Mary Nichols - The Viscount's Unconventional Bride

‘Oh, Betty, how can you say that? And remember you are supposed to be my wife. If you start making eyes at strange men, I shall have to become very jealous.’

‘Oh, wouldn’ that be fun!’

‘I do not want to draw attention to ourselves, Betty,’ she said severely. ‘I am not sure my disguise will bear close scrutiny.’

‘Nor I don’ neither, ‘specially if you was to tek your coat off. That binding you put round y’self ain’t tight enough.’

Louise had stripped off her coat in order to wash and could see what Betty meant. As soon as she had completed her ablutions, she tightened the binding that was supposed to flatten her breasts and was not at all comfortable and put the coat on again. ‘Let us go down and find the dining room,’ she said. ‘I am hungry.’

‘T’ain’t to be wondered at, we had no supper last night, nor breakfast this mornin’, and the bread and ham we had at that inn in Welwyn were not enough to feed a sparer,’ Betty complained.

‘Come along then. And please remember I am Lou, not Miss Louise, not Miss Anything.’

‘Yes, m…Lou.’

The dining room was crowded, but the first person Jonathan saw when he entered was Mr Smith sitting on the end of the bench at the refectory table, which all but filled the room. He had taken off his hat and his thick hair seemed to spring out round his face. His nondescript wife sat beside him. Both were tucking into their pork chops as if they had not eaten for a week. He smiled, walked down the length of the table and took the vacant seat at the head of the table next to the young man.

‘Good evening,’ he said, as a waiter put a plate of food in front of him. ‘I trust the rest of your journey was uneventful?’

Louise lifted startled eyes to his. She had been talking about him only a few minutes before and here he was in the flesh. He was searching her face as if puzzled by it and she felt the colour rise in her cheeks. How stupid for a man to blush! ‘Yes, uneventful,’ she murmured, remembering to lower the timbre of her voice, then turned to look down at her food and concentrate on eating.

‘We didn’t think we should see you again,’ Betty told him, picking up a chicken leg in her fingers and gnawing at it. ‘What happened to those two highpads?’

‘They are safely locked up,’ he said, and though he was addressing Betty it was at Louise he was looking.

She knew that if she continued to behave like a nervous schoolgirl he would soon penetrate her disguise and she must do something to assert herself as masculine. She started by taking a long pull at the quart of ale which stood at her elbow and was glad her brothers had dared her to try theirs so she was not as shocked as she might have been by its bitter taste.

‘Glad you turned up when you did, sir,’ she said, putting the pot down again. ‘We were taken aback by the suddenness of the attack and I did not have time to draw my own weapon…’

‘Your weapon?’ Jonathan queried, smiling faintly.

‘Yes. One of Mantle’s best.’ She thrust her hand into the pocket of her coat and pulled out the pistol.

‘Good Lord! I never thought you meant it. Can you fire it?’

‘It would not be much use to me if I could not, would it?’ It was put back in her pocket before he could pick it up and realise it was unloaded. Mark, who was the best marksman of her brothers, had always said it was dangerous to carry a loaded pistol; it might go off in one’s pocket, and the sight of an unloaded one was often enough to save one’s life. The gentleman’s arrival on the scene had saved her from having to put that theory to the test. ‘I fear highpads are the scourge of travellers and one needs to defend oneself.’

‘True,’ he murmured, endeavouring not to smile. ‘And the sword?’

‘Given me by my fencing master,’ she said. That was partly true. Matthew had taught her to fence and it had been his sword, one she practised with until Papa had told her it was not a suitable accomplishment for a young lady.

‘And no doubt you can use it?’

‘Oh, you need have no fear on that score.’

He was amused. No doubt the young shaver was boasting to impress his young lady, though to look at her she seemed singularly unimpressed. At that moment she was making eyes at Joe, who had seated himself opposite her. He would have to have words with that young man.

‘Let us introduce ourselves,’ he said. ‘My name is Jonathan Linton.’ It was a name he used when on Society business. It left him free to assume whatever pose he chose; sometimes a title could be a hindrance.

‘Louis Smith. This is my wife. We are on our way to York to visit relatives.’

‘What a coincidence, so am I, travelling to York, I mean.’

She stifled her dismay; he was altogether too perspicacious for her peace of mind. ‘I hope you have not been too delayed by having to come to our rescue.’

He smiled. ‘I could not have gone past, could I? Your coach was blocking the road. Besides it would have been unchivalrous and it behoves all of us to maintain law and order where we can.’

‘You are never a Bow Street Runner!’ gasped Betty.

‘No, I am not. I am simply a private citizen doing his duty as he sees it, and glad I am that I did. I have learned those two men are wanted for other crimes in London and will be sent back there to stand trial. I am happy to have been instrumental in bringing them to justice.’ He smiled as he spoke. The two men had seen no reason to hide their real names when asked for them at the Baldock magistrate’s office and he had been surprised and delighted to discover they were the two he wanted in connection with Lord Besthorpe’s burglary, fleeing London. His journey had not been a wasted one, even if he never caught up with Miss Louise Vail.

He ought to have driven on through the night in an effort to catch her, but had decided not to risk his horses on the roads which, north of Baldock, were not always kept in good repair, in spite of the tolls. If his own horses were given a night’s rest, he could take them on the next day instead of hiring post horses. Besides, he was intrigued by the young whippersnapper who faced him now. There was something smoky going on and he hated unsolved mysteries.

The meal was finished and the cloth removed. A jug of ale, a bottle of Madeira wine and another of cognac were put on the table alongside glasses and a pack of cards. Jonathan, still amused by the boy, decided to test him further. He picked up the cards and began to shuffle them. ‘Do you play, Mr Smith?’

Louise hesitated. She could play a good hand of whist, but no doubt the man expected to play for money and she did not know if she dare risk it. But dare she refuse? She was sure he was already suspicious of her. And supposing she were to win, how much easier it would make their journey to have a few extra guineas in her pocket. ‘Yes, I like a game, sir, but I do not play deep. To risk more than one can spare seems to me irresponsible in the extreme.’ This was a long speech for her and was said in the deepest voice she could manage, which made her cough. She took another long pull of ale to clear her throat.

‘We are in agreement, Mr Smith,’ Jonathan said, pouring more ale for himself. ‘But one must do something to wile away the rest of the evening.’ He paused and again scrutinised her face. ‘Unless you prefer conversation?’

‘No, let us play a hand or two of whist,’ Louise said quickly. At least playing cards she would not need to talk much and the men might not notice she drank very little.

Jonathan turned to two men who sat on the other side of Louise. They were dressed in fustian coats and leather breeches and wore black bag wigs. ‘Gentlemen, will you make up a four?’

They agreed and moved to join Jonathan and Louise at the head of the table, introducing themselves as Bill Williams and Charlie Burrows. Betty moved away to talk to Joe. Louise did her best to concentrate on the cards at the same time as she kept an ear for what Betty was saying. She was not sure the girl would not inadvertently give the game away. She lost the first hand and reluctantly added a half guinea to the pot. ‘Betty, my dear, I think you should go to bed,’ she suggested. ‘I am sure you are tired and we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’