Courted by the Captain Page 3

  ‘I was a country girl until your papa employed me to look after you,’ Meg replied. ‘We make our own fun in the country. I always loved the haymaking as a girl—and gathering in the May blossom.’

  ‘Tell me about your childhood,’ Jenny said. ‘We’ve never talked like this before and I should so much like to know all about your family and what you did as a young girl...’

  * * *

  His thumping head had almost cleared now. The fresh air was doing him a power of good and he was glad he’d decided to drive himself down in his phaeton. Alas, his favourite high-perch phaeton with the bright yellow wheels and the matched blacks he’d prized so much had had to be sold to pay his immediate debts. He now had more than five hundred guineas in his account, which meant he could stop worrying—at least for the time being.

  Adam’s goal of having one of the best breeding stables in the country might have suffered a little from the loss of his blacks, but he still had the greys and the chestnuts, both teams excellent horseflesh. He’d always been a good judge of horses and gentlemen wishing to improve their stables often sought his advice. Had he wished he could have begun to put his land in order by selling more of his stable, but then his dream would vanish into thin air. However, the perch phaeton was a luxury and the more mundane vehicle he was driving now served him just as well.

  It would be good to see his cousins again. Since they were forever pressing him to stay he would not feel that he was in any way impinging on their hospitality. Mark had spoken of wishing to buy some good bloodstock in order to set up his stables and, with the addition of the mare Adam had decided to give him as a wedding gift, it could easily be done. They might ride out to a few sales in the neighbourhood and discover whether there was anything worth purchasing.

  Seeing the carriage blocking the road ahead, Adam brought his horses to a gentle halt and threw the reins to his tiger as he got down to investigate. It was obvious that the coach was old and something had broken—the leading pole by the looks of things. It had lurched sideways, only prevented from overturning by some skilled handling of the horses by the coachman. As Adam went to investigate, he saw two young women sitting on a blanket at the side of the road. One was obviously a maid, the other was a young lady of gentle birth dressed plainly in an elegant, but serviceable rather than fashionable, gown.

  ‘I am sorry to find you in trouble, ladies,’ he said and swept off his hat. ‘Is there anything I may do to help you?’

  ‘My uncle’s groom has gone to fetch a blacksmith,’ the young lady in green said. ‘I think it will need several men to get this wretched coach off the road—and I am informed that the nearest inn is more than a mile away.’

  ‘Yes, I believe there is an inn of sorts—but not at all suitable for ladies.’ Adam hesitated, then, ‘Where are you headed?’

  ‘The Dawlish estate. I am going to stay with Lucy and her family.’

  ‘Yes, I know the Dawlish family,’ Adam said. ‘I am going down to stay with Lucy’s bridegroom’s family—my cousins. The estates are not far apart. I could take you both up in my phaeton. However, your coachman must make arrangements to send on your baggage for I cannot accommodate it.’

  ‘Most of my things were sent ahead by wagon,’ Jenny said. ‘Coachman shall do as you suggest—if I may bring my box with me?’

  Adam saw the small trunk lying on the grass beside them and guessed it held her personal items and valuables.

  ‘Yes, of course. Your companion may hold it on her lap.’ He approached and offered his hand, ‘Allow me, Miss...’

  ‘Hastings—Jenny Hastings.’ Adam noticed the faint blush in her cheeks and the way her hand trembled in his, as he helped her to rise. It was only as he was handing her into his phaeton that he realised she was the lady he’d noticed at the last ball he’d attended in London. She’d looked at him with decided disapproval that night, though as far as he knew they’d never met before today. ‘I knew Lucy at school. My father is dead and they have kindly offered me a home.’

  Her slight embarrassment and the plainness of her gown and pelisse made Adam think that she was reduced to accepting kindness from her friends. It would seem that her father’s demise had left her in difficult circumstances and she was to be some kind of a companion, though treated as a friend rather than a paid servant. It was a situation that many young ladies of good birth found themselves in when a death in the family left them with too little fortune to manage for themselves.

