He stroked it back gently. ‘Are you hurt?’

‘A few bruises, nothing more. Talbot has injured his arm.’

‘’Tis nothing, my lord,’ the coachman said. ‘I can ride beside your man, if you would be so kind as to look after Miss Cartwright.’

‘It will be my pleasure.’ He turned to Charlotte and guided her towards the coach. ‘Come along. You can tell me what happened as we go. We will send someone back to fetch your carriage.’

She climbed in and settled herself, trying to hide her torn skirt, wondering if she were destined always to be rescued by him. She might have saved herself the bother of rising early and hurtling through the countryside at breakneck speed; he had caught up with her, and now she would have to sit beside him in close proximity for hours and express her gratitude.

‘Thank you, my lord,’ she said, as he seated himself beside her and ordered Bennett to proceed. ‘I believe there is a posting inn a few miles on. I can arrange for my coach to be fetched there.’

‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I believe we hit a pothole, the coach slewed round and turned over.’

‘You must have been travelling at a prodigious speed,’ Roland commented.

‘I was anxious to reach the mill. And do not dare say it.’

‘Say what?’ he asked with a smile, guessing her next words.

‘More haste less speed. I know it. I shall be delayed by hours.’

‘No, for I will convey you to the mill, but not until after you have been home and changed your clothes. You will lose all authority if you are seen like that.’

She realised he was right, which only made her debt to him the greater. ‘But my coach…’

‘I doubt it can be repaired in hours. It will need to be taken to a coachbuilder and looked at properly, and that means fetching it on a flat wagon. We can arrange it once we arrive in Shrewsbury. There is a good man there who will effect repairs. I can do that after I have taken you home.’

‘There is no need to inconvenience yourself, my lord. I can see to it myself.’

‘Has no one ever told you it is discourteous to disdain a helping hand when freely offered?’

‘I meant no discourtesy.’

‘No, it is your infernal independence. What makes you like that? What are you afraid of? Is it simply me or are you the same with everyone?’

She found the question difficult to answer. ‘I am not afraid of you, my lord. Why should I be?’

‘There is no reason at all,’ he said. ‘But you seem unable to accept even the smallest service without protest. I do only what any gentleman would do given the circumstances.’

‘But you are not just any gentleman, are you, my lord? You are the owner of Amerleigh and everything in it, my neighbour and my adversary.’

‘That is only because you will have it so. It need not be. I should like us to be friends.’

‘Friends?’ she queried, trying not to let him see her hands were shaking and her face was on fire. She did not even have a bonnet brim to hide behind.

‘Why not? We have much in common. I believe I have said that before. There is Tommy and the other villagers, for one, and our interest in improving their lives, and the more I come to know you, the more I realise that the hard exterior you show to the world is only a front, that beneath it beats the heart of a gentle woman.’