Annie Burrows - Four Regency Rogues

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I am the Earl of Amerleigh and this lady is under my protection. She requires a room in which to refresh herself, and after that we both require a meal.’ He produced a pouch from his tail pocket and jingled it. ‘Have fresh horses put to my carriage, ready for us to proceed as soon as we have eaten.’ He paused. ‘And you had better send someone back up the road to round up the horses from the overturned coach. I am afraid they bolted when they were released.’

‘At once, my lord.’ He bustled away.

Charlotte walked over to a settle against the wall and sat down, her hands in her lap. Her face was devoid of colour and for the first time he understood what her life was really like, fighting battles and having to win them, simply because she was a woman. He longed to fight them for her, to protect her, but he had forfeited the right. Going over to her, he sat down beside her. Neither spoke. A few minutes later the innkeeper’s wife came to them. ‘I have a room ready for you, my lady.’

Charlotte did not correct her form of address, but rose silently and followed her from the room and up the stairs to a bedroom that had been hastily made ready for her.

How she managed to answer the woman’s questions about the accident and how the Earl had fortuitously come upon her, Charlotte did not know. She could not go downstairs again until she was calmer and once more in control of herself. She declined the help of someone to help her dress and arrange her hair, but, taking off her skirt, asked if it could be cleaned and mended. The woman took it away and she was alone.

She sat and shivered, though she did not know whether she was simply cold or whether she was suffering from the after-effects of that episode with Roland Temple. She had never intended to let him know she had heard his rejection of her and certainly not that she had been hurt by it, but the words in her head had escaped from her mouth. They had been getting along so well, chatting amiably, until his conversation had become a little more intimate. She might not have minded that if he had not so far forgotten himself as to kiss her and then to declare she was a woman as if he had only just discovered it! It had brought the past back as if it had been only the day before. Oh, she might pretend to be affronted, but she knew she was deceiving herself. Inside, inside the core of her, she had wanted him to kiss her, had revelled in the strange sensations that coursed through her, but in the end she had been left confused and unhappy.

Before today, no man had ever touched her, let alone kissed her, but Roland Temple had, and he had aroused a longing in her she could not account for, a longing to be held, to be protected and loved. Had she fallen in love? If she had, it was a foolish thing to do, especially as she had eschewed marriage and especially as the object of her turmoil was Roland Temple. He considered her a hoyden, way beneath him. Then why had he kissed her? To show his dominance? To prove he was her master? To amuse himself at her expense?

She was startled by a knock on the door. Brushing the back of her hand across her face, she discovered her cheeks were wet with tears. No one had ever made her weep, not since she was a small child, and then it had been out of temper and not misery. She made herself call out, ‘Who is it?’

‘Me.’ The voice was easily recognisable even through the thickness of the door. ‘How much longer are you going to be? Dinner is on the table and we must be on our way in half an hour.’

How she would have liked to tell him she would go no farther with him, but she was nothing if not a realist and knew there was no help for it. She stiffened her spine. ‘I will be down directly.’

He had only gone up in order to satisfy himself she was still on the premises and had not fled, and hearing her voice had made him grimace at his fancies. She was not one to run away; she would always face her adversaries head-on. And to his sorrow, he was one of them. He returned to the dining room and she followed twenty minutes later.

Her skirt had been roughly repaired and her hair had been fastened back with a ribbon; she was, to all intents and purposes, the woman she had been before he kissed her. But there was a subtle difference about her. He could not quite make up his mind what it was. She seemed older, and though she had always been in control, there had before been a light-heartedness about her, a thumbing of her nose at everyone who decried her, an indifference to what people thought of her, which seemed to have disappeared. If it were possible, she was even more self-contained. He did not like or understand this new, cold Charlotte.

She sat down opposite him without speaking and made a pretence of eating. She answered his queries about whether she would have more vegetables, or a little more pie, or whether she preferred coffee or tea, but ventured nothing more than that. When the meal was finished, he conducted her out to the coach, being very careful not to touch her. If he intended to try to make things right with her once they were on the way again, he was thwarted.

‘Talbot,’ she said, as the coachman prepared to climb up beside Bennett. ‘You may ride inside with us. I am sure it does your arm no good to be hanging on to your seat up there.’

He looked startled, shifting his gaze from her to the Earl and back again. It was an order he dare not question. ‘Yes, Miss Cartwright,’ he said, and helped her in.

Two can play at that game, Roland decided. ‘I have a mind to drive,’ he said, climbing up beside Bennett and taking the reins from the astonished man’s hands.

And thus they arrived at Mandeville, having stopped only to change the post horses for his own at the last stage where they had been left against his return and then Charlotte did not leave the carriage.

* * *

Lady Ratcliffe came rushing out as soon as they stopped at the door and was astonished to find the Earl sitting on the box beside his old coachman, and Charlotte being handed down by Talbot, just as if he were the gentleman. ‘Whatever has happened?’ she cried out. ‘Charlotte, just look at you!’

‘I will tell you later, Aunt,’ she said. ‘His lordship is in some haste, so we will not detain him.’

Emily looked up at Roland, who tipped his hat to her. ‘Your obedient, my lady. I must go and arrange for Miss Cartwright’s coach to be fetched and repaired. Good day to you. Goodbye, Miss Cartwright.’ And with that he drove away.

Charlotte stood and watched the coach disappearing out of sight, then with a huge gulp at what might have been, turned to go indoors with Emily fussing round her. ‘What happened? Have you had an accident? Have you been set upon and robbed? Oh, you poor dear. Come up to your room and tell me everything. Meg! Meg!’ And when the girl appeared, flustered at having been summoned in that peremptory fashion, ‘Bring some hot water up to your mistress’s room. And be quick about it.’

‘Do not fuss, Aunt, I shall be as right as ninepence once I have bathed and changed and rested a little.’

‘What was the Earl doing driving his coach? What has happened to yours? Oh, I knew nothing good would come of you rushing off on your own like that.’

‘And so you sent the Earl hotfoot after me.’ She was stripping off her clothes as she spoke.

‘Someone had to save you from your foolishness.’

‘Ah, but who was to save me from the Earl?’

‘The Earl? Surely not?’ She suddenly noticed Charlotte’s bruises. ‘He never did that?’

‘No, of course not.’ It might have given her some satisfaction to blame him for the marks, but she could not bring herself to lie. ‘My coach overturned and I was thrown about. His lordship rescued me.’

‘Oh, thank the good Lord. I thought for a moment—’