Mary Nichols - The Viscount's Unconventional Bride

Betty scowled but obeyed. Louise realised everyone was grinning. She laughed. ‘Must keep one’s hand on the mare’s bridle, don’t you think? Shall we go on? Your deal, I believe, Mr Burrows.’

The evening wore on. Without having to worry about Betty, Louise was able to concentrate and luckily for her the cards fell well. She put them to good use and soon had a small pile of coins at her elbow. But the strain of maintaining her role and her previous sleepless night were beginning to tell. This was nothing like making up a fourth with her brothers, even though they had taught her well. This was fraught with tension. And Mr Jonathan Linton seemed not to be able to take his eyes off her. Was he studying her face in order to intimidate her into playing badly? She began to feel more and more uncomfortable.

‘I think this must be my last hand.’ she said, putting her hand to her mouth to stifle a yarn.

‘But the night is young,’ Williams protested.

‘Nevertheless I am for my bed.’

‘Ain’t anyone ever told you, ‘tis not done to go off with the winnings without giving a body a chance to win some of it back?’ Burrows added.

‘There is no sense in going on if one is going to lose everything one has gained,’ she said, putting her hand over the coins she had won and drawing them towards her, intending to put them in her pocket. Before she could do so Jonathan put his hand over hers and stopped her.

‘You can’t do that, Mr Smith.’ He was enjoying himself hugely. Those wide eyes, the unruly hair, the delicate hands with their neatly manicured nails, the voice that wavered from a squeak to a rumble, the delicate colour in his cheeks, all proclaimed a young lad barely out of puberty, trying to act like a grown man. Burrows and Williams had undoubtedly come to the same conclusion and had determined having some sport with him.

Not that he would be an easy victim. Jonathan had watched him closely; the young man seemed to know which cards each of his opponents held, had played his own hand judiciously and won. Had he cheated? If he had, he had not detected how it had been done. But what if he were not the innocent, but an accomplished confidence trickster? His apparent innocence would deceive most people.

Solving mysteries was the raison d’être of the Club; as long as they were travelling in the required direction, he would to stick with his mission and have a little fun, at the same time. He still had his hand over the young man’s, imprisoning both it and the coins beneath it. ‘You have to prove your success was not beginner’s luck.’

She longed for her bed and the feel of his warm, strong hand over hers was having a very strange effect on her. It made her feel weak and womanly and that would never do. She pulled her hand free. ‘I have to prove nothing, Mr Linton. It was a little game to wile away the evening. They were your words. The evening has sped by and now I am for bed. My wife will be waiting for me.’

‘We must not keep the little lady waiting, must we?’ Williams said with a laugh. ‘Whose hand is on the reins now?’ Then everyone laughed. Jonathan’s own lips twitched, but he refrained from joining in; he did not like to see the boy humiliated. Why that was, he did not know.

Furious Louise snatched up her winnings and left the room with all the dignity she could muster.

Betty woke as she was taking off her coat. ‘Did you win?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. We can eat well tomorrow then.’

They could, but what it had cost her in nervous tension was only now beginning to make itself felt. She was shaking with relief to have escaped so lightly. Those men could easily have detained her and taken her winnings from her—Burrows and Williams, in particular, frightened her. She did not include Mr Linton in her condemnation, though why she did not she was not so sure. He was not like the other two, being more of a gentleman, but what difference did that make? Gentlemen could also be rogues.

She put the extra guineas in her purse and slipped it under her pillow before climbing into bed beside Betty. If her study of the timetables of the York coach had informed her correctly, she had three more nights to endure like this one. At least, they might not be so bad. She put her hand under the pillow and felt the comforting presence of the purse. Betty was right; they would travel in more comfort the rest of the way.

Before he undressed for bed himself, Jonathan sat down to write his daily log, which was required of him when on the business of the Society. He stated the facts without embroidery. Mrs Vail’s attitude had led him to believe there was something suspicious about her daughter’s disappearance and after questioning everyone at the vicarage, he had come to the conclusion she was travelling to Yorkshire, probably accompanied by a young girl, the sister of her father’s gardener. He had followed in his own carriage and come upon a coach being held up by highwaymen, whom he had apprehended. The Society would be pleased to hear that the two men involved had turned out to be Lord Besthorpe’s burglars. He had handed them over to the Baldock magistrate and was continuing his pursuit of Miss Vail.

Louise did not see Mr Linton at the breakfast table next morning, even though, to her shame, she looked for him. He had probably set off much earlier. She and Betty ate a hearty breakfast to prepare them for the day ahead and, having paid their dues, boarded the coach to continue their bone-shaking journey. She was disconcerted to discover the cleric and his wife were no longer with them and they were joined by a very fat lady with a kitten in a basket and the two card players of the evening before. It meant she had to be doubly on her guard and speak as little as possible.

It was not long before she became aware that Mr Linton’s rather splendid carriage was behind them again. Sometimes it stopped when they stopped, sometimes it overtook them and disappeared in a cloud of dust, but then it must have stopped to change horses somewhere else because it was soon behind them again. They were on a turnpike road which was better than most and made good progress, though sometimes they were held up by lumbering wagons and sometimes they had to squeeze themselves to one side to allow a carriage to go past at breakneck speed.

On they went, up and down hills, through woods, alongside fields of growing corn, past cows grazing in meadows, through tiny hamlets where women at their doors stopped to stare as they passed and children, playing in the road scampered to one side. Through Ware they went, then Wadesmill and Puckeridge to Buntingford, where they stopped at the George and Dragon for a whole hour instead of the two or three minutes allowed for a change of horses. Jonathan and his man followed them in, much to the delight of Betty, who was convinced Joe had taken a shine to her.

‘Mr Linton, it is strange, is it not, that we keep bumping into each other?’ Louise ventured. ‘Are you following us?’

‘Not strange at all, Mr Smith,’ Jonathan said. ‘This is the Great North Road; in truth, it is the only road worthy of the name going north from London and even then it is very bad in parts. It seems reasonable to assume that anyone beginning a journey at about the same time, will arrive at stopping places on route at about the same time. That is why the coaching inns are where they are.’ He ignored her question that he might be following them. ‘I am about to leave, but I have no doubt somewhere along the way we shall meet again. I shall look forward to it.’ He swept her a bow. ‘Your obedient, sir.’ And with that he strode out to the yard and climbed into his carriage, now sporting a fresh set of horses. Joe was on the driving seat.

Louise watched it go, half-relieved, halfdisappointed. Was he right, would they see him on the road again? In spite of herself she liked him; she liked his good looks, his captivating smile, his teasing good humour. Above all she liked to know he was close at hand in case they had any more frightening adventures and especially now when she was forced into the company of Burrows and Williams.