  She was wearing a pretty silver-and-enamelled brooch pinned to her pelisse. Of little value, it was exactly the kind of ornament a girl in her position would prize. He wondered that she had told him so much of her situation for she need not, and yet perhaps she felt her come down keenly and did not wish him to think her a privileged guest. He smiled at her kindly, because now he understood the expression she’d worn that evening in London. She had not been disapproving of him in particular, but was at odds with the world itself for leaving her in her present circumstances.

  Adam could sympathise, for his own circumstances were not too far different. Miss Hastings would not have the avenue of marriage to a rich heiress open to her. Being a man, and heir to a title, he had a distinct advantage, as his problems might have been solved had he a little less pride. For a young woman like this there were few options open to her other than to seek paid employment or live as a dependent in the home of a friend—unless she was fortunate enough to be asked for in marriage. If she were prepared to accept an older man or a widower with a family, she might be fortunate enough to find a comfortable match—although was there any comfort to be had in a loveless marriage?

  Having settled Miss Hastings in the carriage, he helped the young maid to sit behind and took up the reins from his tiger. By driving with great care, he managed to pass the stricken coach and mount the grass verge, negotiating a tricky passage with ease.

  ‘You drive very well,’ Miss Hastings observed and Adam smiled. He was considered a notable whip, but had no intention of puffing off his consequence. ‘Papa was a whip—indeed, I shall never understand how he came to overset his chaise at such speed that he was thrown to the ground and killed.’

  ‘Accidents will happen even to the best of us,’ Adam said in a sympathetic tone. ‘I am sorry for your loss, Miss Hastings.’

  ‘It was almost a year ago now, which is why I’ve left off my blacks. My aunt was anxious for me to wear colours again—but I shall continue to wear grey and lilac for a little longer.’

  ‘Your gown today is a very pretty green, however.’

  ‘A present from my aunt. I felt obliged to wear it since she had gone to so much trouble to have it made up for me.’

  ‘Ah, I see...’ Adam concentrated on his driving. ‘It will be late afternoon by the time we arrive at Ravenscar. If we dine there, I can send word to Lady Dawlish. She may have you fetched—or I can drive you there after we’ve eaten. To arrive after dark without explanation might cause some adverse comment...’

  ‘You think Lady Dawlish might consider it improper in me to allow you to take us up?’

  ‘I would not wish to have anyone form the wrong conclusion.’

  ‘But surely...I have my maid...’

  ‘Yes, but I...well, I have been known to support a pretty...mistress in the past and I would not wish anyone to receive the wrong impression.’

  ‘Oh...’ A sideways glance told him that her cheeks flamed. ‘I had not thought...only how kind it was...’ She floundered and Adam took pity on her.

  ‘You are quite safe with me. I do not seduce innocent young ladies, even if I have the reputation of being a rake—which is not truly deserved, though I say it myself.’

  ‘You are very thoughtful for my sake.’

  ‘A young woman in your delicate position cannot be too careful.’

  ‘In my...’ She swallowed hard, a startled look in her eyes.
She could not have realised how revealing her words had been and he was sorry to have embarrassed her. ‘Yes, I see. You fear that it might cause Lady Dawlish to rescind her kind offer?’

  ‘Great ladies can sometimes be a little severe in matters of propriety,’ Adam said. ‘Safer to reach my cousin’s house and then send word that we took you in when your coach met with an accident.’

  ‘Yes...thank you. You are very considerate.’ Adam risked another glance at her. Her cheeks were rather pink and she seemed in some sort of difficulty. He was not sure whether her foremost emotion was embarrassment or...was that a gasp of despair or could it possibly be laughter?

  ‘You may think me impertinent, perhaps? Yet I should not wish you to lose your home because of a misunderstanding.’

  ‘No, certainly not, that would be unfortunate.’ She had herself in hand now and smiled at him. ‘I assure you I do not find you in the least impertinent, sir. Indeed, I am grateful for your care of my reputation.’

