Page 71 of Gallant Waif
“In that case, ma’am, I shall fetch your carriage at once!” said Francis, bowing like a flunkey. Kate giggled as he left the cottage, bowing repeatedly like a Cit facing royalty.
She turned to find Jack leaning against the wall, glowering at her. “Must you flirt with him so early in the morning?”
Kate flushed and looked away. She felt his gaze scorching her.
“I wasn’t flirting.” Her heart plummeted.
Jack grunted disbelievingly.
Kate turned her back on him and walked to the open door and looked out. There was nothing she could do. He would think whatever he wished to. She could not change his mind. She shivered in the bitter cold and folded her arms against her chest then jumped as a heavy coat was dropped over her shoulders from behind.
“Here,” he said curtly. “Wrap this around you.”
The coat was still warm and smelled faintly of him. Kate didn’t move. She felt his hands coming over her shoulders, tugging the coat more firmly around her. She tried to shrug it off. “No, no. I don’t need—”
“Don’t be so stupid,” he growled. Strong hands came down on her shoulders and turned her around. She looked up at him, but he concentrated on buttoning the coat firmly over her.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
He glanced at her briefly, a hard, unreadable look, muttered something under his breath, then pushed past her and went to help Francis with the horses.
He was limping heavily, she realised with dismay—his leg must be paining him dreadfully. White lines of pain were back around his mouth, deeper than they had been for months—he had hurt himself rescuing her. She wanted to run after him, do something, but she knew she could not. Hadn’t she done enough? He was clearly embarrassed by that morning kiss, and angry with her because of it, or why would he be so cross with her for responding to Francis’s nonsense? Although pain did nothing for anyone’s temper.
The carriage arrived. Francis acted as driver, and the two horses he and Jack had ridden were tied behind. Kate got in and waited while Jack and Francis had a brief altercation about who was to drive. Eventually Jack conceded, but said in a surly manner that he would sit up with Francis.
“Don’t be ridiculous, man,” said Francis acerbically. “Your leg is in no condition to be climbing up here and, in any case, you haven’t got a coat and you’ll freeze in this weather. Now shut up and get into the carriage before Kate thinks you have conceived a distaste for her company.”
Kate swallowed. Francis had been joking, but he had inadvertently hit the nail on the head. Jack didn’t want to be in the carriage with her. It was obvious.
Jack climbed into the carriage. Kate gazed out of the window.
Wordlessly he seated himself and stared moodily out of the opposite one.
They travelled the short distance to the next village in silence and pulled up before a small, neat inn. The innkeeper looked them over with a practised eye, taking in their crumpled clothing, the men’s unshaven chins, Kate’s loosely tied-back hair, and a knowing look crept over his ruddy features.
“Two chambers, landlord, if you would be so good,” drawled Francis. “One for myself and my friend and the other for…my sister.”
Kate flushed at the landlord’s glance. He clearly disbelieved the tale and took her for quite another sort of female. She put her chin up proudly, defying him to judge her.
Jack had noted the exchange. “Mywifewill want hot water and a maid to assist her,” he snapped. “Her maid and our coachman were injured in the accident we had last night. We have no time to delay, landlord. Shall we say breakfast in forty minutes? Oh, and hot water for my friend and myself as well and shaving implements.”
The landlord responded to the haughty tone of command and leapt to obey, calling his wife to come and help the young lady, a look of deepest obsequiousness replacing the sleazy gleam.
Kate blinked.His wife?She sighed. Sister, wife—it was all the same—a tale fabricated to protect her non-existent reputation. She followed the landlord’s wife upstairs in silence.
After a hearty, though not exactly jolly breakfast, during which Francis and Kate chatted while Jack ate in morose silence, they set off again. Mile after mile passed in uncomfortable silence, both passengers brooding and thoughtful. The impasse continued until the countryside began to look familiar.
Kate finally spoke. “You didn’t need to tell that man that I was your wife, you know. Francis’s sister would have been quite sufficient.”
“That’s all you know,” snapped Jack. So she would rather appear as Francis’s sister than as Jack’s wife, would she? Had this morning meant nothing, then? Women! He would never understand them.
“What do you mean?” asked Kate.
“Well, after last night, you’ll have to marry one of us, and as you slept in my arms the whole night it might as well be me,” he snarled ungraciously. Oh, God, he thought. I’ve botched it. I hadn’t meant to put it like that. Oh, you fool, fool, fool!
Kate went white. So that was why he was in such a furious temper. It wasn’t his leg or her so-called flirting with Francis at all. He thought she had trapped him into marriage.
“I don’t see that there is any need to marry you at all,” she said. “After all, nothing happened.”
