Chasing the Heiress (13 page)

Chapter Ten

Colin spent much of the next five days sleeping or pretending to sleep. It was easier than coping with the loving presence of his two brothers and Sophia. When he was awake, they hovered in his room, tormenting him with their constant ministrations.

Most frustrating, Lucy only visited his room when he called for her, and each time she seemed increasingly distant. After their days of constant companionship, he felt her absence like a missing limb, and he wanted to bring back those fleeting days of closeness. Their conversations, playful and serious by turns, had formed an intimacy between them, an intellectual tie he'd never expected to find with a woman.

But he was uncertain what to make of the physical attraction between them. In the garden, she had made it clear that she desired him, but since then, she had treated him only as a nurse would a patient. Had she been serious when she said she only wanted a kiss as a remembrance of their time together? Would she object if, on the road, he tried to kiss her again? If he insisted on a kiss, would he ruin their easy camaraderie, making their journey together miserable? Or could their bodies be as engaged as their minds?

On the sixth day, Colin awoke, intent to leave and soon, even if it meant breaking his promise to Aidan. It took him no time to convince Alice, who brought him his breakfast, to carry a note to Lucy.

When Lucy arrived, he patted the bed beside him and held out his hand. She took it, but when he pulled her toward him, encouraging her to sit on the bed, she resisted.

“It wouldn't do.”

He let her hand fall, and she pulled the chair toward the bed.

“Lucy, what harm can come of sitting beside me? The door is shut.”

She looked at the door, the chair, his hand, and, shrugging, sat on the bed.

“I have decided to leave tomorrow.”

“So soon?” She looked intently at his face, searching—he knew—for signs of pain. He refused to let her see how much his wound still ached.

“I thought you had agreed to another week's convalescence.”

“I will rest during the carriage ride.” He smiled reassuringly.

“Given the attack here, I imagine you don't wish to stop on the road, if it can be avoided.”

“You imagine correctly.” He reached out and carefully trailed his fingers down the line of her chin. She did not object. “We will stop tomorrow night at a friend's hunting lodge.”

“I assume the lodge is uninhabited at this season.”

“Yes. We will have the place to ourselves.”

“Then I'll make a basket.” She started to rise, but he stopped her.

“No, ask
Nell
to make us a basket. She believes we are engaged, so you should act like my fiancée. Ask her for enough food to get six of us to our destination and to feed us for a day or two. We will take the ducal coach—it's larger and more comfortable. But I need your help to manage our escape.”

“An escape, is it?” She grinned, leaning forward. “I love escapes. Will we do it by cover of night? Or will we escape at noon, but lock your family in their rooms so that they are only able to yell at us from their bedroom windows as we ride away?”

“I do like the idea of locking my brothers in their rooms, but it might be best if I simply tell Aidan we are leaving. He will object, but if we have all the pieces in place, he will have trouble stopping us.” He reached out his hand, and she took it.

“Truthfully, if your brother wishes for you to stay, he will succeed.” She met his eyes with the straightforward honesty he'd come to expect. “You are still weak, and he is a duke. But I don't imagine he will refuse.”

“Why? Do you think he's grown tired of playing nursemaid and is aching to return to London?” he asked playfully, but his words covered a twinge of hurt.

“No. I can't imagine your brother has thought of anything but your welfare since he heard you were wounded.” She looked pensive. “I never had siblings, only my parents and then my fiancée, and I grew up on battlefields, so the term ‘brotherly love' never meant much to me. But I saw the look on your brother's face when he thought you were dying and the look when he realized you wouldn't.” She patted his hand. “I'm happy to manage the provisions and the people, but I think you might be surprised at how helpful your brother might be, especially when he realizes this is something you need to do.”

“Since you recommend it, I will ask for his help in leaving,” he said solemnly. “But if you prove wrong and I am trapped in this bed, in this room, for another week, I'm going to expect concessions.” He offered her a slow smile and a cavalier wink, waiting to see how she would respond. If they were to be friends, so be it. But would she agree to be something more, even if only for a little while?

“Concessions. I'm not sure I know what you mean.”

He started to speak, then stopped, then stammered over some syllables for a moment, trying to think of how to broach the subject.

“Hmmm. Do you mean like the kiss you insisted I give before you would allow your wound to be dressed?” She smiled a little daringly, and his heart melted. “Or the kiss I stole from you in the garden?”

“Yes, like those, if of course you are interested.” He caught his breath and held it, hoping and fearing she would agree.

“I suppose I would need to think on it. Perhaps I would even want some concessions of my own.” And she slipped from the room before he could even ask what those concessions might be.

* * *

After she gave the cook instructions on how to prepare the baskets for their trip and gave Fletcher the message to prepare to leave, Lucy retired to her room. She called for a bath, and Nell, all smiles, had given her the key to the bathing room reserved for the wealthiest guests (and Nell).

As Lucy lay in the hot water, she found her thoughts turning to her great-aunt, and the house she would not return to, a house with running water and heated baths. She would not fool herself that she wasn't grateful to be traveling with Colin. It would hide her better than any other course she could have chosen.

He was a kind, honest man, and she regretted she could not be forthcoming in return. At least not yet—or perhaps ever. What would it feel like to ride across the country with him? Could she resist him under such close quarters? Would she want to? If “Lucy” were going to disappear at the end of their journey, why shouldn't she enjoy the pleasure of his company in the meanwhile? In any liaison, she would be betraying no future husband, for she never intended to marry, and the husband she had intended was already dead.

No, the only possible problem would be crossing paths with Colin in society. But even that was unlikely. His brother was a duke. He traveled in circles above hers and, she prayed, above her cousin's.

After her bath, she returned to her room—directly above Colin's, an exact replica of his.

