Miss Quinn's Quandary (2 page)

Randall rubbed his tormented hands together and gave a tolerant
sigh. Most men might take advantage of the situation. He settled back on the
settee and drew his booted feet away from the edge. Although sleep continued to
elude him, he thought it best to keep his thoughts away from Larissa.

If Larissa had been as shy as she claimed, she must have been
making a tremendous effort to change her natural ways. Indeed, Randall admired
her conviction and strength in trying to overcome what she considered a
weakness.

He pulled her cloak over his shoulder and snuggled it under his
chin. The blasted garment smelled of her. Yes, she acted naive. Randall had
heard the nervousness in her voice. Every now and then, he saw in her eyes
uncertainty, hesitation, and perhaps even a mote of fear.

If he had met her at a social gathering and been properly
introduced by a chaperone, perhaps he would have regarded her in a quite a
different light. But meeting her under these unfavorable circumstances
nullified any type of relationship. She was pretty, she was interesting, but
most of all, she was far too unpredictable for Randall’s tastes.

Regardless of her timid or bold nature, her sheltered or
unworldly upbringing, Larissa said whatever came to mind, indifferent of the consequences.
He knew this type of behavior could lead to nothing but trouble.

He tugged at the traveling cloak. It was growing devilishly hot
in here. He rested his head on the padded bolster and forced himself not to
look toward the bed.

This situation was impossible. He could not remain. Randall could
not stay the night in the same room with this young woman. He pulled himself up
into a sitting position, gathered his clothes, and rather than make excuses,
left without a word.

It wasn’t until Randall had settled into a chair in the dining
room that he realized he still had Larissa’s cloak. It was a reminder of why he
would remain here. He felt thankful that he had her cloak providing warmth for
there’d not be much rest for him this night.

The next morning brought the bustle of yard boys, vendors,
ostlers
, and travel-worn passengers eager to be on their
way. The commotion woke Randall. His eyelids were heavy and he rubbed his
whisker-
stubbled
chin. The mild scent of roses from
the cloak he held near his face reminded him of his circumstance and he thought
of Larissa. How had she fared alone in their room?

He eased out of his chair and climbed the stairs to look in on
her. He rapped softly on the door with his knuckle and waited. The door creaked
open; there in the dim morning light stood Larissa, washed, dressed, and ready
to leave.

“What time did you get up?” Randall croaked. His throat was dry
and he had a kink in his neck.

Larissa opened the door, allowing him to enter the room. “About
an hour ago, before the sun rose. I am accustomed to rising at that time.”

Randall groaned. He wasn’t used to getting up much before noon.

“I’ll go to the public dining room for some tea.”

“That’s a good idea.” He smiled. This would give him an
opportunity for his morning toilette without her underfoot. “I’ll join you
presently. Thank you for the use of your cloak.” He returned her garment.

Larissa slung it over her arm. “I thank you for indulging me.”
She took up her reticule and bandbox and left.

Randall helped Larissa into the coach and followed her in. She
settled in the window seat closest to the door on the left. Down the bench in
the farthest corner, a well-dressed man, who looked very out of place in a
public transport, reeked of stale spirits and lay limp against the inside of
the coach. On the opposite side, a rotund couple took up the entire bench.
Randall had no choice but to sit next to Larissa.

“Ah, Miss Quinn, lovely to see you again,” the plump woman
greeted. “Good morning.” She raised her hand to her round, flushing cheek. “I
suppose I should say, Mrs. Quinn—and to you also, Mr. Quinn.”

Mr. Quinn? Randall’s breath caught in his throat. Why had she
called him that?

With a nod, Mr. Briggs only grunted, echoing his wife’s
sentiments.

“This is Mr. and Mrs. Briggs. I met them as we traveled up the
Severn yesterday,” Larissa explained.

Randall touched the brim of his hat and nodded. He understood.
Mrs. Briggs had met Larissa Quinn yesterday and must have supposed that he,
being apparently married to her, must make him Mr. Quinn.

The courtyard horn sounded and the stagecoach lurched into
motion, pulling out of the inn yard and leaving behind the noises of the
throng. The wheels dropped into the well-rutted road and it took only a few
moments for the transport to gain its traveling pace. The coach fell into its
familiar rocking rhythm. The only sounds remaining were the jingling of
harnesses and the horses’ clipping hooves.

