Company Of Rogues: A Shocking Delight Part 34

The first part of the plan went off perfectly. A glossy town carriage arrived at the door. The trunk and boxes were loaded into the boot. Hannah entered the carriage and Lucy took a fond farewell of her aunt and cousin.

It wasn't long, however, before Hannah said, "Are we going the right way, miss? And why isn't Sam Travers driving?"

Lucy ignored the second part. "We're stopping at a friend's house first." But she soon saw there was nothing for it. "I'm not going home, Hannah. I'm going to Devon."

The maid's hand went to her chest. "Never say you're eloping!"

"Of course not. But I have need to visit Devon and my friends are going to take me there."

"It's that Lord Wyvern, isn't it? I knew he was up to no good, sneaking you off into the trees and kissing you there. I could see, never mind the tree trunks. And I heard tell you went off with him at the theater the other night. Oh, Miss Lucy, what are you up to?"

"Hush, Hannah. Nothing terrible, I promise. I'm traveling with Mr. and Mrs. Delaney and their children." Children made everything seem more respectable. "I simply need to see where Lord Wyvern lives before I can make a decision."

"But there's proper ways to do that, miss. Not sneaking away like this."

"Not without it seeming as if I'm committed. I want to make a free choice."

"Better to choose another, I say. Everyone mutters that he has bad blood."

"That's why I have to see for myself. You won't expose me, will you, Hannah?"

The maid rolled her eyes. "I should, and there's no mistake. I should tell your father right off. But I'll come with you."

"I'm afraid that's not possible. There'll be no room in the carriage."

"Then what am I to do?"

"I thought you could stay at the Delaneys' house for the next few days." Then Lucy was inspired. "Or perhaps you'd like a holiday?"

"Well, I never . . . ! Not but what I wouldn't mind visiting my sister, who's married to a Kentish man, out Erith way."

"Perfect," Lucy said with a sigh of relief. "We'll arrange your travel there and I'll let you know when I'll be back so we can arrive home with none the wiser."

"I'm not sure I'm doing the right thing, miss."

"You are. I promise."

Hannah looked skeptical about that, and no wonder. "And I doubt I'll be able to keep it to myself forever. I'm not a one for lying."

"I don't need you to lie. By the time we go to the wedding, it won't matter if people know."

"If you say so, miss, but I doubt your father will be pleased."

"He'll be too involved in his own affairs to pay much attention," Lucy said, praying that be true. "And you mustn't worry about your future. Whatever happens, I'll make sure you're taken care of."

Lucy was on the road by noon, bridges burned, die cast, hurtling along the toll road to Exeter at alarming speed in a light post chaise pulled by six horses.

They drove all day with only the shortest breaks to change horses and get refreshment. There was little conversation, for Nicholas was no chatterer and Lucy wasn't sure what to say. She might like to debate her situation and actions, but what was the point when she had no intention of turning back? She would definitely like to tease out secret information, but that would never work.

He'd brought books and offered her one. It was about the exploration of Australia, and she wondered if it had some special meaning. David's mother had gone to Botany Bay in pursuit of the man he'd thought his father for most of his life.

He'd claimed to have no feelings for them, but could that be true?

True or not, she couldn't settle to the book. Nor could she make plans or think logically about her situation, for love seemed to blank all reason from her mind. She was going to him. She would see him. Once they were together again the knots would untangle, the barriers would drop.

Nothing could withstand the force in her and in him.

They reached the Crown in Shaftesbury as the light was going and rain beginning. They decided not to attempt to travel through the night, but they rose with the sun at five in the morning to eat a hasty breakfast and hurtle on to Honiton. There they hired a gig to take them closer to the coast. After that would come pillion riding, which she didn't look forward to at all.

Their valises were put into the st.u.r.dy gig and Nicholas took the reins to drive them south toward the sea.

"You were right about the road," Lucy said as they swayed and jolted over the poorly maintained surface. "How far now?"

"About eight miles, so two hours or so if we're lucky."

She wished she could demand greater speed, but even insane love wasn't mad enough for that. The st.u.r.dy horse's steady pace was the only way, and even so it was a b.u.mpy ride.

She tried to admire the countryside, but she couldn't help but notice how spa.r.s.ely populated it seemed. Fields were under crops or grazed by animals, so it wasn't wild, but the villages were scattered, and the ones they pa.s.sed through were small. The inhabitants watched them, as if strangers were a rarity.

It was a relief when Nicholas turned the gig into an inn yard in a small town, until he said, "We'll fare better on horseback from here."

Lucy rubbed her backside. "After the last mile or so, that might be a relief."

"This is riding country. Or boat. In fair weather, it's often easiest to go by sea from place to place along the coast."

"I've never traveled by boat unless a Thames wherry counts. I remember often wishing I were setting out on a merchantman headed for the Orient."

"And now?"

"I think adventure is greatly overrated. I'm not sure I can do this."

"Ride pillion the mile and a half to Crag Wyvern?"