  Adam made no immediate reply. She was obviously much affected by her change in situation. He could only suppose that she had been brought up to expect the best from life and her new circumstances were distressing her.

  ‘I should never wish to be the cause of harm to a young lady, especially when you find yourself in difficulties,’ he assured her and heard a little gasp from the maidservant. ‘Now tell me, are you looking forward to Lucy’s wedding?’

  ‘Yes, very much indeed,’ the reply came easily now. ‘The summer holds many treats ahead, I think, for Lady Dawlish is a generous hostess and will not permit herself to show me any lessening of regard because of my reduced circumstances.’

  She had brought herself to speak of it and Adam was respectfully silent. He knew how much it must have cost her to speak of such things and was determined to be as generous and kind as he could.

  * * *

  For the next half an hour he regaled her with stories of his and his cousins’ exploits on the field of battle, describing the fierce fighting and their feelings of despair when at first forced to retreat. Also, the true comradeship and care for one another their experiences had forged.

  ‘When Old Hookey gave the orders to advance I was never more delighted in my life. What might have been a rout ended in a brilliant victory—and it was due to his strategy and the bravery of men who would cheerfully have died for him.’

  ‘I fear too many died,’ Jenny said. ‘I recall my uncle speaking of it—but he did not say much for he knew any talk of such things would distress me.’

  ‘Yes, indeed, it is not the subject for a lady’s parlour,’ Adam admitted. ‘I believe Wellington is now in Vienna. I fear he will find making the peace more difficult than he found the campaign. It is always so, for politics is a dirty business and men who would not know how to command a fly have a deal too much to say about how things shall be settled.’

  ‘My uncle was of the opinion that Napoleon should be tried and executed, but I dare say that will not happen.’

  ‘I think too many voices would be raised against it. He must certainly be contained for we cannot allow him to wreak further havoc in Europe—but he is a fine general and an execution might be a hard way to end such a life.’

  ‘You sound as though you almost admire him?’

  ‘Yes, in a way, I suppose I do. He was a worthy opponent. At one time the most brilliant general that ever lived, barring Wellington himself—though at the end he made mistakes he would not have made when he was younger. Like many others before him he grew too big for his boots. Power went to his head. Had he known when to stop, he might still have been emperor.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps. I had heard some speak of him in romantic terms, but thought them foolish girls—but if you admire him, the case is proven.’

  Adam chuckled for such forthright speech was not often met with in a young lady and he found her views refreshing. Glancing at her sideways, he wondered what other pearls of wisdom might drop from those sweet lips given the chance.

  Jenny glanced round at her maid. ‘Are you comfortable, Meg?’

  ‘Oh, yes, miss. Much more comfortable now.’

  ‘My uncle’s coach rattled us almost to death,’ she said and laughed. ‘Casting a wheel was better fortune than we knew.’

  The sound of her laughter warmed Adam. He was suddenly aware of her sitting close to him, her femininity, and her subtle perfume that he thought was her own rather than from a bottle. She was quite lovely—though no cold beauty. He thought of some of the proud London ladies he’d seen dressed in their rich gowns. In her simple travelling gown this young woman cast them all into shade. He felt something stir in his loins—a feeling he did not often associate with innocent young ladies.

  Adam’s taste was normally for older women, opera singers or dancers, or the occasional widow who needed a friend’s support to keep the wolf from the door after the death of her loved one. Over the years he’d taken his lovers lightly: a Spanish tavern wench, a French actress, several English ladies who had been married, some more than once. To feel the heat of desire curl through him because of a proper young lady sitting beside him was a new experience. Though it made him smile inwardly, he ruthlessly crushed all thought of what her lips might taste of or how the softness of her skin might feel pressed against his.

