Page 23 of Her Wicked Highwayman
“Heavens no.” She shook her head, widening her eyes and pretending to be truly surprised. “They simply rode off and left me alone in the woods. I wandered around for a few hours, got turned around, and when I found the main road I was able to walk back here yesterday morning.”
“You walked all night?” Poor, sweet Claude looked devastated at the thought.
She patted his hand. The last thing she needed to deal with was a weepy young lad. “I slept for several hours in a field. It was not so terrible,” she said.
“A field?” Claude nearly squawked. “A gentle lady sleeping in a field? It’s not to be borne,” the young man growled, trying to communicate his protectiveness to her. Diana nearly laughed. Claude’s little growl might as well have been a mew. She had a different growl burned into her memory. A growl of pleasure and satisfaction as a particular masked man sank deep into her body.
Her face flamed at the wild, scandalous memory of how she’d given her body and soul to him. Could anyone blame her? Tyburn’s rumbling voice, made rough with that rich Scottishbrogue, had captivated her. And the way his blue eyes had gazed upon her as though she were his entire world? No woman could resist that sort of seduction.
“Nowoman should be made to sleep in a field, gentle-born or not,” she said. Claude blinked at her, clearly not understanding what she meant. “My back is no more delicate than a scullery maid’s.”
Claude’s lips parted and his brows rose. “Surely you jest, Miss Fox? It’s just that a lady such as yourself could not be... That is, you are not used to that which a scullery maid might...”
Good Lord, did he truly think gentle-born women were different than other women?
“Shall we return to moreimportantmatters?” Caddington shot the poor lad a quelling look. “Now, Miss Fox, can you tell us anything about these men? Their faces, their accents, their names perhaps?”
“I...” She didn’t want to say anything, but she was going to have to say something because Claude and Edwin had heard the men use names.
“As I told you, Lord Caddington, my father and I heard two of the men were called Tyburn and Oxford,” Claude said proudly. “I believe Tyburn is a Scot, based on his accent, and Oxford might be Irish.”
“Yes, that sounds correct,” Diana agreed. “You must forgive me—I forgot such details. I was simply so frightened, you see, that my mind quite blanked.”
Caddington narrowed his eyes. “Yes, it is regrettable that females are so delicate.” The way he saiddelicatemade her skin crawl. She shuddered to think what had made him form such a low opinion of women, given that most women she knew were strong in both mind and body.
“If I recall any other details, where should I write to you, Lord Caddington?” She had no intention of writing to him, butshe had to play the charade correctly; otherwise, he might sense her deception.
He handed her a calling card with his name and the name of his estate. “You may write to me here.” It was about ten miles from Foxglove, and she was thankful it was no closer.
“Well, since the young lady is not injured, we should leave her to her day.” Edwin cleared his throat and gave his son a meaningful look. “You’re to call on Miss Appleyard this afternoon, remember?”
Claude’s face fell as he shot a sheepish look at Diana. “May I call upon you tomorrow, Miss Fox?”
“Oh, that isn’t—” she began, but she was cut off by Edwin.
“I’msureMiss Fox has much to do, and you have made your promise to another young lady.” Edwin cleared his throat.
So she was not an appropriate lady for Edwin’s son? Diana was both relieved and insulted. She may be penniless, but the Foxes were a noble line that went back more than three hundred years.
“Father...” Claude almost sounded like a whining child.
Edwin sent a stony look at his son, then turned to Diana. “We are relieved you are well, Miss Fox, but we really must take our leave.”
Diana rose and lightly curtsied to him. “Of course, Mr. Fellows. I understand.” She let Claude’s father know in her tone that she had heard his warning.
Claude reached once more for her hand. He bowed over her knuckles as he kissed her fingers. He stilled and frowned.
“Are these calluses?” he asked. She pulled her hand away, shame heating her cheeks. Damnation, she wasn’t supposed to let anyone see. Now she had to come up with yet another bloody lie.
“What? Oh yes, from riding. I often forget to wear gloves.” She was building a cathedral of lies, and she feared for the day when they would crumble around her.
A typical day for Diana included carrying buckets of water and coal. She scrubbed the floors on her hands and knees alongside the maids. She broke her back almost every day to keep this house—her home—working.
“I see. You must remember to wear gloves, Miss Fox. It is so very important to have smooth hands. You wouldn’t want any gentleman courting you to think you are working in the fields.” Claude admonished her as though she were a child. If only he knew what she did every day. She’d wager she was twice as strong as he was after all of the work she’d done these last few years.
It made her want to cuff the lad’s ears for his presumption, but instead she once again summoned up a pleasant smile from the depths of heaven-knows-where.
“You’re quite right, of course. I shall endeavor to do better, Mr. Fellows. Please allow me to escort you to the door.” She kept her smile in place as they exited the sitting room. Mr. Peele opened the front door for them, and her grooms already had their horses waiting.
