Ann Lethbridge - Regency Society

What was he thinking! It was a rogue thought and one he hastily dismissed, even though she was wholly enticing, especially when she got on her high horse. There had been moments when he had been tempted to kiss her simply to see her reaction, but each time he had crushed the unworthy impulse. No matter what she had done, she was a young lady of good birth and fortune and as such deserved his protection. He had no right to be imagining what she might look like without those ridiculous clothes—or what her hair would smell like as it lay spread on the pillow beside him!

‘Do you think anyone would consent to be my companion?’ she asked a little naïvely, looking uncertain. ‘Perhaps my great-aunt will be pleased to have me and I shan’t need one.’

‘Yes, we must hope so,’ he replied. ‘I should imagine any number of ladies would be happy to come and live at your expense, Georgie—but you must be careful that you choose the right one.’

‘Yes…’ She looked doubtful. ‘Do you think—?’

Before she could continue a shot rang out. She ducked forward as she felt the air rush past her cheek and realised that it had almost hit her. The horses had taken fright and the young groom was having difficulty in holding them. She controlled her little squeal of fright as she saw Richard move swiftly to the driving box and grab the reins from the hands of his valiant groom.

It took only a few minutes before he had managed to slow their pace to something more manageable, though he did not immediately bring them to a halt. She realised that he was putting some distance between them and whoever had shot at them, and when she heard two more shots behind them she guessed that Henderson had arrived and was making sure that the assassin did not attempt to follow them.

It was perhaps fifteen minutes later that Richard slowed his horses to a walking pace, then gave the reins back to his groom and climbed back to sit beside her. He looked at her for a moment, his intent gaze registering that after her first fright she had taken the incident well.

‘Good girl,’ he said and picked up her cap, which had come off in their mad flight. ‘It is a pity to hide that glorious hair, but I think you should. It won’t do for you to be seen like this, you know.’

‘No,’ she agreed and blushed as he helped her to gather her long hair and tuck it back beneath the cap.

Richard smiled at her in a manner that suddenly took Georgie’s breath. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribcage that she was relieved when Henderson rode up to them and he turned away. ‘Did you see him?’

‘He chose his spot well,’ Henderson replied. ‘He was sheltered by the trees, but his very vantage meant that he could get off only one shot, for the trees sheltered you too after you had passed. I shot at him twice as he fled and I think I may have winged him.’

‘Not dead?’ Richard asked, brows arched.

‘More’s the pity,’ Henderson growled, looking at Georgie. ‘He might have killed you, miss. A fraction either way and he would have shot you through the head.’

‘Don’t!’ Georgie shuddered. ‘Do you think he meant to hit me or Captain Hernshaw?’

‘I think it was you, miss,’ Henderson replied, his expression grim. ‘From what I saw, he couldn’t have been aiming for the captain.’

‘But why would he want to kill me?’ Georgie asked. She had imagined the shot was meant for her companion, and the idea that she had been the true target was frightening. ‘Who could want me dead? Monsieur Thierry wants to marry me. I should be of no use to him dead.’

‘No…’ Richard was thoughtful. ‘Who would inherit your fortune if you died unmarried? You have not made a will?’

‘No.’ Georgie screwed up her forehead. ‘My aunt did suggest it once, but I told her I had no intention of dying for years. I suppose my uncle is my nearest relative, though my great-aunt might also have a claim. There is no else.’ She held back a sob. ‘Surely my uncle would not try to have me killed for money?’ She had made just such a story up for Mrs Jensen, but the suggestion that it might be true was shocking.

‘He was willing to sell you into a marriage you disliked.’

‘Yes, but it was to clear a debt, and he was afraid of Raoul Thierry.’ Georgie looked at him, feeling slightly sick. ‘It might have been him—if Monsieur Thierry thinks that I can tell you something he doesn’t wish you to know.’

‘That would mean he knew who you were,’ Richard said. ‘You told me you saw him in the street in London. Could he have seen you—for long enough to know it was you?’

‘I don’t think so…though he might have seen me last night,’ Georgie said. ‘I saw him clearly in the inn yard, but the lights of the candles in the parlour were behind me. It is possible that he saw me. He might not have known it was me then, but he perhaps realised it later.’

Richard’s eyes went over her. ‘If I knew you before we met, I should not have been fooled for a moment,’ he told her. ‘To a stranger you might pass for a pretty youth, but to anyone who knows you…’

‘Then he must think I am with you for a purpose,’ Georgie said. ‘He may think that I can help you to recognise him…or something of the sort…’

‘Yes, perhaps,’ Richard said and looked thoughtful. ‘You are certain that no one else would benefit from your fortune other than your uncle?’

‘My father was an only child,’ Georgie said. ‘I have only my uncle and my great-aunt.’

‘Then we must assume it is either Thierry for reasons of his own or your uncle for money,’ Richard said. ‘When we reach the next posting inn I shall hire a closed carriage. If your life is in danger, I must protect you.’

‘But we cannot be sure the shot was meant for me,’ Georgie said, frowning. ‘Perhaps the rogue who fired at us thought you would be travelling alone and fired without being sure who he would hit.’

‘Yes, that is possible,’ Richard agreed. ‘But in future I do not intend to give anyone the chance to shoot at you again. We shall travel on by closed carriage.’

Georgie kept her silence. To drive with him in a closed carriage would do little for her reputation if it were discovered, but then she had already lost any claim to respectability and must hope it could be recovered when she reached her great-aunt’s home.

However, he winced as he moved and, glancing at him, she saw the blood spotting on his otherwise immaculate breeches. ‘Your wound,’ she said. ‘It must have opened when you moved so suddenly to grab the reins.’

‘Yes.’ He glanced down dispassionately. ‘It may be as well, for there was a little festering, which is why it was causing me pain. Sometimes it is better to open a wound and let the blood flow to cleanse it.’

Georgie felt doubtful, guessing that he was in far more pain than he would ever say. She made no comment; she knew that he would not thank her if she offered sympathy. He settled back into his seat, telling his groom to drive on, though she noticed a little pulse beating in his throat and sensed that he was having difficulty in holding back his pain as the carriage rattled over a particularly bumpy road.

At the inn, a bustling, busy place at a crossroads, Richard secured both a private parlour and a bedchamber. He left Georgie to herself in the parlour while he and Henderson went upstairs. They were gone for half an hour, during which time she amused herself by staring out of the window at the inn yard. Several private vehicles drew up during that time, their owners calling for refreshment while their horses were being rested or exchanged for fresh. She saw no one that gave her the least need for anxiety, her thoughts centred on what was happening upstairs, and she turned with pleasure as she heard the door open.