  Miss Jenny Hastings was out of bounds. She had no fortune and neither did he so marriage was not a viable proposition had either of them had the inclination, which it was much too soon even to consider—and anything else was out of the question, even if this feeling happened to be more than fleeting lust. He could offer her friendship and he would—but his honour forbade him to take advantage of her vulnerability. No, he must conquer the sudden and ridiculous desire to stop the carriage and catch her up in his arms. It was quite ridiculous. They were complete strangers and knew nothing of one another. He really did not know what had got into him! And yet when he’d caught her eye in that London ballroom he’d felt drawn to her somehow.

  * * *

  ‘Are we very far now?’ she asked after he had lapsed into silence for some twenty minutes or more.

  ‘Are you hungry or tired?’ he asked and glanced at his watch. ‘I suppose we might have stopped, but I thought it unwise to eat at an inn. We should be at Ravenscar Court in a few minutes.’

  ‘Oh, good,’ Jenny said. ‘My aunt’s cook put up a hamper for us, but in the distress of the accident it went rolling into the ditch and was lost.’

  ‘And you are hungry.’ He heard a sound that could only be her stomach growling and became aware of his own hunger—not the sexual hunger he’d felt earlier, but a natural desire for food. ‘I promise you it will not be long. My cousins will provide us with refreshments as soon as we arrive.’’

  * * *

  Adam pulled his chaise to a halt at the front of a large, imposing country residence some fifteen minutes later. His tiger jumped down and went to hold the horses’ heads, while he helped first Miss Hastings and then her maid to alight.

  ‘Well, here we are,’ he said. ‘I am expected so someone should be here at any—’

  The sound of shots being fired startled him. He looked about him in search of their source, thinking that they must have come from somewhere at the rear. It was even as he was deciding what to do for the best that a man came from the front porch and stumbled towards him. Adam saw the blood and gave a cry of distress and shock, rushing towards his cousin. He was in time to catch Mark before he collapsed. Holding him in his arms, he knelt on the gravel, looking down at the face of the man he had always believed the most favoured of the gods and practically invincible.

  ‘Mark, dear fellow,’ he said, for he saw that the wound was fatal and his cousin had but a short time to live. ‘What happened—who did this to you?’

  ‘Father...Paul...tell Father to watch out for him...’

  The words were s
o faint that Adam scarcely heard them. His head was in a whirl, his mind suspended in disbelief. How could this be happening? Mark had sailed through all the campaigns on the Peninsula and in France. How could he be lying in Adam’s arms dying of a shotgun wound now when he was at his own home in peaceful Huntingdonshire?

  ‘What is happening?’ Paul’s voice cried. He came running from the side of the house, a shotgun broken for safety and lying over his arm. As he approached, he dropped the gun and flung himself down by his brother’s side. ‘No—oh God, no,’ he cried and tears started to his eyes. ‘Did you see what happened? Who could have done this? I heard shots almost at the same moment as I shot a rat in the walled garden. Did anyone come this way?’

  ‘No one but Mark,’ Adam said. He stood up as servants started to converge on them from all sides. ‘Some of you make a thorough search of the grounds. One of you must go for the doctor. I think it is hopeless, but the attempt must be made. If you see a stranger or intruder, apprehend them—I want justice for my cousin.’

  Pandemonium broke loose. Men were shouting at each other, feet flying as they divided into groups to search for the murderer. Adam lifted Mark off the ground, carrying him into the house. Then, remembering his passengers, he turned to look at them. Both young women looked stunned.

  ‘As you see, my cousin has been shot,’ Adam said. ‘Forgive me. I had not expected to bring you to such a reception.’

  ‘You must not think of us,’ Jenny said and dabbed at her cheeks with a lace kerchief.

  ‘Mrs Mountfitchet,’ Adam addressed a woman dressed all in black, who hovered nearby. ‘These young ladies were in distress for their carriage has broken down—send word to Lady Dawlish, for they are meant to be her guests, and please feed them. They are hungry.’

  ‘Do not worry for them, sir,’ the housekeeper said. ‘Come along, my dears. I’ll find you a comfortable parlour to sit in and you shall have some bread and butter, cold meats and pickles—and a pot of tea.’