Page 43 of The Defiant Governess
“Ain’t safe for a female to travel unaccompanied,” said William doggedly. “Let me take you wherever you’re going.”
Jane shook her head. She glanced around, feeling quite low that Peter hadn’t come to say goodbye. But maybe it was better that way. She noticed that the curtains on the library were still drawn shut from the evening, but for a moment she thought she detected a slight movement there. And then she quickly looked away.
It was over.
She turned and quickly climbed into the carriage. William shut the door and climbed to his box. With a flick of the reins, he sent the team off down the drive at a brisk pace. Highwood was soon left behind.
Saybrook remainedat the library window long after the coach had disappeared. What a mull he had made of trying to declare his feelings, he thought grimly. And what a gudgeon he had been to think she would have anything but disdain for him—she had guessed the truth and thought him no better than a hardened rake! Why, she had even thought that he had wanted to make her his mistress, so badly had he expressed himself. No, not badly, he corrected himself. Cowardly. He had been afraid to say the words, afraid of ….
Lud, he hadn’t meant to kiss her, but she had seemed so in need of comfort. And for a few perfect moments, it had seemed that she had returned his feelings. How wrong he had been!
Again.
And now she was gone.
He turned his gaze to the purse now lying on his desk. She had refused it, as he feared she would. How would she get along with so little money and no position? Would she be forced to return to her father and marry? A tight knot formed in hisstomach. Well, if William carried out his orders, he would see to it that Miss Langley need not fear for anything, even though she would never willingly accept his help. In fact, if she knew of his plan her eyes would flash in indignation.
A crooked smile touched his lips at the thought of those flashing eyes, that defiant chin. Lud, he would miss her. The reality of it was just beginning to hit him. Last night he had kept himself numbed with brandy to dull the searing pain. But now, he faced the prospect of day after empty day. Only the thought of Peter—his son—kept the grief from being unbearable.
He slumped into his chair and buried his face in his hands. To his amazement, he felt tears on his cheeks. He hadn’t cried since he was in short coats. Not at his mother’s death, not even eight years ago. But he made no effort to stem their flow.
William handedJane down from the carriage. The small inn’s yard was quiet save for an ostler readying a change of horses for the mail coach. Not another passenger was in sight.
“I don’t like it, Miss,” growled William. “It’s not fitting for you to travel alone. Why don’t ye let me take ye where yer going. It’s what His Lordship wants, and te be honest, I’d be glad of a little change of scene.”
Jane smiled at him fondly. “Thank you for your concern, William, but I shall be fine. You needn’t treat me like I was some fine lady.”
“Well in my mind, ye is,” he muttered under his breath. “At least let me go in and buy yer ticket for ye. Where to?”
Jane handed him a coin. “Tunbridge Wells.”
“And then?”
“I … I shall decide that when I arrive.” she answered. In fact, she had not decided just what to do. Should she return directly home or take refuge with the Dowager Duchess, her grandmother, in London? That august lady, the only other person besides herself who was willing to stand up to the duke, would no doubt be willing to arrange atête-à-têtewith her father on neutral ground. She bit her lip. It was so hard to think about the future when all her thoughts were on the past.
William returned with her ticket and change. He took down her small trunk and stood doggedly by her side, even though she urged him to return to Highwood.
“A fine thing that would be,” he exclaimed, looking offended that she had even suggested such a thing. “Te leave ye at the mercy of Lord knows what.” He glanced around sourly, as if to confirm his notion that undesirables where lurking about.
Jane smiled and patted his arm, but secretly she was glad to have his company. She would be alone soon enough.
The mail coach lurched to a stop in front of the inn. One elderly woman clutching a large burlap sack to her chest got out, but aside from that, there was no other movement within the coach. As the ostler began to switch the teams, the coachman climbed down off his perch and rushed into the inn, no doubt to throw back a quick pint in the brief lull.
“Well, I best be getting ye in,” remarked William as he swung her trunk up to where the luggage was tied.
Jane was thankful to see the coach was only half full. She settled herself between a mother with two small children and a thin cleric who gave her no more than a desultory glance before falling back to sleep with a loud snore.
“Ye take care now, Miss.” William poked his head in through the open door.
“Thank you for everything. Goodbye.”
The door slammed. She had to fight back tears as she realized her last link to Highwood was now broken.
William watched the coach rumble away down the road. Miss hadn’t made it easy, but he wouldn’t fail His Lordship. Tunbridge Wells it was, and from there he would have no difficulty in finding out her next destination. He motioned for an ostler to take the marquess’s carriage into the stables. A saddle horse had already been hired from the landlord at the same time he purchased Miss Langley’s ticket. He should arrive at Tunbridge Wells well ahead of the coach. With a grim smile he swung into the saddle. He would take good care of the young miss—he remembered the look on Saybrook’s face when he had received his orders—or it would be his own head on a platter.
Saybrook was rousedfrom his misery by the sound of agitated voices in the hallway. “No ma’am,” exclaimed the parlormaid. “He told me he was going to be with His Lordship. I thought …”
“Yes, of course,” answered Mrs. Fairchild. “But I’m sure he isn’t in there. Have you sent to the stables?”
