| |
“HOW LONG ARE WE GOING to wait for them?” Rex grumbled from the chair he was folded into at the stable house, his eyes half closed. “I want to fall asleep as soon as possible.”
“We were early. They deserve a little more time.”
“Another half an hour, then we leave. With or without the ladies.”
Clayton had no intention of leaving without them. He would wait the half hour, but if she wasn’t there yet, they would wait a little more.
“Are we late?”
Turning, Clayton saw Lady Rory and her companion approaching the waiting carriage. It was hard for him to notice much about the other woman when Lady Rory so fully captured his attention. She was wearing purple again, only this time it was a light lilac shade. Shiny pearl buttons up the front of her coat and around the collar matched the pristine white of her gloves. Her thick auburn hair was pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck and tucked neatly under a white hat, also decorated with pearls and pinned down tightly. That hair caught the light and shimmered in such vibrant reds, it was like watching the sunrise all over again.
“I suppose my idea of morning was a little later than yours.” She gave him a smile that showed those lush lips across white teeth. “We should have been more definite in our departure time. It looks like your friend has already fallen asleep.” Her hazel eyes shifted to look behind him.
When he turned, he saw Rex slumped over in the chair. “He will perk up once we are on the road. He had a late night.”
“Hmph.”
That noise drew his attention to the other woman standing with Lady Rory. She was a little older, and she had a much more reserved appearance. Her dress was yellow without any adornments, and she wore a wide-brimmed hat to match. The outfit was simple and meant to avoid drawing attention. Still, when he looked at her rounded face, her twinkling honey-colored eyes were surprising pretty, even if she was glaring at him like a headmistress.
“He looks like he was up to trouble all night.” She turned those sharp eyes on Rex.
“That’s what I do best.”
Rex must have woken up while they were talking. Now he watched their expressions as he stood up from his chair. Both women let their mouths fall open when they saw Rex standing at his full height. That was how most women reacted to a man who stood almost seven feet tall. Clayton was considered tall at a little over six but looked short beside his friend.
“Rexington Holland. Pleasure to meet you.” He bowed to the ladies. “May I help you with your bags?”
The companion was the first to snap out of his spell, and she pointed to where two large traveling bags were sitting. He would have expected them to be traveling with a lot more than that if they were planning an extended stay in the country.
“My servants are traveling with the mail post and bringing the rest of our things.” Lady Rory must have noticed the way he was looking at her bags. “I didn’t want the carriage to be too heavy.”
That was very considerate of her.
“This is my companion, Miss Darla Capshaw,” Lady Rory introduced her friend, who gave only a sharp nod as a greeting. “She tends to hold people to higher standards than she should, but she can be very sweet once she becomes comfortable.”
“Then she might find our company lacking.”
He made the joke in an attempt to put her at ease, with little success. Lady Rory stood with a rigid straightness that did not relax an inch. Her hands fidgeted with the folds of her skirt, and her gaze darted around the room nervously. Miss Capshaw at least chuckled at his humor.
“Will we be leaving soon?” Miss Capshaw asked, searching for the driver.
“Yes, I believe within a few minutes.” Clayton pointed up to where the driver was already sitting in his perch. “May I help you in?”
Lady Rory took a deep breath that relaxed her body, and that smile returned. She was eager to get into the carriage, taking Clayton by the hand and climbing in gracefully. Miss Capshaw was more reticent and pressed her lips together tightly before taking his assistance. That was an interesting difference Clayton took note of.
Being gentlemen, Clayton and Rex allowed the ladies to have the front-facing seats. Clayton had never had a queasy stomach, so riding backward didn’t bother him. It wasn’t long into their journey before he could see Rex turning white and his eyes rolling around in his head.
“Are you going to be sick, Mr. Holland?” Miss Capshaw asked, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Of course not.” His hand covered his stomach. “But perhaps we should trade seats just in case.”
The carriage was already a tight fit, so changing seats was going to be a challenge.
“Here, I can take his place,” said Lady Rory. “I’m not bothered by riding backward.”
Ignoring her companion’s protests, they switched seats quickly and with minimum fuss. Clayton found himself side by side with the lovely lady.
“Are you comfortable, Lady Rory?” he asked, attempting to give her as much space as he could with his large frame.
