Mary Nichols - The Viscount's Unconventional Bride

They heard the passengers being called to the coach and left the remains of their dinner and went out to it. It was becoming a familiar routine, this bumping along and then stopping to change horses and then bumping along again, sometimes at a canter, sometimes no more than a walk, but whatever speed they went, it made her whole body ache.

They passed through Huntingdon, a quaint little town with narrow twisting streets, once the home of Oliver Cromwell and Samuel Pepys, so she was informed by Burrows, who was the more talkative of the two men. Somewhere they must have passed Mr Linton without knowing it, because soon afterwards he was behind them again.

‘What is the man about?’ Williams demanded. ‘He comes and he goes. It is almost as if he were following us.’

‘I asked him that,’ Louise told him. ‘His answer was that if two coaches set out at the same time to go to the same place, they are bound to come across each other from time to time.’

‘That might be true if they were equal in weight and horseflesh, but that vehicle is lighter than this, carries only two passengers and is pulled by four of the finest cattle I have seen for an age. He must be very high in the instep to be able to command the best the posting inn can procure. He could outrun us easily if he had a mind to.’ All of which, Louise realised, was true.

‘He’s keeping an eye on his money,’ Burrows said with a laugh, nodding towards Louise. ‘Wants the chance to win it back.’

‘He is only watching out for us,’ Betty said, relieving Louise of the need to comment. ‘We were held up afore and he’s making sure it don’ happen again.’

‘When were you held up?’ Burrows asked.

‘Yesterday. Two vicious-looking men with pistols tried to rob us. Mr Linton shot the gun out o’ the hand of one o’ them, cool as you like. Then he tied ‘em up and took ‘em to the beak.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘What else was he to do with them? Couldn’ leave ‘em there, could he?’

‘No, I meant why take it into his head to keep pace with this coach?’

‘I dunno, do I? Mayhap he’s one o’ them thieftakers. I reckon he’s done that sort of thing afore.’

‘Do you think so?’ Louise queried. It seemed the most logical conclusion and she wondered why she had not thought of it herself.

‘Yes, an’ glad I am he’s there,’ Betty said.

From Huntingdon they progressed to Stilton, a hilly village which had given its name to a cheese, where they stopped at the Bell only long enough to change the horses and see to their comfort and that enabled Mr Linton to pass them again. They approached Stamford through woods that made Louise wonder if that might be a place to expect more highwaymen, but they continued without incident and found themselves in a beautiful town rising from the banks of a slow-moving river. It had narrow streets, grey limestone buildings and a proliferation of churches. They stopped at the George for the night.

Louise had hardly left the coach and stretched her cramped limbs than the Linton carriage hove into view and pulled up in the yard. Mr Linton, as cheerful as ever, jumped down and greeted them with a sweeping bow before accompanying them into the inn. It really did seem as if they were stuck with him.

‘Mr Linton, are there no other inns in this town?’ Louise asked.

‘Oh, very many, but I like this one,’ he said, smiling broadly. ‘The company is so congenial.’

The inn was an extremely busy one and Louise wondered if she and Betty would be able to obtain a room to themselves, but while she was trying to persuade the innkeeper to find one for her, Jonathan stepped in and offered his room, which a few sovereigns had already procured. ‘I will take whatever mine host can find for me,’ he told her. ‘I can sleep anywhere.’

She hesitated—she did not like being beholden to this man. It was not just pride, but the feeling that before long he would penetrate her disguise and know her for what she was and then he would have his fun with her and everyone would know she was a female and she would look foolish and vulnerable. She did not want that, but on the other hand, sharing a room with men was something she most certainly could not do. ‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘I would not mind for myself, but my wife is nervous of being alone, you see…’ She looked at Betty, who was once again chattering to Joe and not looking at all nervous.

‘I understand.’ he said, assuming the young man was jealous and not inclined to let his wife out of his sight. If she really was his wife. ‘You are welcome.’

Louise and Betty were conducted upstairs to a spacious room that looked out on to the busy yard. Water was brought for them to wash. Louise stripped off and sponged herself down, but the clothes had to be put on again. The only others she had were feminine garments. She smiled suddenly, wondering what Mr Linton would say if he could see the contents of her bag. It might be fun to change and appear as Miss Louise Vail. She imagined him staring at her in disbelief and then smiling and kissing her hand and saying he liked her much better as a woman. She suddenly became cross with herself for thinking like that. It was pure fantasy and she was doing herself no favours indulging in it.

They went down to the dining room for supper and found themselves again sitting with Jonathan Linton and Joe Potton. Burrows and Williams were a little further down the table. Louise was beginning to perfect her masculine voice, but she did not use it any more than she had to. Mr Linton’s attempts to engage her in conversation were met with little more than polite monosyllables. When he offered her a dish, she took some from it and said, ‘Thank you, sir’, and when he commented on the fine weather, she said, ‘Very fine, sir.’ She thought she was doing well until the meal ended and Burrows suggested they continue the game of cards abandoned the night before. ‘You must give us the opportunity to recoup some of our losses, Smith,’ he said.

‘I did not win so much,’ she said, pretending indifference. ‘’Twas only a trifling amount.’

‘A trifling amount,’ he repeated. ‘Then let us put up the stakes.’ He turned to Jonathan. ‘Will you join us in a game for trifling stakes?’

Jonathan considered declining, but they would only ask someone else, and he wanted to be near the boy, if only to protect him if his losses became too great and he found himself at odds with his playing partners. He accepted, cards were called for, the seal broken and the game began.

Louise was careful, very careful, especially as the half-guinea stake was now a guinea. If she lost all her money, what, in heaven’s name would she do, stranded miles from her objective and with home so far behind her it seemed like another life? Some way must be devised to end the game before that happened. They would not allow her to plead tiredness as she had the evening before.

They played several hands in which she won a little and lost a little, mainly due to inattention. ‘Mr Linton, I could have sworn you held no more trumps,’ she said after he had trumped her winning hand.

‘Are you accusing me of cheating?’ It was said angrily.

Now what to say? She had not meant to accuse him, simply to point out that her concentration had momentarily lapsed. Admit it and let them walk all over her? Tell them she was too tired to go on? She shrugged. ‘If the cap fits, Mr Linton…’

The boy had nerve, more than he would have dared under the circumstances, Jonathan conceded. ‘I have no cap, Mr Smith. Nor anything up my sleeve.’ He shook his sleeves out one by one to prove it.

‘God’s truth, the young shaver’s bold as brass,’ Bill Williams put in. ‘Call him out, Linton. You can’t let him get away with calling you a cheat. I’ll stand second for you.’