Page 3 of A Scandalous Proposition
‘Oh, I…well, that is, I?’
‘How did you arrive at this inn, Mrs Smith?’
‘On the stagecoach. And most uncomfortable it was too. An odious little man insisted upon carrying a cage full of pigeons inside the conveyance, regaling us at nauseating length about the amount of money he’d get for them at market. The wretched creatures didn’t stop squawking the entire time.’
‘Cooing.’
‘I beg your pardon.’
‘Pigeons coo, Mrs Smith. They don’t squawk.’
‘I beg to differ. I was subjected to their squawking for an interminable time and so know what I’m talking about.’
Adam tried not to laugh. ‘Then I bow to your superior knowledge.’
‘Not that I blame them, mind. The pigeons, that is. They obviously knew they were destined for some gentleman’s table. I felt like squawking protests of my own on their behalf.’
Adam smiled. ‘The man would have paid the driver a few extra pence to keep the birds from being strapped to the roof, from which they might easily have fallen.’
‘Well, I would have paid him more still to persuade him to release them.’ She tossed her head. ‘Wild creatures ought not to be caged.’
Adam wondered about her passionate defence of a few insignificant birds, suspecting there was a great deal more behind her protestations than mere sympathy. ‘You travelled from London, presumably.’ She nodded. ‘And your brother, did he accompany you?’
‘No, indeed not.’ She shuddered. ‘I believe he followed me on horseback.’
‘And now he’s ridden off in pursuit of the stagecoach in the expectation of finding you aboard it.’
‘Yes.’ She spoke the one word with considerable satisfaction. ‘And, if there’s any justice in this world, the heavens will open and he’ll be drenched to the skin.’
‘We can but hope.’ Adam contemplated her for a moment before speaking again. ‘And when your brother discovers that you’re not a passenger on that conveyance, what do you imagine he’ll do then?’ He observed the fear creeping back into her expression when the answer struck home. ‘I don’t anticipate it will take him long to overtake the public coach if he’s equipped with a fast horse.’
‘No, probably not.’ Her lovely eyes were once again full of apprehension. ‘And then, I suppose, he’ll realise he’s been misled and immediately return here to seek me out.’
‘Then we’d best ensure that you’re not here for him to find. Where were you intending to go, once you reached Portsmouth?’
‘To Oakley Common.’
The bustling market town on the outskirts of Portsmouth, not three miles from Southsea Court, was the very town where Adam intended to spend the night.
‘Then if you don’t mind riding behind me, I’ll be glad to take you there myself.’
Adam expected her to put up objections to such an unorthodox suggestion but once again she surprised him. With a riotous smile that caused havoc with his equilibrium, she thanked him and immediately agreed.
‘I’ve caused you a vast amount of trouble, Major,’ she said, enchanting him with her lilting accent. ‘I’m indebted to you for your kindness.’
‘Not at all.’ Adam, still unbalanced by his reaction to her lovely smile, waved her thanks aside. ‘But, in all this confusion, my manners have been amiss and I’ve forgotten to introduce myself. Allow me to put that matter right.’ He sketched an elegant bow. ‘Major Adam Fitzroy at your service, ma’am.’
‘Fitzroy?’ She started violently, as though the name meant something to her, even though he hadn’t added the title that would be familiar to any native of these parts.
‘Now, if you’re ready to leave, it remains only for us to devise a means of getting you out of here undetected.’
*
Florentina Grantley clung tightly to Adam Fitzroy’s waist as his stallion covered the ground at breakneck speed, aware that she’d merely replaced one awkward situation with another. Major Fitzroy had rescued her from Reynolds’s ubiquitous clutches, that was undeniable, but what was she now supposed to do about the major? If she’d known who he was from the outset, it would have been a different matter and she wouldn’t have hesitated to give him her real name. But by the time she found out who he actually was, he was intent upon spiriting her away from the inn and there was no time for her to think the matter through. Or to hit upon a plausible reason for giving a false name in the first place.
Damnation, this was the sort of complication she could well do without.
She knew Fitzroy’s stallion well and had only just stopped herself from blurting out his name when the major collected her from the thicket where she’d concealed herself. The stallion was often turned out to pasture on his own, and she was touched by the way he seemed to look off into the distance, as though waiting for someone. The grooms deemed Rochester an irascible beast whom only his master could handle, but she’d built up quite a rapport with him over the months. She often visited him in his paddock, taking him apples and sharing her innermost thoughts with him in one-sided conversations the horse appeared to understand.
