The Reluctant Escort. Mary Nichols
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course,’ she said placidly. ‘A man travelling to London with his wife is not the same as two masked men on horseback, now is it?’
‘London?’ he repeated. ‘Wife?’
‘Oh, I do not mean you to marry me, but we could pretend. Just until we reached the capital.’
‘I do not have to make an honest woman of you, then?’ he teased. ‘I thought in the best tradition of the lady novelists you would insist upon it.’ Talking to her made a refreshing change from the horrors which often invaded his thoughts; she was like a breath of spring air, light and joyful, the foretaste of the warmth of summer. And he had been too long in the cold.
‘I am not such a ninny as to want to shackle myself to a man who has no great love for me. That would spell disaster. And besides, I mean to enjoy my Season if I am so fortunate as to have one, and how can I do that if I am already married?’
‘How very sensible of you,’ he murmured, smiling a little.
‘You are laughing at me,’ she said.
‘No, I was thinking of your mama and what she might say when she found you on her doorstep.’
‘She will be very pleased to see me.’
‘Oh, I am sure she would.’ And this time he did not hide his smile as he added, ‘When she recovered from the shock. How are we to explain your arrival in my company? I am, after all, a rakeshame and you have no chaperon.’
She had no idea what she was talking about, he realised. The romantic reading which had been so large a part of her education might talk of ruined reputations, but he doubted if she had any conception of what it meant in practice. ‘Have you any idea what would happen when we arrived in London and it became known you had openly admitted to spending a whole night in my company?’ he asked.
‘Two nights,’ she corrected him.
‘You would be vilified. Everyone would cut you dead. There would be no Season. Your mother would disown you. And every ne’er-do-well in the capital would take it into his head…’ He paused. ‘No, I will not go into that.’
‘Then you must become a reformed character, concerned only for my welfare and good name. Lady Connaught charged you with bringing me safely to my mother and you discharged that duty faithfully.’
‘She would never do that unless you were travelling with a female companion, a maid, who slept in your room.’
She laughed. ‘Don’t be a goosecap, Captain; even I know maids do not sleep in the same room as a married couple.’
‘Not married,’ he said. ‘Being escorted, very properly escorted.’
‘Oh, I see. But I have no maid. Mama said it was not in the least necessary for me to have one. Her maid always helped me when I was at home, but since she sold the house…’
‘Sold the house?’ he queried in surprise.
‘Yes. The Colonel did not leave a great deal and all Mama had was a small pension. She was in debt and being dunned by everyone. She needed to realise all her assets to pay for her Season in London. It was an investment. She explained it all to me. She has rented a house in Holles Street and bought a carriage and horses. But when she has found her next husband we shall have a new home and everything we need.’
‘I can hardly credit it,’ he said, his fury with Harriet almost boiling over. He had always known Harriet was selfish and a gambler, but he had never thought she would treat her own daughter in such a ramshackle manner. ‘Do you mean to say you are homeless?’
‘I have—had—a home with Lady Connaught until Mama came about. And I suppose I could say I have a home in Holles Street. And if you are going to London…’
‘Who said I was?’
‘No one, but you are, aren’t you?’
‘No,’ Duncan said firmly. ‘The idea is out of the question.’
‘Oh, please, Captain. I will not be a trouble to you, I promise. I will be as quiet as a mouse and do as you bid…’
‘Impossible,’ he said. ‘I am ready to wager you could not keep quiet however hard you tried; I never heard such a chatterbox. And as for doing as you are told, give me leave to doubt that too.’
‘Then I shall not promise it, only that I will try my best.’ She turned a smile on him that made his heart turn over and almost took his breath away. ‘I cannot say fairer than that, can I?’
‘No,’ he admitted.
‘Then you will take me?’
‘I cannot.’ The further they went from Stacey Manor, the more difficult it would be for him to return Molly to his grandmother, but the young chit had been right when she said a husband and wife would attract less attention. They were still too near the scene of the action. But it was impossible. Out of the question. He had not yet stooped so low as to ruin a young lady’s reputation.
She was silent for a moment, but only a moment. ‘Have you been in London during the Season, Captain?’
‘Many years ago, before I became a soldier.’
‘And did you not find the lady of your dreams there?’
‘I thought so at the time, but nothing came of it.’
‘Oh, you were crossed in love. How sad for you. Is that why you have become a gentleman of the road?’
He laughed again but this time she detected a little bitterness in it. ‘I have admitted to being no such thing. Now do you think we might change the subject?’
‘Certainly, if you find it painful. Tell me, what do young ladies do during the Season? I have read some of Miss Austen’s books and others on etiquette and it seems to me there are a great many pitfalls. How do they know who is eligible and who is not? So much of it seems to rely on hearsay. Surely one needs more than that? After all, everyone must have a different idea about what makes a perfect partner. And how can mere acquaintanceship turn to love if you are never allowed to be alone with a man even for a minute? After all, he might seem very charming and unexceptional when in company, but turn out to be the very opposite when it is too late.’
‘That happens.’
‘And once she is committed she must make the best of it, I believe.’
‘That is another of your mama’s truisms, is it?’
‘Is it wrong?’
‘No. But courtship works two ways. The lady might not turn out to be all the young man had hoped for. A pretty face and a fetching figure are not the only attributes for a good wife.’
‘So, tell me what you think they are.’
He turned to smile at her. ‘What do you think?’
‘Love and compassion,’ she said promptly. ‘Gentleness, but not so much as to make her dull.’
‘Oh, you are so right,’ he said, only half teasing. ‘I should abhor dullness in a wife.’
‘I should not like a dull husband either. Not top-lofty or arrogant. I would expect him to be sensitive and kind.’ She paused to look at him, a smile playing about her lips. ‘And chivalrous.’
‘Oh, dear,’ he said mournfully. ‘I should fail on all counts.’
‘Oh, I wasn’t thinking of you, Captain. You are far too old.’
‘And that has put me firmly in my place,’ he said, smiling a little ruefully as he flicked the reins to make the horse go a little faster. ‘There is an inn ahead of us which I should like to reach as soon as maybe. And for your information I have seen but thirty summers.’
‘Old,’ she affirmed. ‘But perhaps that is no bad thing. One would expect a man of