Regency Rogues: Unlacing The Forbidden. Louise Allen
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least allow us to carry you that far. Tom!’ She gestured to the coachman who hurried over. ‘Place this gentleman’s luggage up behind the chaise.’
Rhys made his way towards them through the French passengers who were sorting themselves out amidst much weeping and waving of arms. No one appeared seriously injured.
‘My lord, this is the gentleman who supported the other end of the coach. He needs to get to an inn where he can rest.’
‘The lady is too kind, I trust I do not inconvenience you? My name is Giles Benton. I should have a card.’ He dug into his breast pocket and produced one.
‘The Reverend Benton,’ Rhys looked up from his study of the rectangle of pasteboard. ‘I am Palgrave.’
‘My lord. I recognise you, of course, from the House….’
‘Never mind the politics. And call me Denham,’ Rhys said, offering his hand. ‘May I present my cousin, Miss Smith.’ He blandly ignored Thea’s raised eyebrows, opened the door of the chaise for them then swung up on his horse, calling instructions to the postilions.
Now she was closeted with an Englishman, one who was a gentleman and a vicar to boot. He was probably even now working his way mentally through the Peerage and coming to the conclusion that the Earl of Palgrave had no cousins named Smith, certainly not young female ones without a wedding ring on their finger. If his mathematics was any good, he was putting two and two together and coming up with a thoroughly scandalous six.
But what other option did they have but to take him up? They could hardly leave him bleeding by the roadside. For the first time since her flight Thea faced the fact that a scandal would be humiliating, sordid and decidedly unamusing.
Thea took a deep breath and willed herself to calm. Panicking would only make her appear self-conscious and that would raise Mr Benton’s suspicions about her scandalous status, even if he had none now.
She cast a harried glance out of the window at Rhys, who at least seemed capable of sitting a horse without collapse, and studied her new companion. ‘You are travelling far, sir?’ That was a safe sort of question and put the focus on him.
‘To the Mediterranean coast.’ He smiled. ‘I have no very clear destination. I am taking advantage of the recent peace to indulge myself with a journey south to the sun before I take up a new position.’
‘A new parish?’
‘No. After I was ordained I realised I was not cut out for the ministry. I desired to put my talents, such as they are, in the service of the reform of society. I have taken a post as secretary to Lord Carstairs.’
‘He has interested himself in the abolition of slavery, has he not?’ It was a cause she had read much about, much to the disapproval of her father, who had interests in the West Indies. ‘It must be a great satisfaction to assist in that endeavour.’
‘Yes, of course, I should have realised you would be knowledgeable on the subject,’ he said, puzzling Thea. But Mr Benton swept on before she could query it. ‘He is also interested in prison reform, and his wife, Lady Carstairs, is active in advancing the education of women. I hope I may make some contribution to all three causes. I was very fortunate that my elder brother, Lord Fulgrove, knows Lord Carstairs well and was able to recommend me to him.’
‘Lord Fulgrove?’ Thea faltered before she could gather her wits.
Mr Benton shifted on his seat. ‘But do I not know you? I thought your face familiar, but I cannot place… I know, I have seen you talking to my sisters Jane and Elspeth in the park.’
Thea stared at him, struggling to find something intelligently evasive to say. ‘I have met them a few times.’ First the risk of scandal, now the danger that word would get back to Papa.
‘I shall make a point of telling them how you aided me,’ Mr Benton said. ‘I write to them almost daily. They will be delighted to know their friend Miss Smith is such a Good Samaritan.’
‘Ah. I, um… We have arrived at the inn. It seems exceedingly shabby.’ She lowered the window as Rhys walked over. ‘I do not like the look of this place. See how dirty the windows are, and the yard is full of rubbish.’
‘Indeed, the merest country drinking house and none too well equipped for travellers by the look of it.’
‘We cannot abandon Mr Benton here.’ The sooner they parted company the better, but she could not allow his health to be jeopardised to conceal her guilty secrets. A blow to the head was potentially very serious, and he had lost a lot of blood, even before his heroic efforts with the diligence. ‘He is travelling south. We can carry him to Lyon and find a doctor to attend to his head.’ She turned to study his pale face. ‘I fear you may require stitches, sir.’
Both men began to speak, but Polly, opening the opposite door to place a small bag on the floor, cut across them both. ‘Here’s the bag with the medical supplies. Mr Hodge thought the gentleman might need a fresh bandage, Lady Althea.’
Mr Benton shot Thea a glance and closed his lips firmly in a gesture that spoke far louder than any words. Rhys rolled his eyes upwards. ‘Devil take it.’
Thea looked from one to the other, her heart sinking. He was a clergyman; he would not condone what he thought to be immorality. ‘May I trust your discretion, Mr Benton?’
‘This is an elopement, I collect?’ he enquired stiffly. ‘Naturally, it is none of my business.’
‘No, we are not eloping!’
‘Perish the thought,’ Rhys added with what Thea felt was unflattering emphasis. ‘I am escorting Lady Althea to our godmother, Lady Hughson, in Venice. We are childhood friends.’
Mr Benton’s poker face softened into a smile. ‘Lady Hughson? I know her well. What a relief! I should have realised nothing untoward was happening after observing your gallant and selfless actions at the scene of the accident. I do apologise! Lady Althea…?’
‘Curtiss,’ she supplied, her conscience giving her a decided pang. They might not be sinning in fact, but her imagination was scandalous enough to condemn her in the eyes of any minister. ‘Because circumstances have led us to travel in a manner which is so open to misunderstanding, I hope you will understand if I ask you not to mention that we met along the way.’
‘But of course,’ Mr Benton assured her. ‘My lips are sealed.’
‘In that case,’ Thea said, ‘I will dress your head with a proper bandage and then we will be on our way to Lyon. Lord Palgrave, would you be so good as to have the sleeping couch put in place for Mr Benton? I am sure he should be lying down.’
‘By no means, Lady Althea,’ he protested. ‘I assure you I will be quite well sitting up—and in any case, I should be travelling with your servants in the coach, should I not? After all, a lady alone in a chaise…’
‘I have been travelling in the chaise with Lord Palgrave for most of this journey,’ Thea said, unwinding the makeshift dressing from his head. ‘I may as well be hanged for a sheep as a lamb. Besides, I doubt the presence of a clergyman will harm my reputation.’ She peered at the cut. ‘The bleeding has stopped, and I will not risk starting it again by washing your head with the water from this dirty inn. If you will just sit quite still…’
By the time they reached Lyon at seven o’clock that evening Rhys was convinced that he would never get off the horse, let alone walk to his bedchamber. The bruising and strains from holding up the coach had coalesced into one blaze of pain, and his hands, cut and pierced with splinters, were cramped on the reins.
‘Hodge,’