Isabelle Goddard - One Night with a Regency Lord - Reprobate Lord, Runaway Lady / The Return of Lord Conistone

‘I suggest we repair indoors and find some breakfast.A private parlour should give us some respite from this din.’

He had to bend down and speak directly into her ear, the noise coming from the inn courtyard was so great. She could hardly believe how many people were gathered into such a small space. There was luggage scattered everywhere: trunks, cloak bags, sacks of produce, bird cages heaped up pell-mell. Ostlers ran back and forth leading out teams of fresh horses, coachmen took final draughts of their beer before blowing the horn for departure. Everywhere people shouted instructions and were not heard. It was bedlam, and the relative quiet of the inn taproom seemed like sanctuary.

The landlord came bustling out, rubbing his hands with pleasure as there was normally little hope of trade at this time of the morning. All anyone usually bought was a quick cup of scalding coffee. But here was a gentleman and his companion, surely more substantial customers, even if the man did look a little the worse for wear and the woman kept her face shrouded.

‘A beautiful morning.’ The landlord beamed ingratiatingly. ‘And how can I help you, sir?’

Gareth frowned. ‘Prepare a private parlour for myself and the lady,’ he said curtly. ‘We leave on the Bristol coach, but wish to take some breakfast first.’

‘Of course, sir. Right away. If you would care to come with me.’

The room the landlord led them to was small and poky with a low window that looked out over the back garden, but it was mercifully quiet. The curtains were grimy and the furniture looked faded and uninviting. Amelie plumped one of the chair cushions and sent up a cloud of dust. Her rescuer glanced across at her, his expression mocking. ‘The housekeeping can wait.’

She glared at him. ‘If you don’t mind, Mr Wendover, I would prefer to be outside.’

‘I’m sure you would, but here we’ll stay. I can keep an eye on you and we can eat breakfast together. Won’t that be companionable?’

His voice was light and his tone ironic, but somehow he made the phrase sound like a caress. Yet the look on his face was calculating. Weighing me up again, she thought, deciding whether or not he made a good bargain when he rescued me. She was beginning to feel unusually vulnerable, confined to this isolated room with an unknown and unpredictable man. But indignation at her imprisonment gave her courage.

‘I’m unsure what you mean by companionable, Mr Wendover. I certainly thank you for the service you’ve rendered me this morning, but I’ve no need of food and would prefer to wait for my coach in the courtyard. If you allow me to pass, you may enjoy your meal undisturbed.’

‘Not so fast. I have no wish to be left undisturbed. On the contrary, I very much desire to be disturbed.’

He smiled derisively as he spoke, but his eyes were hard and measuring. ‘You are mighty proud for a maidservant, are you not?’ he asked. ‘But then a challenge is always welcome.’

She made no reply, for the first time conscious of a shadowy fear. The ancient clock in the corner of the room ticked out the minutes loudly in the gulf of silence that stretched between them. She felt bruised by his scrutiny. Then, without warning, he began to walk slowly towards her, his dark blue eyes intent. He no longer seemed a harmless reveller. She was very aware of his close physical presence and the way he was looking at her was disquieting. His hard gaze seemed to drink her in. She was angry that he dared to stare at her so, but at the same time the pit of her stomach fluttered uncomfortably.

Desperately she strove to exert control over the situation. ‘I don’t understand what exactly you want of me.’ Even to her ears, she sounded faint and foolish.

‘Really? I’m surprised. Do they make maidservants that innocent these days? Perhaps I should remind you that we had a bargain. I helped you from your predicament and you promised to stay with me until your—sorry, our—coach left the inn.’

‘But why?’

‘Come, you can’t be that naive. Why would any man want a beautiful young woman to stay with him?’

She stepped back hurriedly and collided with the threadbare sofa. ‘You surely cannot pretend any feelings for me.’ Her voice was hoarse with alarm. ‘You know nothing of me.’

‘True, but do I have to? You’ll be a charming diversion just when I need one. Here, pull your hood back.’

Before she could stop him, Gareth had flung her cloak back to reveal her face fully. He looked at her wonderingly. A tangle of silken curls tumbled down around her shoulders. Her eyes, the colour of autumn, were wide and frightened and the soft cream of her cheeks delicately flushed. It seemed an age that he stood looking at her.

When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with desire. ‘You are beautiful,’ he said. She flinched and wrapped her cloak more tightly around her body.

‘There’s no need to be scared,’ he murmured smoothly. ‘I’m sure we’ll deal well together.’

‘Indeed, no, sir, we will not,’ she protested. ‘I’m an honest woman and you shall not touch me.’

‘Honest,’ he mused. ‘An interesting word. Honest women hardly choose to escape from their homes at four in the morning. Nor do they come away with men they don’t know. Don’t play your tricks off on me. Instead, let’s be truthful with each other. I’m in need of amusement and you, I imagine, are a little adventuress who will take whatever comes her way.’

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. In a moment his arms were round her waist, a gesture shocking in its intimacy. She shrank from him, but his nearness was making her senses falter. He pressed closer and she felt her body begin to tingle. For a moment they stayed body to body, then quickly she sprang away.

Her face was pink with vexation. ‘How dare you touch me!’

‘Very easily, I’ll think you’ll find. Women are made for pleasure and you’ll provide it amply.’

He made as if to recapture her in his arms, but was interrupted by the door opening. The landlord arrived bearing a ham, eggs, some devilled kidneys and toast. A servant followed with a large pot of steaming coffee.

‘There we are, sir,’ the innkeeper sang out, determinedly ignoring what he had seen as he came in the door. ‘Just the job for a chilly May morning. But good travelling weather, I’ll be bound.’ He continued to spill out words while Amelie retreated to a corner of the room, trying hard to quell her jumping heart.

When the landlord had left, Gareth sat down at the table and began calmly to carve slices of ham and place them carefully on the two plates.

‘Come to the table, Amelie, you must eat,’ he coaxed. ‘No point in starving yourself—you have a long road ahead.’

The glorious sense of irresponsibility that he’d known earlier had gone, but he was still enjoying himself. He had no idea who he was with or what would happen. But this beautiful girl had felt warm and tremulous when he pulled her close and he looked forward to repeating the sensation. It was escape that he needed right now and she had literally dropped into his arms, ready to furnish it.

Amelie resolutely refused even to look at the food.

‘Come to the table!’ His tone was now peremptory.

She remained sitting in the corner of the room. ‘I’m not hungry,’ she said in a freezing voice.

‘Don’t be silly. Of course you’re hungry. Come, I wish to eat the ham, not you. Sit down—or I’ll make you.’

Alarmed at any further physical contact, she abandoned her station and went with as much dignity as she could muster towards the table. Perching at the corner, as far away as possible, she nibbled at the ham and a slice of bread. The coffee was mercifully strong and hot and she gratefully downed two cups. He ate more leisurely as though he had the entire morning to finish his breakfast. And when he’s eaten his fill, she thought, I’ll be next on the menu.