“It’s very strange.” Mrs. Briggs’ eyes narrowed, giving Randall a
rather lengthy inspection. “I don’t recall seeing your husband yesterday.”

“My poor darling. He was hanging over the railing the entire time,”
Larissa explained. “Water travel doesn’t agree with him.”

“A tragedy, Mr. Quinn,” Mrs. Briggs offered, in what she probably
considered a sympathetic tone.

“Thank you,” he said and offered a practiced, friendly smile. He
feared it was going be a long trip.

“Where is your maid, dear?” Mrs. Briggs had clasped her hands in
front of her, while her face reflected a multitude of concerns.

“I am without one,” Larissa said, giving a demure lowering of her
lashes. Her adorable mouth curved into an exquisite moue. “Mr. Quinn doesn’t
see me a fit lady.”

Randall gasped. Why on earth did she have to say that?

Mrs. Briggs puffed up, her hands tightened into two small, hard
fists. “An unfit lady? I’ll show you an unfit lady,
me’lord
!”
Her knuckles were turning white. “Why, Mrs. Quinn is the most—”

Randall nearly choked on his breath. “You misunderstand my … my …
my wife,” he stammered. “What she means to say is, at the moment we cannot
afford such an extravagance. We have just returned from our voyage and all. We
have not as of yet even settled into a home. We haven’t hired anyone.” He
flashed a smile, one he hoped would dissuade her from the violence he imagined
she might inflict were her anger unleashed.

Randall thought Mr. Briggs looked well cowed, a fate he would
wish to avoid at all costs. “Believe me, there is no one in the world like my
Larissa.” Which was the absolute truth. With an incline of his head, he brought
their heads together so they just touched in what he thought was a show of
affection.

“
Ain’t
that sweet?” Mrs. Briggs sighed.
“Now, don’t you two make a lovely couple?”

Randall rolled his eyes toward Larissa, who gave a silly smile in
return. One of adoration, he supposed. It was enough to silence Mrs. Briggs for
the moment.

Mr. Briggs finally succumbed to the motion of the vehicle and
dozed off. Randall watched Mrs. Briggs’ wandering eyes make a careful
inspection, first over Larissa, then over him.

“You haven’t said a word to one another since we’ve left,” she
said. Against Randall’s fervent hopes, Mrs. Briggs continued, “Have you had a
spat? Lover’s quarrel already?”

“We’ve hit a bit of a rough spot, you might say,” Randall said in
a confidential whisper to Mrs. Briggs and glanced back at Larissa, who to his
amazement remained silent.

“That’ll never do.” Mrs. Briggs moved to the edge of her seat,
closer to the couple. “If you don’t patch your quarrel now, you’re bound to end
up like me and the mister.” Their attention momentarily shifted to Mr. Briggs,
snoring away in the corner of the rocking coach. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.

Randall had to agree. One wouldn’t want to turn out like that. He
certainly didn’t.

“Please, Mr. Quinn, say you’re sorry and give your bride a kiss.”

Randall looked from Mrs. Briggs to Larissa, who both stared back
at him. He knew the type. Mrs. Briggs would never relent. He might as well
submit.

Randall looked to Larissa again. She batted her long, thick
lashes and gave a cherubic smile. Blast her, she was enjoying it all. He
murmured a halfhearted “Sorry,” and brushed his lips against her cheek.

“
Aggh
, no! That’s a kiss you give your
grandmother,” Mrs. Briggs scolded. “Look at her, man. She’s a beautiful girl!
She’s your wife! Mr. Quinn, give her a husbandly kiss.”

He glanced over to Larissa again. She still wore that inviting
smile. Randall saw her wink, goading him. He decided Larissa could use a sound
kissing. Now he had his chance to shock some sensibility into her. At the same
time, he’d certainly give Mrs. Briggs an eyeful and good cause to cease her
meddling ways.

“You don’t want to spend another minute in anger. Go on, Mr.
Quinn.”

All in full view of Mrs. Briggs, who sat front row center,
Randall took action. He drew Larissa to him and gazed into her green eyes and
uttered, “My darling, I’m terribly sorry for any discomfort I have caused you.
You were right and I was wrong.” That would about cover the apology gamut.

Randall descended, covering Larissa’s soft lips with his own. The
same sweet scent that lingered on Larissa’s cloak keeping him warm the night
before rushed through his head.

With a shriek, Mrs. Briggs’ eyes bugged out in shock at the
public display.

