“Certainly not,” chimed in Angelica. “Without a chaperon? It is not to be thought of.”
Raoul sighed. “Angelica, don’t start to make a lot of difficulties.”
“I am not, but you know perfectly well it is quite improper for you to escort Miss Temple, and I cannot possibly leave yet. Margaret is depending upon me.”
About to argue, Raoul was forestalled by Miss Temple.
“Ma’am, pray don’t disturb yourself. Once I am deposited at the Black Swan, I may fend for myself. I have no intention of compromising Lord Lynchmere, if that is what you fear.”
Raoul laughed. “The boot, Miss Temple, is on the other leg.”
“Exactly so,” agreed Angelica.
“Then I shall slip away by myself.”
“That you won’t.” Raoul took her by the elbow as she showed signs of walking off. “I will take you. Don’t fret, Angie. Nothing will come of it.”
“But I thought you wanted me to think of something.”
“Not at the moment. Let us first find out what the devil is going on.”
The drive, in Lord Lynchmere’s well-appointed carriage, did not take many minutes. But they were minutes fraught with question. Felicity sat bolt upright, clutching the hanging loop to steady herself with one hand, and with the other holding together the edges of her cloak retrieved for her by a footman.
Lost in dark thoughts, she had half-forgotten the presence of the figure beside her until he spoke from the darkness.
“What troubles you the most, Miss Temple?”
Startled, as much by his perception as his voice, she answered with truth. “That I have been betrayed.”
“By Maskery? How?”
Her breath caught in her throat and she struggled to sound normal. “He said he had a new life planned for me, that I would be as his daughter and enjoy the pleasures of society.”
“You believed him?”
She caught the sceptical note and turned to look at Lord Lynchmere, seeing only a shadowed face where he sat at his ease against the squabs. “No, if you want the truth. I had doubts from the outset. He had not previously led me to suppose he entertained any desire for my happiness.”
“Then why did you agree?”
She shivered and turned away. “You may well ask. He was insistent, plausible in some ways. And Mrs Jeavons added her persuasions. She said bluntly I ought to take this chance to escape the life she’d had to live or I would regret it my lifelong. In the end, it seemed churlish and stupid to hold out.”
“But your doubts remained.”
She drew a shaky breath. “They grew worse.” Somehow it was easier to talk of her folly in the dimness of the coach. “To be housed at an inn was a shock. Lord Maskery explained he owned no house in town and could not with propriety take me to his lodging. When he installed Mrs Sprake —”
She stopped, feeling anew all the revulsion the creature had evoked in her. It was not merely the twang she detected beneath Mrs Sprake’s over-refined speech. Nor yet the falsity of her overtures of affection. Felicity’s skin had crawled at the assessing look in the woman’s eyes as they went over her, at the darting tongue that wetted her lips whenever she exchanged a glance with Lord Maskery.
The carriage was slowing, dragging her mind out of the memory.
“I believe we have arrived. You may tell me the rest later.”
If there was to be a later. The thought flitted through Felicity’s head and was gone as the coach lurched through an archway and came to a standstill. She could see through the window the flicker of light and motion in the yard of the Black Swan.
Grinding anxiety returned and Felicity had to force herself to move as the door opened and one of Lord Lynchmere’s liveried servants let down the steps. He moved beside her.
“Let me go first.”
She sat back to give him room to pass. Next moment, he had jumped down and turned to hand her out of the coach. She climbed down and looked up into his face, his features harsh in the half-light of the yard. “Thank you, sir. I can manage now.”
