A Regency Virgin's Undoing: Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin / Paying the Virgin's Price. Christine Merrill
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smelling slightly of horse.
Still, it would be nice to know. And to imagine what it would be like to drive Mr Hendricks mad. Because, if there was an answering madness, she suspected that she might be experiencing some of the symptoms. It was probably all the fault of the breeches.
The idea that they would be sleeping side by side again tonight made her … She shook her head in disgust. It made her want to giggle. To simper, just as girls did in the retiring room after having had a waltz with a particularly handsome gentleman. There was nothing about the current situation that should be so amusing. Or even give rise to the sort of nervous tittering that other girls engaged in.
Sleeping beside him was a necessary evil of the trip, a way to share warmth without laying a fire. Or at least it had been, until he had touched her. Her body resonated like rung crystal. And it proved that, no matter what she had feared, he did not think of her as genderless. He knew she was a woman and had apparently given the matter some thought. The look in his eyes had been confident, knowing and faintly amused. It had been there in the kiss as well, as though he had known what to expect from her mouth and her body. He had seen potential in her and had sought to develop it.
After, he had looked as she had felt: utterly confused. As he had promised, she was relaxed, more sure of herself and her surroundings. But he looked tense. Nervous. Unable to meet her eyes. And she had ruined everything by being harsh with him, scolding and pretending that she had not wanted exactly what he’d given her.
And then he had hurried away from her with muttered excuses about seeing to the horses. If she did not change her tone with him, it was unlikely that he would share the blanket with her at all tonight. He would go to sleep beside his horse and she would sleep alone.
Tomorrow, they would ride on, she would find Priss and they would take her back to London. She would explain to her father what had occurred and Mr Hendricks’s part in it. Omitting certain details, of course. He would be paid and she would see to it that he received a polite but vague letter of thanks and recommendation for his help in handling a delicate matter with utmost discretion.
Then he would go. And she would never see him again. All the anxiety of the previous days came flooding back to her at once. What was she to do without him?
The same things she had always done, of course. She would manage herself and those around her. She would raise her chin, standing firm in the face of all the nonsense her family was capable of, and put up with her father’s endless disapproval. She would put her needs to one side in the vain hope that, some day, things would be settled and she would have time for herself.
For the first time since childhood, she wanted to stamp her foot and cry. Sometimes, she worried that there would never be more to her life than what she already had, an endless string of duties and loneliness. In the moment she had kicked the strange man seated across the carriage from her, the burden of responsibility had been lifted. Now she did not want to take it back. It would be even more difficult to return home, knowing that there was a wonderful world of experience that she had sampled just one small corner of.
She wanted him to come back, so she could put her arms around his neck and pull him down into the haystack. Then she would demand that he tell her everything. He must teach her to touch him in the way he had touched her, right to the very soul, until he was lying beside her, as happy and sated as she felt.
She wanted him to assure her that there was more between them as well, that it didn’t have to end in a week, with a discreet thank you and a return to their normal stations.
She bundled the blanket in her arms and set off towards the trees to find him. ‘Mr Hendricks!’
He was leaning against a tree, eyes closed and at peace, almost as if he meant to sleep standing up. But when he realised she was near, he started in panic, glancing around himself as though he thought to run. ‘Lady Drusilla.’
‘Mr Hendricks,’ she said, more gently. ‘I wish to retire. Will you be joining me on the haystack this evening?’ It sounded ridiculously formal. But what else did one say, at a moment like this?
But it must have been right. When she caught his eyes, he smiled. No. Not a smile. He grinned. It was insolent and inappropriate.
Without even thinking, she grinned back at him, then they both looked hurriedly away. She straightened her clothing; he polished his spectacles.
And then he said, ‘I do not think it wise that I join you, after what just occurred. That is, if you do not wish …’
‘I do not wish to be cold or alone, either,’ she said firmly. ‘And in the hay, there are likely to be … other residents. Vermin, perhaps, or adders.’
‘And that frightens you?’
Of course it didn’t. It would be unpleasant, of course, but it was foolish to worry about things that were so small. But for once, she managed to answer correctly. ‘Yes, the very idea terrifies me.’
He let out a bark of laughter to show that he did not believe her in the least, then he stood up and took the blanket from her. ‘Of course I shall share a haystack with you, Lady Drusilla. I would not dream of leaving you, a frail female, alone and afraid.’ They walked back to the hay and he took the blanket from her, spreading it out to make a kind of nest for them. Then he climbed up and helped her up beside him. And added, more quietly, ‘At the very least, I will come to see what you look like when frightened. In my experience, it must be a rare thing.’
‘Not really,’ she admitted. ‘But I have found there is little point in displaying such emotions. Fear is invariably used against one by those who sense it. In the end, one is worse off than before.’
He made a noise, low in his throat, like a beast growling at an intruder, then he pulled her to him, so that she could form herself around the bumps and hollows of his body. They were as close as pieces of a puzzle. ‘You need have no fear of showing your true colours to me, Dru. You are safe, as are your secrets.’
She felt something deep inside of her relax, as though she’d kept a spring coiled tight and just now released it. Had she really been frightened, all this time? ‘Mr Hendricks,’ she said, testing her newfound bravery.
‘Yes, my lady?’ If he was trying to go back to the way it had been before, when he was nothing more than a solicitous servant, he was not quite succeeding. Though his words seemed innocent enough, there was an added depth to them, as though he meant something quite different.
‘If I had not hired you …’ she wet her lips ‘… would you still have helped me? I know I trapped you into accompanying me, at least a little way. But there was no real need. Even from the first, you could have exposed the lie.’
‘Of course I would have helped you. While the offer of remuneration was certainly welcome, I could not have left a woman in need.’ He smiled. ‘And while you might not like to admit it, you had need of me.’
‘Oh.’ As always, her voice sounded gruffer than she wished. And the tone, which Priss would have called her schoolmistress voice, hid the little stab of joy she felt.
Then she stifled it. Of course he would have helped her. He was a gentleman, after all—not rich or titled like her father. But in the sense that he had proper manners, and respect for the fairer sex.
As though he had guessed her next question, he said, ‘If you are now thinking that I would have treated any woman I found just the same, then the answer is, no, I would not. I would never have abandoned a lady in distress. And once my services were engaged, I was bound to do as you wished. But there are some things that cannot be commanded, by manners or money. Robbing a coach, for instance. It would take an exceptionally persuasive woman to achieve that.’
She took a deep breath and said, ‘And what happened after?’
‘That was something I did by choice, not out of a sense of obligation to anyone.’ He tipped his head to the side and looked at her. ‘While I might kiss some women on a whim, it is unusual to be so moved by the presence of another that I lose all common sense. Nor do I usually take to