Randall ended the kiss and gave his solemn vow, “Dear heart,
henceforth I shall do my utmost never to quarrel with you again.”

With a final cry, Mrs. Briggs rolled her eyes toward the heavens.
A bout of the vapors overcame her and she fell into a heap against the
cushions.

Satisfied with the reaction, Randall settled the limp Larissa
back into her seat. She sat without saying a word, without the slightest
movement and with her eyes wide as saucers.

Randall was quite pleased with the results. That would show the
pair of them. He snugged his hat low on his forehead and spent the remainder of
his trip in relative peace and quiet. Only the snores of Mrs. Briggs could be
heard drowning out the wheezing of Mr. Briggs.

Sleep came easily for Randall after conversation in the coach
ceased. But he soon woke to the pungent scent of roses and a weight leaning on
his right arm. He forced his eyes open only to notice a slumbering Larissa snug
and comfortable, holding his arm firmly with both hands. Her leg pressed
tightly against his and her angelic face tilted upward.

A quick glance around told Randall the passengers all slept.
“Miss Quinn,” he whispered. “Miss Quinn, wake up.” He took a second look to see
if he had disturbed anyone. He moved his shoulder, trying to rouse her with no
success. He did manage to stir her, only to have her wrap her hands more
tightly about his arm and snuggle closer to him.

Some hours later when Larissa awoke, she straightened from her
semi-reclining position against the side of the coach and looked around. The
nameless man in the corner still slept. Mr. and Mrs. Briggs across from her
took turns punctuating the silence with their snores.

Larissa allowed herself to stare at the dozing Sir Randall. His
head was tipped back and delicately balanced as he slept. Even after hours of
travel, his dark, curly hair was still sculpted to perfection. His fingers were
locked onto the brim of his hat, which rested on his lap, and his legs were
crossed at the ankles, resting between Mr. and Mrs. Briggs.

Although she had not seen many men up close, she knew he certainly
must be one of the most handsome. The memory of Sir Randall’s kiss was fresh in
her mind. While she slept, she had replayed the moment over and over in her
dreams, feeling the strong hold of his arms as he drew her down to his lap, the
taut muscles of his thighs hard against her back and the spreading warmth in
the places where their bodies touched.

So that was what it felt like to be kissed by a man. It was
magnificent.

The thought alone sent the blood coursing through her. She had
felt both frightened and exhilarated. Never had she felt
so
alive as at the moment his well-formed lips pressed against hers. She began to
feel dizzy, whether from remembered sensation or lack of air she wasn’t sure.
He had borne down on her, pressing her into his lap.

The stagecoach drew to a halt at the White Horse Inn and the
passengers disembarked. Mrs. Briggs did not wait for Mr. Briggs, but made a
quick escape from the confines of the coach. Not to stretch her legs, but to
escape the company of the pervert Mr. Quinn.

A smug smile crossed Randall’s face. The more he thought about
the incident, the less shocking he thought it, and the more he enjoyed it. He
knew Mrs. Briggs would never, ever speak to him again. That alone brought about
the greatest satisfaction he could have imagined.

Randall followed Mr. Briggs and reached in for Larissa to help
her down. “My dear.”

“Thank you, Sir Randall,” she murmured, taking his proffered
hand. Her eyes did not meet his and he noticed the heightened color on her
face. In his high humor, he had not considered her innocence.

In the dark interior of the coach Randall caught the movement of
the remaining passenger and an unexplained flash. Was it a reflection of some
type? Whoever the man was, he had slept the entire way and not made a sound.
But who could have heard any conversation over the resonant snores of the
Briggs?

Randall tucked Larissa’s hand in the crook of his arm, escorting
her inside.

“Two rooms, please,” he said to the innkeeper. Randall scrawled
in the register. He did not say whether this girl on his arm was his sister,
wife, or paramour. Nor did the innkeeper ask. Randall had no intention of
perpetuating the marriage lie they had so thoughtlessly originated.

“Betty!” the innkeeper shouted. “Take Mr. Trent and,” he squinted
at the following line in the book, “the lady up to their rooms.”

Betty, a young servant clad in near rags, darted out from the
next room. “This way, your lordship.” She dipped curtsy and led Randall and
Larissa to their rooms on the second floor.

Betty swung open one door. “I ‘
ope
you’ll be
likin
’ this room, ma’am.”

Larissa stepped inside, nodded in approval and thanked her
softly. Betty passed by Randall and opened another door.

