Page 39 of The Storybook Hero
“Be assured, you will be well rewarded for your trouble.” She withdrew several coins from her pocket and tossed them at the man’s feet.
The change in the fellow’s demeanor was instantaneous. “Yes, my lady,” he said as he bent to retrieve the money. “Right away.”
“Do you always find a way to make someone jump at your command?” murmured Alex, his face sufficiently thawed to manage coherent speech. “Perhaps you should have remained in Moscow to direct Kutusov in fending off the Frogs.”
“I have enough on my hands trying to deal with two young people intent on doing each other bodily harm ,and a tutor who seems to lack for common sense, if not for sarcasm,” she retorted.
He couldn’t repress a chuckle. “It was that bad inside the carriage?”
“Don’t ask.” Her tone softened considerably as she eased off the first boot and felt his foot. “But not as bad as what you have endured during the journey. Your feet are nearly frozen, Mr. Leigh. And your cheeks are only now beginning to lose their coating of frost.”
He cleared his throat as he leaned over to tug off the remaining boot. “Well, I daresay I’ll survive.” It slipped through his fingers and clattered to the floor. A sigh of relief followed, though he sought to mask it with a cough.
“It’s not a laughing matter. I’ll not have you forced to drive hour after hour without relief. You’ll catch your death of cold.”
It had been so long since someone had voiced concern over his welfare that he was speechless for a moment. Then a faint smile came to his face. “I appreciate the sentiment, Miss Hadley, but there is little choice if we are to reach St. Petersburg.”
Her chin jutted forward. “I shall just have to learn to handle the ribbons, too. That way, we may spell each other. I have quite a lot of experience in driving my father’s gig. It can’t be that much more difficult to handle a team and sleigh.”
Alex nearly spilled the steaming cup of tea the proprietor had handed to him. But the urge to tell her she was utterly mad died on his lips on catching the glint of determination in her eye. He suddenly couldn’t help wondering how many of the soft, voluptuous ladies who had shared his bed would offer to share the hardships of driving a lumbering sleigh through a Russian winter.
Closing his eyes, he then found his thoughts drifting, drifting … and all he could think about was a soft bed and an eiderdown coverlet …
“Stop kicking me!”Emma’s voice drew Octavia’s attention away from Alex’s exhausted face.
“I’m not kicking you, I’m swinging my foot and you are in the way.”
“Emma and Nicholas, you must remember not to speak English in a public place,” she warned in a low voice. “We do not wish to call attention to ourselves.”
The girl lowered her head and gave a sniff. “Then tell him to leave me alone,” she whispered.
Nicholas crossed his arms and glowered.
The arrival of four bowls of an unidentifiable stew, along with a stale loaf of dark bread, forestalled the latest skirmish. The two young people were too tired to bicker and eat at the same time, so they applied themselves to the meal without further ado. Octavia ate in silence too, but noted with some concern that Alex hardly took a bite. Instead he ordered a bottle of spirits to go with his tea. Despite his earlier attempts at dry humor, he looked unusually serious as he poured a glass and drained it with one gulp.
As he quickly measured out a refill, she wondered whether he was roundly cursing the Fates that had thrust her and Emmain his path. He could hardly be blamed if he was, she admitted. His task had become infinitely more difficult with the addition of two more people to look after. And if he failed to convey the young count to St. Petersburg, he likely wouldn’t be paid a farthing for all his risks. She could well imagine what that would mean for an impecunious tutor—or whatever he was. Perhaps he wouldn’t be forced to the street, as she would be, because men had other options. But the future would no doubt be grim.
She stole another glance at his shadowed face. Judging by the deep lines etched at the corners of his eyes, the past had not been terribly kind either. On several occasions, Alex had allowed his mask of nonchalance to slip for just an instant, revealing the scars of pain and doubt. What kind of life had left such marks? wondered Octavia. That he drank too much she knew. That he looked to women for amusement she guessed.
His other vices she could only imagine.
Whatever his weaknesses and faults, she vowed that she would not be the cause of his failure in this endeavor. In spite of their obvious differences she felt a strange sort of kinship bound them together. After all, they were both friendless, penniless souls depending solely on their own wits and fortitude to make their way in an unfriendly world. So whether he liked it or not, she was determined to be a help rather than a hindrance.
The sound of a knife falling to the floor disturbed her reverie. Alex’s chin had sunk to his chest and a soft snoring rumbled in his throat.. Octavia laid aside her spoon and rose. It took little time to arrange for two rooms once another few coins had changed hands.
She returned and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Leigh.”
His eyes fluttered open and he stared at her in some consternation before he seemed to recall where he was.
“I’ve taken rooms for us,” she said. ”I daresay you will be a bit more comfortable sleeping there, though not much. I imagine we’ll all be flea-bitten by morning.”
“Ah, but when you are jug-bitten, you tend not to notice.” He signaled to the proprietor and called for another bottle of vodka to take with him.
“Surely you don’t mean to drink that with Nicolas present.” Even though she spoke softly her voice was full of reproach.
He gave a mocking smile. “Don’t worry. I don’t mean to share it.”
And to think she had just been feeling sorry for him! “You should be ashamed of yourself, setting such a bad example.”
