"Yes, I thank you." She sat prim and perfect. And as cold as the raindrops that were dripping down his neck. The maid beside her had fallen silent and lifted her mobcap to its more customary position atop her head.
Alas, the marquess thought, touching his hat, sketching a bow, and withdrawing his head into the storm again, there was no occasion after all to leap into the carriage in order to calm the hysterical females in his strong and very willing male arms. Only the maid had been hysterical, and one word from her mistress had had the effect of calming her.
A very disappointing encounter.It had had strong romantic possibilities. Not that he was much given to romance, it was true. It had had such . . . possibilities, he amended in his mind.
Those two idiots were probably already steaming themselves before a fire, he thought, grimacing at the sight of his boots as he mounted into his saddle again. The curricle was already being led into the coachhouse beside the inn. They had doubtless not even glanced back to see that all was safe behind them.
Well, if there was one consolation in the events of the last hour it was that the lady of the delightful legs would probably be forced to put up at the inn too. It would be suicide to try to continue. He might have another chance with her. Good fortune seemed to be smiling on him, even if the sun was not.
He frowned at an ostler who was peeping out at him from the stables, obviously afraid that he might get his cap wet if he came outside. And he watched in some disgust a minute later as the same ostler led his horse away at arm's length lest he get some mud on his breeches.
Some inn this was going to be.
* * *
Although it was an enormous relief to feel the carriage draw to a halt outside the inn, Diana was very reluctant to alight. For one thing, it seemed improbable that they would be able to continue on their way that day, and she had set out with so few servants only on the understanding that she could reach Rotherham Hall within one day. Papa would be so vexed with her if he could see her bow.
Then of course, there was her headache, which a sleepless night, a day of travel on English roads, a sudden rainstorm, and the near accident caused by the gentleman's curricle had done nothing to ease. A country inn was the very last place where she felt like resting her head.
She had not seen that gentleman turn into the inn. She had not looked out the window. But he must have done so. It would have been madness to ride on. Would he be standing there inside when she went in? She would die of mortification. Gracious heaven, he had seen more of her legs than Teddy had ever seen. And her bonnet must have looked ridiculous, to say the least. How would she ever face him and keep her dignity? And he had been so very decidedly handsome and fashionable, despite
his muddy and bedraggled appearance.
Of course, those idiots, those imbeciles, those nincompoops—she could not think of a strong enough word to describe the two gentlemen huddled inside their coats and beneath their hatswhohad raced past her carriage and almost left total disaster in their wake—were probably at the inn too. She would like nothing better than to give them a piece of her mind, especially the one who had held the ribbons.
But she doubted that her head would allow her to do justice to her wrath.
"I should drop to my knees right here and now," Bridget was saying beside her, though she did not do so, "and give thanks to the merciful Lord for bringing us safely here. I thought wewasdead for sure, mum. My life flashed all before my eyes, which is what they say happens when you are about to die.Most queer, mum—five-and-twenty years all in a flash.I even saw my dear mum, what died when I
was five. But she was holding out her arms to me, she was, and telling me to come. And a beatific smile on her face, mum."
Diana grasped her temples with a finger and thumb. If she had one thing to be thankful for, it was that Bridget had forgotten to whisper.
But there was no putting off the evil moment. Jimmy opened the carriage door, put down the steps, and announced in his gravelly voice that there was no way he was going to put his neck in danger for one more half mile that day. This was where they stayed, whether she liked it or not.
Jimmy had a peculiar tendency to believe that everyone was about to argue with him. His manner was always decidedly belligerent.
"And glad I am to hear it, Jimmy," she said, putting a gloved hand into one of his large and solid ones and stepping gingerly down onto the mud-strewn cobbles. She hurried into the taproom of the inn away from the lashing rain.
It was empty, apart from the burly figure of the innkeeper, she saw with some relief. She felt as if someone had lifted her heart right up inside her brain, and it was beating there with great enthusiasm.
The following half hour was worse than a nightmare. She was shown to a room at the top of a single flight of stairs. She had no objection to that. She scarcely noticed, and certainly did not care, that the inn was small and unfashionable. She did not notice Bridget inspecting the sheets of the bed for dampness and bedbugs. She scarcely participated in the process of undressing herself and brushing her hair and washing her face.
All she could think of was crawling into bed and being left alone with her misery. But the inn bustled noisily about her. And Bridget whispered. To be fair, she whispered about Diana in the third person, so that the latter would not feel the necessity of replying. The gist of her monologue seemed to be that the Lord was to love her poor mistress.
"Lordloveher," Bridget whispered. "Never a complaint though she has been bounced and jounced near to death and well nigh overturned on these English roads and her with a headache to start with. It is a blessed thing that she has fallen asleep at last. I have been hoping for it and have not talked out loud all day so as not to disturb her.The lamb.Lordloveher."
Diana clutched her head and burrowed farther into the pillow.
Bridget whispered on as she bustled about tidying her mistress's things and setting up a truckle bed for herself for the night.
"Ah, she's still awake, the poor lamb," the whisper said finally from beside the bed. "Let me go and get you something, mum.Some laudanum.You need a good night's rest."
Diana looked up weakly out of squinted eyes and gave in. "Some laudanum, then, Bridget, if you please," she said, and found herself reaching greedily for it five minutes later.
Was there ever such misery?
When Bridget started suggesting again that the Lord love her, Diana sent her downstairs for dinner. Although she realized her voice was sounding childishly plaintive, it was the best she could do. In onemore minuteshe would start screaming and throwing things.