"Commit to a life here. I see people, I see houses, I even see pretty gardens, but deep inside I think this is a savage wasteland."

"I've ventured to savage wastelands," he said unsympathetically, "and you are far off the mark. Come, let's progress to the dreadful end."

A hostler was leading out a horse fitted with a pillion saddle. Lucy eyed it resentfully, in part because she'd never ridden, not even pillion, but also because Nicholas was making light of her fears. It was not silly to be alarmed by the prospect of making a life in such a different place. Perhaps he'd been to Borneo, Hindustan, or the wilds of Canada, but she hadn't.

He was checking the various straps and fittings, but turned to look at her. "What has you smiling?"

"Have you ever paddled a canoe down a river in Canada?"

His brows went up, but he said, "Yes."

"Fleeing Indians?"

"With Indians, fleeing Americans. Why?"

"I'm simply appreciating how reality and fantasy sometimes mingle."

He didn't enquire further, but strapped their bags behind the pillion. The poor beast was beginning to look like a packhorse.

He mounted. "Ready?"

The hostler stood by to give her a hand up the mounting block, so she climbed up and settled in the seat. Once there, and with her right arm around Nicholas, she felt reasonably safe, but as they set off, she wished the horse didn't sway with each step.

"Don't go too fast, please."

He laughed. "Walking pace all the way. You could have ridden on your own."

She shuddered. "I don't think so. How far did you say?"

"A mile and a half or so."

Not far at all in London, but it felt like a great distance on this rough terrain. The road was no more than a cart track, and the hedges close enough to almost brush her skirts as they pa.s.sed. When a trailing bramble caught her skirt for a moment, she gave thanks she'd been sensible and worn her brown traveling gown. She'd been tempted to try to arrive in finery, but she'd had sense enough to resist that madness at least.

Soon she'd arrive and discover the truth.

What if David was suffering an insane fit?

What did she do then?

She had to ask. "Are the earls of Wyvern mad?"

"The previous one was unbalanced, at the least," Nicholas said.

"I saw a picture of the torture chamber, and read of one who rode off a cliff."

"He could merely have been drunk."

"What of the countess who threw herself from the battlements?"

"Crag Wyvern could do that to a person."

"That isn't a joking matter!"

"Wait and see, Lucy. Not long now. To our left, beyond that hill, you can glimpse the sea."

It was a glimmer like polished silver that she might have missed. When the path turned, it disappeared from view.

"It looked cold."

"It frequently is, but the Channel is tamer than the Atlantic. You could have fallen in love with a Cornishman."

"You sneer at everything."

"I never sneer at love. It's too important. I simply stated a fact. Or do you feel you had control over whom you loved?"

"Did you?"

"No."

"But everything was straightforward for you."

She felt his laughter. "I wonder if it ever is."

"My friend Betty fell in love with a neighbor's son, a perfectly eligible man who will one day inherit his father's company."

"You wish you'd done the same?"

She almost said yes, but then remembered Maria's words. If she'd married in a conventional way, she wouldn't have married Lord Vandeimen, whom she clearly adored.

"There's no reason for my romance to be difficult," she said, "apart from Wyvern inconveniently living on the edge of nowhere. But I'm sure I can cope with that if I must."

"Then why are we on this journey?" he asked.

Because David fled London and did not intend to return, and she had to know why. She'd tried to dismiss insanity, and yet what else could drive him away? She knew she hadn't been mistaken about their pa.s.sion or their love.

The road began to slope downward, pushing her a little closer to Nicholas. She held on more tightly, but he couldn't and wouldn't protect her from herself. Odd to think that she might, perhaps, prefer to be protected, even prevented.

During the urgent planning and the fast journey she'd not dwelt deeply on her actions, but this swaying amble down toward the sea had brought every problem to the top of her mind. Her journey would be seen as mad by most people, and shameful, too. David might be angry or even disgusted that she'd done such a thing.

He wouldn't have abandoned her without good reason.

The rough road now pointed relentlessly downward, and the sea was no comfort. It spread before her, steely gray to the horizon. She could understand why people had once thought the earth flat and that ships would sail off the edge.

Nicholas halted the horse and pointed left. "You can see Crag Wyvern over there."

The dark tower on a cliff top was exactly as uncompromising and isolated as it had seemed in that ill.u.s.tration, and as bleak as Wyvern had implied.

She could deal with that problem, at least. If they did marry, they could use her money to tear it down and build better.

Away from cliffs.

Away from endless horizons.

She focused instead on the spire of a church and thatched rooftops. There was a village below the cliffs, tucked down low, not exposed to the elements.

The road smoothed out to flat as they entered the blessedly normal surroundings of well-tended cottages and gardens mingled with small farms surrounded by outbuildings and yards of poultry and pigs. The quite elegant church had a leafy graveyard.

"Church Wyvern," Nicholas said. "David was born and raised here, at Kerslake Manor. That road to our left leads up to the Crag."