Stealing the Bride (10 page)

Diana shuddered. Oh dear, what had she done?

She knew exactly what she’d done. Used gold to entice a man into helping her and then led him to his death.

Still, could it have been as Temple said, that the viscount had been using her as well? She didn’t believe for a minute that French agents killed the viscount. In all likelihood the man met his fate from cheating at cards.

And what of Mrs. Foston? Diana prayed her dear companion was well and safe. Though, knowing the lady and her indomitable spirit, the villains who’d attacked her were probably still licking their wounds.

It was odd not to look across the carriage and see her frowning visage, and it was a contingency that Mrs. Foston had feared—that they would become separated. Diana could only hope that Letty wouldn’t make good her threat and now return to London…and to Diana’s father with a full accounting of their plans.

Wiping her hair out of her eyes, she blinked a couple of times and then focused on her surroundings, setting aside the suspicions that had haunted her ever since Temple had claimed they were being chased by French agents.

A ridiculous notion, that…

She blinked again, and this time the sight of a basket on the floor caught her eye. Leaning over, she pulled back the cloth covering it, only to find within a sturdy loaf, slices of cheese, and a flagon of…She tugged the cork free and sniffed.

Tea.

Diana sighed. Her clamoring guilt over Cordell’s fate subsided in the wake of the growling from her even noisier stomach.

Besides, as her father always said, there was nothing that couldn’t be pondered with better clarity on a full stomach.

Though she didn’t know whom she had to thank for this bounty, Temple or Elton, right now she could kiss them both as she dove happily into her first meal in what seemed like ages.

While Miss Emery would be appalled at her manners, Diana tore off a hunk of bread and stuffed it, along with a large piece of cheese, into her mouth.

Overhead, she could hear Temple and Elton talking, their words drifting like manna to her curious ears, as welcome as the thick slices of bread were to her complaining stomach.

“Why not go back to London?” Elton was saying. “I could slip into Geddington and find her Mrs. Foston. I know of a road that is hardly ever used.”

Diana smiled. She’d always liked Elton

“No, London will be the first place they look for her,” Temple said. “She’s not safe until we learn
why
they want her.”

She sighed. Why did any man want her?
Her dowry
. Cordell had probably wagered all of it, so it was no wonder his fellow gamesters had set out after them. It made much more sense than Temple’s suggestion of some evil foreign plot.

“Pymm might be able to help,” Elton suggested.

“I have a feeling Pymm would know more about this than he’d ever let on.” Temple blew out a loud breath.

Biting into another piece of bread, Diana glanced up at the roof of the berline and frowned. Oh, the last person she wanted sticking his nose into her plans for Temple was Mr. Pymm. Not that it wouldn’t surprise her to see her father’s old friend offering his assistance. Pymm loved to meddle.

She could well imagine what advice he’d give Temple.

“Harrumph,” she snorted between bites of bread. Pymm’s involvement would only make the task ahead that much more difficult.

“If you want to be rid of the gel, why not marry her off to Pins or Needles? You could wash your hands of her right smart. Let one of them fend off these blokes.”

Diana nearly choked. What was Elton doing suggesting such a stupid notion? The last thing she needed was another person urging Temple not to marry her.

She’d have to set his driver straight the first chance she got.

Of course, there was one large problem with Elton’s course of action. They’d have to drag her kicking and screaming to the altar before she’d ever marry Penham or Nettlestone.

Temple had been right the night before. Lord Harry was too young for her. That, and the idea of living with Lady Staverly for the rest of the dowager’s natural days, was enough to send any woman begging for sanctuary from the nearest convent.

As for Lord Nettlesome, besides the fact that he was just that—nettlesome—she didn’t care to spend her life with a husband who looked her directly in her breasts. The least she wanted in a groom was a man she could look up to, literally, that was.

No, Elton’s plan lacked one essential element: a willing bride. Besides the fact that neither Temple, Penham, nor Nettlestone had the necessary funds to obtain a special license, a hasty marriage was a moot issue.

Lost in her own musings, she now strained to hear what Temple was saying to Elton’s suggestion, but they hit a rough patch of road, and from the clattering of the berline and the bouncing track, she couldn’t hear a thing until the last of his words.

“—then I’ll be well and done with this.”

Well and done, how?