“Quite, but please call me Rory. I feel we will all be close friends by the end of this, and that is what they call me.”
“This is all highly improper.” Miss Capshaw’s face was so red it looked like it was ablaze. “This entire idea is improper.”
“Then it really doesn’t matter if we push it a little further by using our given names.” She turned to face him in her seat. “You may call her Darla, although I’m not sure she will answer to it.”
Lady Rory ignored her companion’s outraged expression. Darla must have to deal with Lady Rory’s rebellious nature all the time. Looking after such a headstrong young woman must have been a trial.
“Of course you may use my given name as well.”
He became aware that instead of wearing a floral scent, like most of the women he knew, she smelled like fresh baked bread. Sweet and delicious. The aroma made his mouth water a little.
“Are you hiding a loaf of bread in your purse?” Clayton joked quietly as they settled in again.
Her cheeks bloomed pink and she pulled the small bag closer to herself. “I didn’t know if there would be any place to stop for breakfast,” she whispered, darting a glance at the other two, who were not listening. “Please don’t tell the others about it.”
Clayton hadn’t expected her to actually be carrying food. “Did you not pack enough for us all?”
Now her cheeks got a little darker, indicating she had not. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of her sneaking pieces of bread when no one was looking.
“Don’t worry. There is an inn that we can stop at in a few hours. It serves a good meal.” He leaned in a little closer to speak under his breath. “I won’t give away your secret.” He gave her a wink.
Across the seat, Darla cleared her throat loudly.
“Are you feeling unwell, Darling?” Rex asked her smoothly now that the color had returned to his features.
“My name is Darla.”
“Of course, Darling.”
Rex was giving her his most flattering attention, and she acted like he was a pesky insect.
“Please don’t waste your smiles on me, Mr. Holland.”
“Rex. I prefer Rex.”
Darla was still pursing her lips with displeasure, but everyone else in the carriage was smiling.
“Rory, what takes to you Summerhill?” Clayton asked.
Rory was an unusual name, but it seemed to fit her. Clayton found it felt right on his tongue.
“I have a home there, left to me by my late aunt. I’m going up there to start making repairs to it.”
“I’m a house builder myself. I used to build some of the finest homes in Cape Town.”
“Used to?”
He cursed himself for not being more careful with his words. “My family doesn’t approve. That didn’t matter much while I was away, but now that I’ve returned...” He let his words trail off with a shrug.
“Your family lives in Chatham?”
“He is the younger brother of—” Rex chose not to finish his sentence when he saw the dark glare Clayton gave him.
“A very wealthy businessman,” Clayton said quickly. “My family wants me to follow his example, but I want to branch out on my own.”
“Is being a businessman and a house builder so very different?” Rory asked.
“I like to get my hands dirty.”
Her eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment they flickered across where his hands rested on his knees. He couldn’t help but look at his tanned skin and faint scars as well. These were not the hands of a gentleman. Thomas had commented on the roughness of them the first time they had shaken hands after Clayton was found. No doubt his mother would be disappointed by them.
“You must have been good at it. You dress well for a man in trade,” Darla commented.
“Clayton is very well-known in that part of the world. His homes are the most renowned and luxurious. People clamor just to get him to draw up designs for them,” Rex answered for him.
That was a reputation built without the help of a good family name. He’d earned it with his own mind and his bare hands.
“Why doesn’t your family approve if you have been so successful?” Darla persisted in her suspicious line of questions.
“They were not impressed with my reputation as it is only in Africa,” Clayton simply said.
“Will you continue your work in England?”
“I doubt I would be able to continue if I stayed.”
Rex gave him a look with one raised eyebrow but did not say anything. For some reason he wasn’t prepared to become Lord Clayton again and wished to remain Mr. Murdoch a bit longer. At least for the duration of their carriage ride. Rex might not understand why Clayton was lying to strangers, but he wouldn’t tell them the truth.
“Then what will you do?” Rory asked.
That was the question Clayton had been asking himself the entire trip from Cape Town. His life had changed so drastically when he had left London, but not all of it was bad. It had finally become his. Now he was coming home, but not as the same young man who had left. “I’m still trying to figure that out.”
The conversation stopped there, and the four passengers fell into quiet activities.