“This is your room, your lordship.”

A quick inspection told him the bed was not large, but clean
enough. He would welcome a good night’s sleep after spending the previous night
at a table, resting against a wall.

“Will that be all, your lordship?”

“We will want to supper in our rooms.”

“Right away, your lordship.” Betty bobbed a curtsy and dashed
down the hall.

Randall stood in the doorway feeling torn as to whether he should
check to see if Larissa was properly settled, or respect her privacy. The
decision was instantaneously made for him by the arrival of the innkeeper
followed by a well-dressed man.

The innkeeper opened the door to the room on the other side of
Randall’s. For the briefest of moments, the well-dressed man’s searching gaze
met Randall’s. In the dim light, he saw the reflection of the gold-capped front
tooth from the man’s wide grin.

Randall stepped into his room and closed the door. That man.
Certainly it was the same man from the coach. He made Randall feel exceedingly
uncomfortable. That gold tooth blinked like an all-seeing, all-knowing eye. He
knew the man could not have known what took place in the coach. The man’s
liquored state had seen to that, hadn’t it? The man could only have recognized
him as someone who had disembarked from the coach.

Randall stretched out on the bed and draped his arm over his
tired eyes. From now on, he would mind his own business and he hoped everyone
else would do the same.

The latch made a soft click when Larissa closed the door. She
laid her bandbox on the bed and removed her bonnet before opening her reticule
and pulling out the letter from Aunt Ivy. Her eyes scanned the shaky scrawl.
Her aunt must be quite old. The phrases that stood out were “you can help fill
my days,” “it has been so long since I have had promise of such delightful
company,” and “a companion to stead me through my declining years.”

It didn’t sound promising. Perhaps growing up in the confines of
the seminary had prepared her for the rigorous days ahead. How sweet dear Aunt
Ivy had been to offer her a place to live. Larissa was grateful. She would do
what she could to make an old woman’s last
years
comfortable. Larissa had little medical experience to draw from. Small burns,
cuts, and wounds she could manage, but caring for the infirm and aged, she
thought, might be beyond her.

Larissa realized she might have to face those years without
making any acquaintances of another man, but not without a memory. She had
memories that would last Sir Randall and his—their kiss. She could dream of him
night after night. Not that she had much choice, for he had made his imprint on
her mind. He was the first thought she had when she awoke, and the last
lingering image before she fell asleep. How could she ever forget him?

Randall’s room overlooked the inn’s courtyard. He watched Mr. and
Mrs. Briggs step into another transport several hours later. Who knew when the
other man would leave? That man was of no concern; he had been asleep and had
heard nothing.

He could look forward to leaving Mrs. Briggs, the man with the
gold tooth, and Miss Larissa Quinn behind. After tonight, he would never give
the lot of them another thought. Tomorrow, life would return to normal.

He’d stay out of the public dining room. He’d asked for a supper
of meat pies, vegetables, and two tankards of porter to be brought up for
dinner. Randall removed a tankard and a pie for himself and would deliver the
second plate next door to Larissa.

Thinking of that man with a golden tooth caused Randall to pause
in his room with his hand motionless on the door latch. He shrugged the thought
aside, opened the door, and stepped into the hall. A quick glance around the
empty corridor made him feel more at ease. When he rapped on Larissa’s door,
she was quick to answer and he was equally as quick to step inside.

Larissa’s room smelled fresh, but not from her refreshing
presence, as Randall first thought. She had opened the window, allowing the air
to circulate.

“I’ve brought you supper, Miss Quinn.” Randall set the tray on
the table. “I think it best if we avoid the public dining room.”

“I’m sure you know best in these matters. Thank you.” She kept a
respectable distance between them.

Randall had not realized how much of a schoolgirl she was,
especially with her hair let down. How could she have changed from the teasing
chit in the coach who taunted him into kissing her to this innocent?

“I’ll be leaving at dawn,” he added. “You’ll be safe if you stay
in your room until it’s time to board your transport.” Why did he continue to
feel responsible for her?

“I thank you for your concern,” she said in not much more than a
whisper. She hugged her book tightly to her chest.

Was she frightened of him? Did she think he would do what he did
on the coach? Or worse, perhaps? He wanted to reassure her that he had no such
intention. Then, just as quickly, he changed his mind, thinking it was not
necessary. It was best he leave.

Randall opened the door, then turned back to Larissa. Her green
eyes stared up at him.