“Oh, botheration,” she muttered, shivering from nothing that had to do with the temperature outside, rather the cold, uncertain fate awaiting her. She tugged the blanket more tightly around her, then looked down and realized she still wore nothing but her chemise.

The same chemise she’d donned with the foolish hope of seducing Temple.

Had it been just last night that he’d kissed her? Just a few hours since she’d heard him come stealing into her room, and she’d thought that finally, just finally, he’d come to his senses.

Oh, drat it all. She’d turned what had seemed such a brilliant plan back in London into a wretched muddle.

Still, she wasn’t under the hatches yet. She had Temple’s kiss to her credit. A passionate, heart-stopping moment that held more promise than she could have hoped for in years.

Now all she had to do was find a way to convince Temple that one kiss wasn’t enough—for either of them.

And never would be.

T
hey arrived in the bustling town of Nottingham late in the evening. Their progress had slowed considerably as they neared the town because the roads were clogged with farmers’ wagons and carts. Apparently the town was hosting a large market the next morning and was filled with merchants and their customers.

This, Temple explained to Diana, was best under the circumstances. They could take rooms at some nondescript inn and leave at first light without drawing much notice.

Yet finding lodging turned out to be more difficult than they thought. The town was bursting with visitors, and all the inns were full.

Diana looked out the window and frowned as he came back from yet another lodging house that hadn’t a spare bed to be let.

“Tell them who you are,” Diana said, tired, dirty, and ready for a good meal and a well-drawn bath. “If that doesn’t work, tell them who
I
am.”

He shook his head. “I can’t do that. I don’t want anyone to know we’ve come this way.”

Diana groaned. “Not that nonsense again about French agents, Temple? It wasn’t that good of a story last night, and since I know for certain you are well and sober now, I’m starting to fear your hinges are coming loose.” She glanced back at the comfortable looking inn with the enticing scent of roasting beef wafting across the yard. “Why don’t we just go out to Harwith House? I went to school with Lady Harwith, and I am sure she and the earl would be more than willing to offer us an entire suite of rooms.”

Temple folded his arms over his chest. “No. I don’t want anyone to know we are here.” He climbed in beside her and gave Elton the orders to continue to another establishment. “And my hinges are in perfect working order, thank you. You, on the other hand, would do well to believe me. You are in danger. Mortal danger.”

She snorted. “From French agents?”

“Yes,” he said.

If he wanted to continue this charade that he was indeed rescuing her from some terrible fate, so be it. Diana smiled indulgently at him.

His brow furrowed into a deep line as he crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t shaved, and his coat was dusty from riding up with Elton. That this rumpled, disreputable rake had replaced that fussy popinjay she hated so wholeheartedly only made her grin that much more.

She couldn’t imagine Temple looking more handsome than he did at this moment.

“I don’t see that there is anything to smile about,” he said, sticking his scuffed up boots out in front of him.

“You wouldn’t, but if you are correct and I’m wanted by agents of Napoleon, that means I must be infamous.” She paused for a second, letting a wicked gleam glow in her mischievous gaze. “Do you think I’m a danger to my country?”

“You’re a danger, all right,” he muttered.

She laughed aloud. “If you feel you need to persist in this charade, be my guest. As I said before, all you had to do was ask and I’d…” The carriage hit a hole in the road, jolting her mouth shut before she once again confessed her true feelings.

…I’d follow you anywhere.

Temple didn’t know what was worse, her blithe refusal to believe they were running for their lives, or her unflagging confidence that he was going to come to his senses and declare his heart.

Declare his heart, indeed! If anyone should know he didn’t possess one, it was Diana. Yet she still persisted. Clung to her faith in him. Faith he’d hardly earned and, more importantly, didn’t deserve.

She was a vexing mix of contradictions. Innocence and tenacity. Bold manners and soft glances.

Somehow during the course of the day, she’d managed to change into a green muslin gown and dress her hair in a simple braided coronet. At one of their stops, she’d picked a small nosegay of wild roses, which sat in her hands bound in a green ribbon she’d probably foraged from her bag. A hint of sun kissed her cheeks and nose, compliments of the afternoon she’d spent riding atop with Elton—a great lark she’d begged to be indulged in and Temple only too willingly allowed, if only to avoid listening to any more passages read aloud from the erudite Billingsworth.