Rex fell asleep quickly, his head against the carriage window. Darla produced knitting from the large cloth bag in her possession. Rory appeared content to just watch the passing countryside, and Clayton was content in just watching her. He smiled when he saw the first time she snuck a piece of bread from her purse, barely outside the city. Clayton watched her until he saw both of the other two had nodded off, giving them a small amount of privacy to talk.
“Did you leave me some?” He leaned in her direction and spoke softly enough not to wake their friends.
Rory jumped a little in her seat and he could see the crumbs on her dress as they fell to the carriage floor. There was still a piece of crust in her hand, and he couldn’t help but chuckle.
“I’m sorry?”
“The bread. I was asking if I could have a piece.”
She looked down at her purse with a sheepish expression. “I’m afraid this was the last bite.”
She held up what was left of it in her hand. Without hesitation, Clayton caught her wrist and snapped up the crust she was offering. Rory gasped but didn’t pull away immediately. He released her and she pulled back slowly, watching him with wide hazel eyes framed by darkened lashes.
“Did I startle you?” Clayton asked.
“Yes.” At least she was honest.
“My apologies. I’m afraid my manners have suffered while I was away.”
Clayton could feel something between them making the air feel thicker. Her eyes grew darker, and his mouth formed a predatory smile. “Perhaps I could spend an extra day in Summerhill and take a look at your house. Give you some sound advice for improvements.”
At first she nodded slowly, but then she stopped. “No. That would be a very bad idea.” She blinked away the sleepy look in her eyes, then narrowed them at him. “You think I don’t know what you are insinuating? You think because I’m a woman traveling alone, I’m going to be easy prey?”
“Prey?” Now Clayton was confused.
“Yes. You are not the first ambitious man to think he can seduce a peer to gain status.” Rory pressed back against the seat to put some distance between them. “You can’t buy a title, so you do the next best thing. I have met many men like you in London and escaped them all.”
“Escaped?” The conversation had taken such an unexpected turn that Clayton wasn’t sure what to say. “You think I have some kind of designs on you?”
“Of course. A man like you always does.”
“What kind of man am I?”
“A social climber.”
“Really?” Clayton was stunned. That was the last thing he ever thought he would be accused of.
“You are a man who has clearly come from a respectable but peerless family, and you have returned to prove yourself to them. They might not approve of your work, so perhaps they would respect your marriage. Middle-class men always want to marry upward.”
The shock was wearing off and Clayton was growing angry. “What gave you such a negative opinion of me?”
“It’s not negative, it’s realistic. You are a working man, so you don’t have many opportunities for respectability.”
“You believe all middle or working-class men are schemers?”
“No, but most of them are.”
“The peerage isn’t?”
She let out a sigh. “They are, but they wouldn’t need to bother with me. I have very little to offer or I would have been married already.”
“So you think I’m an opportunist with low standards?”
Rory gave a hard shove against his chest. It was enough to rattle the carriage. The two that had been sleeping were surprised at the hostility they woke up to. Luckily, they reached the inn halfway to Summerhill at that moment.
The ladies took a table near the large empty fireplace and the men went to the back of the establishment. Clayton threw back a full beer as soon as it was served and asked for another. Rex watched him with wide eyes and tight lips until the second was served.
“Did something happen while I slept?” Rex asked, letting his gaze slide to where their companions were eating.
“We had a disagreement.”
Clayton sipped his second drink while he watched her from across the room. She was still flushed from their argument and talking quickly, with animated movement. He knew he must be the topic when Darla turned to shoot daggers in his direction. Let them discuss his bad behavior all they wanted. He had learned a long time ago not to be bothered by opinions.
“It looked more like a battle,” said Rex, pretending not to notice the exchange.
“Perhaps a small skirmish.”
“She looks like a formidable foe.”
“More than you know.”
Rex laughed. “I thought her friend was going to be the sour one.”
Sour is not the word Clayton would use to describe Rory, but she certainly wasn’t sweet either.
“She detests and distrusts anyone not in the peerage. She assumed I was going to take advantage of her because of my lack of rank.”
“So, you are continuing the charade as Mr. Murdoch?”
“Yes. The last thing I want is for her to find out about my brother and change her opinion of me.”
“You would rather continue the day riding in a small space with someone who detests you instead?” “
“Yes.”
Rex laughed again. “You are a strange fellow, but amusing.”