Louise Allen - Regency Rogues - Unlacing The Forbidden

‘A new parish?’

‘No. After I was ordained I realised I was not cut out for the ministry. I desired to put my talents, such as they are, in the service of the reform of society. I have taken a post as secretary to Lord Carstairs.’

‘He has interested himself in the abolition of slavery, has he not?’ It was a cause she had read much about, much to the disapproval of her father, who had interests in the West Indies. ‘It must be a great satisfaction to assist in that endeavour.’

‘Yes, of course, I should have realised you would be knowledgeable on the subject,’ he said, puzzling Thea. But Mr Benton swept on before she could query it. ‘He is also interested in prison reform, and his wife, Lady Carstairs, is active in advancing the education of women. I hope I may make some contribution to all three causes. I was very fortunate that my elder brother, Lord Fulgrove, knows Lord Carstairs well and was able to recommend me to him.’

‘Lord Fulgrove?’ Thea faltered before she could gather her wits.

Mr Benton shifted on his seat. ‘But do I not know you? I thought your face familiar, but I cannot place… I know, I have seen you talking to my sisters Jane and Elspeth in the park.’

Thea stared at him, struggling to find something intelligently evasive to say. ‘I have met them a few times.’ First the risk of scandal, now the danger that word would get back to Papa.

‘I shall make a point of telling them how you aided me,’ Mr Benton said. ‘I write to them almost daily. They will be delighted to know their friend Miss Smith is such a Good Samaritan.’

‘Ah. I, um… We have arrived at the inn. It seems exceedingly shabby.’ She lowered the window as Rhys walked over. ‘I do not like the look of this place. See how dirty the windows are, and the yard is full of rubbish.’

‘Indeed, the merest country drinking house and none too well equipped for travellers by the look of it.’

‘We cannot abandon Mr Benton here.’ The sooner they parted company the better, but she could not allow his health to be jeopardised to conceal her guilty secrets. A blow to the head was potentially very serious, and he had lost a lot of blood, even before his heroic efforts with the diligence. ‘He is travelling south. We can carry him to Lyon and find a doctor to attend to his head.’ She turned to study his pale face. ‘I fear you may require stitches, sir.’

Both men began to speak, but Polly, opening the opposite door to place a small bag on the floor, cut across them both. ‘Here’s the bag with the medical supplies. Mr Hodge thought the gentleman might need a fresh bandage, Lady Althea.’

Mr Benton shot Thea a glance and closed his lips firmly in a gesture that spoke far louder than any words. Rhys rolled his eyes upwards. ‘Devil take it.’

Thea looked from one to the other, her heart sinking. He was a clergyman; he would not condone what he thought to be immorality. ‘May I trust your discretion, Mr Benton?’

‘This is an elopement, I collect?’ he enquired stiffly. ‘Naturally, it is none of my business.’

‘No, we are not eloping!’

‘Perish the thought,’ Rhys added with what Thea felt was unflattering emphasis. ‘I am escorting Lady Althea to our godmother, Lady Hughson, in Venice. We are childhood friends.’

Mr Benton’s poker face softened into a smile. ‘Lady Hughson? I know her well. What a relief! I should have realised nothing untoward was happening after observing your gallant and selfless actions at the scene of the accident. I do apologise! Lady Althea…?’

‘Curtiss,’ she supplied, her conscience giving her a decided pang. They might not be sinning in fact, but her imagination was scandalous enough to condemn her in the eyes of any minister. ‘Because circumstances have led us to travel in a manner which is so open to misunderstanding, I hope you will understand if I ask you not to mention that we met along the way.’

‘But of course,’ Mr Benton assured her. ‘My lips are sealed.’

‘In that case,’ Thea said, ‘I will dress your head with a proper bandage and then we will be on our way to Lyon. Lord Palgrave, would you be so good as to have the sleeping couch put in place for Mr Benton? I am sure he should be lying down.’

‘By no means, Lady Althea,’ he protested. ‘I assure you I will be quite well sitting up—and in any case, I should be travelling with your servants in the coach, should I not? After all, a lady alone in a chaise…’

‘I have been travelling in the chaise with Lord Palgrave for most of this journey,’ Thea said, unwinding the makeshift dressing from his head. ‘I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Besides, I doubt the presence of a clergyman will harm my reputation.’ She peered at the cut. ‘The bleeding has stopped, and I will not risk starting it again by washing your head with the water from this dirty inn. If you will just sit quite still…’

By the time they reached Lyon at seven o’clock that evening Rhys was convinced that he would never get off the horse, let alone walk to his bedchamber. The bruising and strains from holding up the coach had coalesced into one blaze of pain, and his hands, cut and pierced with splinters, were cramped on the reins.

‘Hodge,’ he called as the valet stepped down from the coach, ‘see her ladyship and Mr Benton into the inn. I need to talk to Felling.’

He waited until they had vanished through the impressive front door of the Chapeau Rouge before he called to the coachman, ‘Tom, come and give me a hand, I’m damned if I’m going to fall flat on my face in front of a gaggle of French ostlers.’

It was inelegant and exceedingly painful, but they managed the manoeuvre with a lot of swearing on Rhys’s part. ‘Say nothing to her ladyship or that maid of hers, do you understand?’

‘Yes, my lord. You need some liniment on your back, I reckon. Got just the thing in my baggage.’

‘Horse liniment? Do you want to take the skin off my back, man?’

‘If it’ll do for your thoroughbreds, I reckon it won’t do you much harm, my lord,’ the coachman said. ‘But they’ll be getting a doctor to the other gentleman and he’ll prescribe some fancy French potions for you that’ll set you back a bit of gold, I reckon.’

‘Hot bath is all I need,’ Rhys muttered. It took him the width of the courtyard before he could walk with the appearance of ease, but he managed the stairs and found Althea and Mr Benton in the private salon he had written ahead to reserve.

They were, it seemed, on first-name terms already. ‘The landlord has sent for a doctor and is making up the spare bedchamber in this suite for Giles. Is it not fortunate that they gave us such a spacious one?’ Thea did not turn round as she attempted to press Benton into a chair while she stayed on her feet. ‘Giles, it is foolish to stand on ceremony. You must take care and, really, I am such good friends with your sisters that you may treat me quite as one of them.’

Rhys cast a swift glance at Benton, whose faint air of dizziness seemed to owe at least as much to the effect of being organised by Thea as it did to his head wound. Or perhaps, he thought, narrowing his eyes at the other man, it was more than that. Thea, enchanting a clergyman? Surely not.

‘What are you laughing about?’ Thea demanded, her attention still on her patient. Apparently his huff of amusement had been audible.

‘Just relief at the thought of a hot bath. I’ll see you both at dinner,’ he added, and caught sight of his own grey face in a mirror. Lord, he’d better be out of there before she noticed he was looking like death warmed over.