Page 6 of Reforming Lord Ragsdale
“John, we want to leave within the hour,” she reminded him and then took a closer look. “Oh, John!”
Three hours later, he groped his way downstairs and onto his horse, which waited patiently by the front stoop. Lasker had sent the footman in to help him pack and also to rescue him from his own razor when he attempted to shave his pale face. A splattering of bay rum was more than he could bear. It sent him lurching back to his washstand, where he vomited his toenails into the basin, vowing, as he gagged and retched, never to drink again.
The cold February air was a relief. He breathed as deep as he dared of the icy blast and then pulled his hat low and his riding coat tight around him. He carefully shook his head over his mother’s attempts to get him inside the carriage and waited, reins held in slack fingers, while Emma Costello carried in the last bandbox.
As she went to climb in, her cloak caught on the door handle. Her hands full, she struggled to free herself and then glanced in his direction, as if to ask for help.
Embarrassed, he shook his head, knowing that if he dismounted, he would disgrace himself again. To his further chagrin, she quickly lowered her eyes and turned away as if humiliated, continuing her efforts to free herself until Robert dismounted with an oath and lent a hand. Lord Ragsdale watched as she hurried inside the carriage, closed the door, and made herself small in the corner.
Merciful heaven, I am off to such a start with this one, he thought as he regarded Emma another moment and then gently eased Champion into the street.Please, please let this London Season go by quickly.
They traveled steadily into a dreary afternoon, the clouds gray and threatening, the wind coming in puffs of blasting cold from all directions at the same time. Robertkept him company for part of the journey and proved to be an amiable companion. He was one of those persons who, if given free rein to talk, would carry on a merry discourse that required little comment or addendum from another. John was content to listen to his cousin. He learned all he ever wanted to know about tobacco farming, the growing slave trade, and the trouble with Federalists without having to respond beyond the occasional “Hmm,” or “Indeed.” Robert’s mellow voice with its soft drawl was soothing in the extreme. By the time Robert succumbed to the weather and begged a seat inside the coach, John was almost sorry to see him surrender.
As soon as Robert retreated to the relative comfort of the family carriage, Lord Ragsdale realized that the next few hours of travel would hang heavy. The day was no warmer the farther they traveled into it, and he felt ill unto death. Had he traveled by himself, Lord Ragsdale would have stopped at the first hostelry that appeared to offer clean sheets and quiet premises. His head began to throb again.
He was about to stop the coachman, admit defeat, and plead illness, when Sally Claridge came to his unexpected rescue. He was swallowing his pride and rising bile when his mother lowered the glass and rapped on the side of the carriage with her umbrella. The coachman reined in and peered back at her. Lady Ragsdale opened the door and leaned out to speak to her son.
“John, Sally is experiencing some distress from the motion. I know this will irritate you, but could we stop early tonight?” she asked.
It was all he could do to keep from bursting into tears of gratitude.Dear Sally, can it be that you are as estimable as your brother?he thought as he faked a frown and then nodded, hoping that he did not appear too eager.
“If we must, Mother,” he responded after a suitable length of time had passed. He sighed heavily for the effect and then wished he hadn’t as his stomach heaved. “Let me ride onahead and find the nearest inn,” he offered, hoping that the inmates of the carriage would see his act as a magnanimous gesture rather than a desperate attempt to get out of their range of vision before he disgraced himself.
Lady Ragsdale nodded and spoke to Sally, who raised her pale face to the window and blew him a kiss. He glanced at Emma, but she studiously ignored him.Ah, well, he thought as he tipped his hat and spurred ahead, eager to outdistance the carriage.I can puke in peace.
When the carriage arrived at the Norman and Saxon, Lord Ragsdale was in control of his parts again. The inn was full of other clients who must have had second thoughts about the weather, but he was able to secure a private parlor and two sleeping rooms. While he waited for the carriage to arrive, he tested his nerve on a pint in the tavern and watched a card game that, from the unkempt aspect of its patrons, appeared to have been in progress since shortly after Moses brought down stone tablets from Sinai. The ale went down smoothly, settling what, if anything, remained of his stomach’s contents. The card game tempted him not at all.
He helped his mother from the carriage, quick to notice that she was not in the best of spirits either. “Poor dear,” he murmured as she leaned on his arm. “Too many bumps in the road?”
She nodded. “I always forget what a poor traveler I am. Please tell me there is a bed close by, John.”
He kissed her cheek, happy to play the competent son. “There is even a warming pan between the sheets, m’dear. You and Sally can keep each other company, snoring to your heart’s delight.”
He helped her upstairs and then returned to retrieve Sally, who drooped on Emma’s arm in the hallway outside the public room’s entrance.
“Can I lend a hand here?” he asked, suddenly shy, and rendered more embarrassed when Emma nodded, relinquished her hold, and tried to disappear against the wall. He tooka firm grasp on Sally’s shoulder and pointed her toward the stairs, but she surprised him by stiffening up. “Yes, my dear?” he inquired, curious about her resistance.
She didn’t say anything, but he followed her gaze into the taproom, where Robert was standing over the gaming table, a pint in his hand. “I wish you would not let him play,” she said.
He laughed. “I am sure it is only a harmless game.”
“I mean it,” Sally replied, and he could almost feel her gravity. He took her by both shoulders then. “Sally, I’ll get you upstairs, and Emma can make you and Mama comfortable. I promise to keep an eye on your brother. I am certain I can keep him from sitting down at a gaming table. How difficult can that be?” He attempted a joke because her anxiety disturbed him. “I am certain I outweigh my cousin, if it comes to that.”
She regarded him with a wan smile and allowed him to lead her up the narrow stairway and into the room where Lady Ragsdale still sat on the bed, the effort to move beyond her. Emma followed with the luggage. In another moment, the servant was skillfully, quietly in charge. He paused in the doorway until he was sure that all was well.
“I’ll order dinner, Mama,” he said. “What would you like?”
“Soup and bread for the ladies, my lord,” Emma said firmly. “Nothing more.”
“And you?”
She seemed surprised that he would ask. She looked up from the floor where she was untying his mother’s shoes. “Whatever you wish, my lord,” she replied, still without looking him in the eye as if she feared she was too much trouble.
He went downstairs to order dinner and noticed that Robert had not moved from his position by the gaming table. He watched the play intently, and Lord Ragsdale had to call his name several times to get his attention. Eventhen, he left the room reluctantly, with several backward glances.
“Faro is my favorite game,” he confided to his cousin as he allowed himself to be led from the room. “But vingt-et-un will do. Cousin, do you play cards?”
“Never,” Lord Ragsdale replied firmly. “I hate cards. I thought tonight that you and I would discuss your coming matriculation at Brasenose. It’s my college, you know.” He looked at his cousin virtuously. “I went to some trouble to arrange your attendance at this juncture in the term, let me assure you.”