Let Elton listen to the history of England. The last thing Temple needed was to be cooped up with Diana. Even reading from her boring book, she was a tempting minx.

A temptation he needed to avoid.

Oh, she might consider this all a great lark, but the world he lived in had no place for someone like Diana.

Someone who believed that love could conquer any hardship.

Didn’t she know how that very perilous emotion was what caused a fair share of the troubles in the world?

No, to look at her now, sitting across from him looking like a perfect example of what was good and innocent in English womanhood, one might be tempted to believe in poetry and the joy of love.

Rather than consider that road to misery, he deliberately turned his thoughts to more pressing matters. Like what the French would want with her.

Perhaps she was right and his hinges were coming loose.

Cordell dead in a meadow at the hand of one of Bonaparte’s top agents?

It made no sense.

And the other part of the night, something one of the men had asked Cordell, stuck out as odd.

Is she untouched? Does she remain a virgin?

He suspected Diana was still a virgin, but where had she learned to kiss like that? Her lips had left him breathless with their passionate, fiery blaze, the kind of kiss that marked a man’s memory forever.

He glanced over at her. Who the hell else had she been kissing? He shifted in his seat, and when she glanced up at him, one brow arching like a question mark, he frowned again and wrenched his gaze out the window to the busy streets.

What the devil did he care if Diana was kissing other men? Her indiscretions were the least of his concerns. She could kiss half the
ton
, and a good measure of Napoleon’s court for that matter, and he wouldn’t care.

Oh, but he did
.

Temple held back a desperate groan. Truly, this was all Colin’s fault. Him and his theories about
tendres
.

Tendres
indeed! He was merely a man assigned to do a job. Find the lady and return her to her father. Then he’d urge Lord Lamden to see his wayward daughter locked up in a convent with twelve-foot walls.

Safe from harm. Safe from causing any more damage to his already failing, fallible heart.

How was it that he’d faced countless enemies, stared death in the face, but no one had ever shaken his faith, had the power to upend him like Diana?

He knew the answer only too well. Because Diana was the only woman he’d ever met who touched his heart with just the merest glance of her fair blue eyes. She conquered his heart in a way that left him defenseless to common sense and good reason.

No, to fall prey to Diana would tumble the walls of his carefully constructed world.

What was it Elton had said?

…marry her off to Pins or Needles. You could wash your hands of her right smart.

And he had just the piece of paper that would see the job done in no time.

Pymm’s special license.

Yes, that would be the perfect solution. Temple could marry Diana off to Penham or Nettlestone and then let that fool deal with her headstrong ways and deceptive wiles.

Yes, that solution buoyed his spirits immensely.

Yet as he turned to shoot a triumphant glance in her direction, he didn’t see a simply dressed woman who needed to be packed off and gotten rid off. No, all he could see as he looked across the interior of the carriage was the soft glow of her skin, the pink of her lips, the swell of her breasts.

Memories of her kiss from the night before flooded his thoughts, sent his blood pounding southward.

No. No. No
, he told himself. Don’t give in to temptation. But he knew damned well she could steal his soul with her kisses. So that meant all he had to do was to avoid kissing her. That shouldn’t be so hard.

Then he’d marry her off. Let that man be branded by her lips, revel in her passions, explore every inch of her lithesome, delectable form until…

Temple shuddered.
Demmit, that wouldn’t do at all.

This entire muddle was enough to drive a man to…to…He didn’t want to think what he would do.

Should do. Wanted so much to do
.

Closing his eyes, Temple feigned sleep. Blessed, peaceful sleep. Only there he knew he’d find her invading his dreams, his hopes of solitude. He let out an exasperated sigh.

“Are you well, Temple?” Diana asked.

“Fine, perfectly well, never been better,” he grumbled, shying a glance in her direction.

The cheeky minx had the nerve to grin triumphantly at him. Well, that did it. So she thought she could get the better of him? Not so.

He’d plucked her affections from his heart once, he could do so again. Marrying her off to Penham or Nettlestone would certainly settle the matter, once and for all.

Yes, he’d even offer to give her away. If only to convince himself that she was truly gone from his life.

Elton turned the horses into the yard of a small inn already crowded with carts and people. Temple didn’t hold out much hope of their finding a room, but in a few moments Elton returned with a bit of good news.