She imagined, as she lay in bed above him, that she lay in bed with him instead. She thought of his kisses, and she touched her fingers to her lips, remembering. She remembered his breath in her hair, his lips against her neck, the tickle of his whiskers grown into a pleasantly rough stubble during his convalescence.

She imagined Colin's hands, the elegant strength she'd felt when she'd held them during his sickness. She already longed again for his touch, his hand on her breast, his mouth on hers. She could imagine exactly how Colin's hand would feel on her belly, her thighs, her buttocks because James had touched her in all those places. But she didn't long for James's roughened hands. James had smelled of leather, of gun oil, of lineament, and though he never came to her without as much of a bath as he could manage in the camps, he'd always smelled of war. Colin smelled of—she realized with a half laugh—soap. One of the finer soaps, probably French milled, with just a hint of spice. This man smelled of culture, of ballrooms, of clean sheets—of peace.

* * *

The next morning, Lucy rose early, having dreamed of Colin through the night. As soon as she had learned that they were to begin their journey, she had washed both of her dresses, wishing to set out in fresh, clean clothes. She had cut out the makeshift pocket that had held her great-aunt's papers and placed it to the side, where it would not be harmed. It took only a few minutes to sew it back in place and put on her dress for the journey.

Aurelia had not confided in her what the letter said, and Lucy had not asked, only promised to deliver it as soon as she could. Even so, it had already been three months since her great-aunt's unexpectedly sudden death. But she would fulfill her obligation soon: Colin had already promised to take her where she needed to go.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't hear the latch click as the door to the shared drawing room opened. And she turned almost into Colin's arms.

He set her back, smiling. “The carriage will be ready within the hour.”

“I feel that I must make a confession to you, before we go.” She watched his face turn from playful to severe.

“I wish to hear all your confessions.”

“It's a small one, really. My given name isn't Lucy. It's a pet name, what my father always called me when I was growing up in the camps and the men adopted it. But Lucy is the name I gave soldiers to hold when they had no one else to remember, as I held their hands. . . .” She blinked away unexpected tears.

Colin's face held only compassion. “When they died.”

She nodded.

“Then, is it a name you wish to remember or to forget?” He folded her into his arms.

“I'm more myself when I'm Lucy,” she whispered into his chest.

“Then Lucy it is. My angel, my star . . .” He set her back and looked dismayed as he examined her clothes. “. . . in unsuitable clothes. Is there a clothier in the neighborhood?”

“My clothes are adequate, I think, to our travels.” His question reminded her that she had not fully revealed the extent of her troubles, and she felt the same pang of panic that she'd felt each time she'd seen Oaf in the stable yard changing his horse for another leg of his search. She turned away from Colin, so he could not see her face.

“But they are not adequate, if we must claim an engagement.”

“It would be easier for you to dress down than for me to dress to your station.”

“I'm no better than a lord's younger brother.”

“But a lord's younger brother is far superior to a scullery maid.” She felt her spine stiffen. “And I have only clothes a servant would wear.”

He clasped her shoulders and pulled her to him, her back to his chest, hugging her close but without kissing, just letting his breath warm her neck. He whispered in her hair, laughing. “Well, my lady, I will solve this problem of clothes.” He began a line of kisses from her ear to her shoulder, and she tilted her head to let him kiss her neck thoroughly. She felt his body tense; then she heard it too: the crying of a baby.

“Go.”

And he was gone.

She leaned for a moment against the wall, catching her breath. Just the slightest touch, and she wanted him to touch her again. It would be a long day.

* * *

The baby's cries had been nothing more than a call for food, and Colin only embarrassed the wet nurse as he rushed into the room without warning. He turned his back and retreated quickly, pulling the door behind him. Then he leaned back against the door to catch his breath—slowly. To do otherwise—to extend his lungs fully at the bottom—only made his side ache.

He had refused further laudanum. He would need to keep his wits about him as they traveled—and that wasn't going to be easy with Lucy so near him in the carriage. She was already a distraction, the memory of her kisses never far from his mind.

He was about to return to Lucy's room when he heard heavy footsteps running up the stairs. Seth burst into the hallway.

“I heard . . .” He stopped abruptly when he saw Colin outside Jennie's door.

“He's hungry.”

“Ah! The carriage is ready, and Fletcher and Bobby are already aboard.” Seth looked carefully at Colin's face. “Aidan is settling up with the landlord. If you intend to set out today, you should slip into the carriage before he returns. Otherwise, he'll take one look at how pale you are and call for the militia to guard the child.”

“Pale?” Colin pushed himself away from the wall.

“You look so ill it calls to mind that poem Benjamin used to recite whenever we were lovesick.” Seth grinned. “
Why so pale and wan, fond lover, prithee why so pale
?”

“I remember.” Colin took his brother's arm to descend the stairs, then filled in the rest of the stanza. “
Will, when looking well can't move her, looking ill prevail? Prithee why so pale.
”

“Perhaps when you are well, your pretty nurse will discover what a dreadful ogre you are.” Seth supported Colin's weight to the bottom of the stairs. “And that will open the field to me.”

“Luckily for me, you won't be with us on the road to tempt her.” Colin dropped his brother's arm as they approached the door to the courtyard.

“On the excuse of the ladies, Fletcher has set out the stairs.” Seth opened the door wide. “If you think to fall as you go up, fall to the right—that direction is out of the view of the main tavern.”

Just three short steps. Colin told himself. Only three. Seth had already positioned himself to the right of the steps as a precaution.

“Can I offer you my hand, dear lady?” Seth gallantly held up his arm.

“Why, dear sir, how kind,” Colin replied in a falsetto, but he took Seth's outstretched arm and made his way up the stairs and into the carriage. Taking his position at the far door of the carriage, he lowered the window to take advantage of the breeze.