“In the future, I think it best if you ask who is on the other
side of the door before allowing them in.” A smile washed over his face. One he
hoped would relay warmth and kindness. Opening the door, Randall’s first
glimpse outside the room was the flash of gold. He hurried to his room and
closed the door behind him. He could not fathom why he found that man so
disturbing.

A few hours later, Randall lay awake staring at the wall. He knew
that just on the other side of that wall lay Larissa.

The sole niggling regret he had experienced upon the
accomplishment of his minor indiscretion now blossomed into a tumult of doubt
and self-recrimination. Guilt racked his brain, leaving him unable to sleep.
Now he felt certain that the instant when their lips met, it had been the first
time she had been kissed. He was leading an innocent astray.

That was likely why he couldn’t get her off his mind. He felt
guilty. It was no wonder he tossed in bed. He would never see Larissa again and
his conscience would not let him rest. He would have to make amends for his
actions while he had the chance.

Randall ignored the lateness of the hour, drew on his trousers and
slipped into his shirt. In bare feet, he tiptoed out his door to Larissa’s
room.

He knocked softly while drawing one of his braces onto his
shoulder.

“Who is it?” came her answer.

“It’s me, Randall, of course,” he replied. A smile lit on his
lips knowing she had taken his suggestion and was showing some caution.

The door slid open, revealing Larissa’s eye and a corner of her
mouth. He shot quick glances down either side of the hallway looking for any
sign of observers.

“Quick, let me in,” he urged. With that he pushed the door open
and stepped inside. But not before someone rounded the far corner of the
hallway. Before Randall could close the door, he saw the glimmer of gold as the
man gave a lewd smile and winked at him.

In the absence of a wrapper, Larissa had thrown on her green
traveling cloak to admit Sir Randall into her room. He swept in and latched the
door behind him.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at this hour,” he said, more concerned
with the man in the hallway than the woman in the room.

Larissa was glad, even excited, to see him. Especially in this
state of undress. Bootless, no less. She actually preferred Sir Randall this
way. He was less stuffy, less arrogant, less covered. He was all she dreamed of
last night and all she wished for today. It pleased her to see how well she had
remembered the planes of his face and the angle of his jaw, the arch of his
dark
brow
and the gentle intensity in his eyes.

“There’s something I need to say.” He didn’t even look at her.
Was she all that dreadful in her green traveling cloak? “What I did in the
coach. When … I … kissed you.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Well, I only
want to apologize. I’m frightfully sorry.” He sounded remorseful. “It was very
heartless of me to do such a thing.”

It was the single most exciting thing in her dreary life. How
could he say he was sorry?

“I wouldn’t blame you if you thought ill of me.” Her gaze
followed his thumb as it ran under his brace from his shoulder along his
well-formed chest to the waistband of his
inexpressibles
.

“I told you, Sir Randall. I am a very good judge of character.
You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Larissa admitted, “I, too, have regrets
about my actions.”

“Ah, yes,” he sighed and finally met her eyes. “The ‘
We’re
married! Give us the last room’ incident.”

“If you hadn’t flirted so shamelessly on the ship, I would never
have suggested it.”

“Shameless flirting?” A confused look crossed his face. He had
tipped his hat and wished her a good day. “I was merely being polite.”

“Well, when one comes from a ladies’ seminary, one isn’t
accustomed to such behavior from a gentleman.”

Randall felt the same unsettled confusion as when he spoke with
his Uncle Cyrus. “Coming from a ladies’ seminary, one wouldn’t be accustomed to
men at all.”

“My point exactly.” Larissa punctuated her statement with the nod
of her head.

It was like speaking to his Uncle Cyrus. It was best just to end
the discussion. He had apologized, and it seemed to him no harm was done. “Good
night, Miss Quinn, and goodbye.” With as formal a bow as one could perform in
one’s shirtsleeves and stocking feet, he left.

Larissa watched Sir Randall make his retreat. With a distinct
click of the door handle, he was gone. She removed her cloak, dropped it onto
the bed and crawled under the covers.

She would remember him for as long as she lived. She would dream
about him in the dreary days, months, and years that followed. Perhaps she even
loved him, just a little, for he was the first man to kiss her. It was a moment
she would hold in her heart forever.

She had hoped he had come to kiss her goodbye. It was far more
than she could wish. It was more likely she would never lay her eyes or her
lips upon him again.