“They’ve got one room, but it’s expensive,” Elton told Temple. “Ten quid.”

“For a room?” Temple whistled at the exorbitant amount. If not for the rush for lodgings, the chamber probably went for naught but a few shillings.

“I don’t care if it’s beneath a manure pile,” Diana said, “I intend to take this boon.” She started to push Temple aside in an attempt to get out, but he held her fast.

“I haven’t the money for it,” Temple told her.

“Yes, but I do,” she shot back, holding up her reticule and giving it a good shake to prove her point.

The jangle even widened Elton’s eyes, and if Temple knew his driver, the man probably knew the amount the purse held down to the last Brown.

As much as it went against his grain to take her offering, what choice did they have? The horses needed rest.

How the devil was he ever going to repay her? Perhaps he should find out how much gold Marden was offering for her.

He might well need every coin the Frenchman was willing to exchange just to keep her in lodgings. Then again, Temple thought with a smile, he’d send the entire bill to Pymm.

Let the old curmudgeon pay for this errand of mercy.

“Fine, you can pay tonight,” he told her, “but just remember our story. I am a wool merchant and you are my sister. We are traveling from Norwich to visit our sick mother in Manchester. Be discreet and circumspect as much as possible and try not to draw undue attention to yourself.”

Diana nodded like an obedient schoolgirl, then proceeded to elbow him aside in a scramble to get out of the carriage.

To his ever-growing chagrin, she immediately set to work ignoring everything he’d just said.

“You there,” she called out to one of the boys lolling about the yard. Reaching into her reticule, she drew out a gold coin. The glitter of such a princely sum attracted the boy to her side in a flash.

“Please see that my bag is taken to my room,” she said to him. “And if there is a tub of hot water up there before the hour, that knavish-looking gentleman over there will give you another of these for your troubles.”

Temple nearly choked. A guinea just for bringing up water? With that sort of largesse she’d attract the attention of every urchin and beggar within twenty miles. Worse yet, she wasn’t tossing just her money around, but his as well.

And he had naught but a bag of nails and a few spare shillings.

“I’ll have it done in half the time, milady,” the boy said, a wide grin spilling across his freckled features.

She smiled over her shoulder at Temple and sailed into the inn with all the regal bearing her forebears were entitled to claim.

“Some merchant’s sister,” Elton huffed. “Next she’ll be ordering up oranges and duck for supper, and expecting you to pay for all of it.”

By the time he recovered his outraged wits, she’d disappeared inside. Temple went after her, but found she’d wreaked a swatch of havoc in her wake wider than Napoleon could have, backed by his entire army.

If Pymm thought the paperwork on Temple’s little ventures in Paris the previous winter had been difficult to report, what he was about to do to Lady Diana Fordham would take a Covent Garden scribe ten years to compose a suitable fiction that wouldn’t see them both dancing at Tyburn.

The previously indifferent innkeeper came bustling forward. “Lord Hood, my apologies for not coming out personally.”

Temple looked over his shoulder to see if the man was talking to someone else. But the innkeeper had his greedy gaze fixed only on him.

Lord Hood? When had they agreed he’d have a new name and title?

“Her ladyship requested that you be seated and have a drink down here while she takes a few moments to refresh herself.” He held out a chair at a wide, empty table near the window. “By chance I have a bottle of St. Laurent in my cellar.”

St. Laurent?
How did the minx know that was his favorite wine?

Elton. He should never have let her ride up with him, though at the time it had seemed a good idea. She’d probably used those hours to wheedle and ply every secret Temple held dear out of his servant.

The innkeeper was still holding out the chair for him, into which he gratefully dropped. The man hurried away, only to return a few minutes later with a dusty bottle and a large glass. “Here you go, milord. A nice year, this. Hard to come by, iffin you know what I mean.” The man leaned forward. “Could we call it a favor amongst gentlemen iffin we don’t mention this particular vintage to the sheriff? He’s right particular about Frog goods.”

“Am I to suppose that would be the Sheriff of Nottingham?” Temple said with a bemused chuckle.

The innkeeper didn’t look at all amused, rather he lowered his voice in an awed whisper. “Oh, aye. And he takes his job quite seriously, he does. Considers it his duty to the good name of Nottingham.”