Bachelor Duke. Mary Nichols

his tall riding hat, was fair and curled into his neck. Her heart gave a wild leap as he looked towards her, but the glance was only momentary before he turned away to speak to one of the uniformed officers, almost as if she were invisible. Perhaps she was. She felt suddenly forlorn and dowdy in her brown cloak and straw bonnet with its black ribbons.

      ‘I suppose they have come to meet the King,’ Lady Myers said. ‘And we shall be left to lag behind as we were before.’

      ‘It certainly looks like it, ‘her husband agreed. ‘I am come to think that it was not a good idea to attach ourselves to his entourage. I am very sorry to have suggested it, my love.’

      ‘Let us go into the hotel and have some refreshment,’ she said. ‘Perhaps by the time we are rested the crowd will have dispersed and we can continue our journey in peace.’

      Lord Myers led the way, but they were stopped from entering by the same gentleman Sophie had noticed earlier, who had evidently seen their intent and hurried to intercept them. ‘I am sorry, sir, ladies,’ he said politely but firmly. ‘But you cannot enter, not until his Royal Highness and the King leave.’

      ‘Why not?’ Sophie demanded. ‘It is an inn, is it not, and bound by law to provide refreshment?’

      He turned towards her. The brown cloak and the plain bonnet did not indicate a young lady of substance; she was probably the older lady’s companion, someone who was supposed to melt into the background, a shadow of her employer, but the sharp rejoinder and the bright eyes told him she did not enjoy her role. Those eyes were blazing defiance, but at the same time there was in their brown depths a hint of doubt. She was sure of her facts, but not of her position. It made her seem vulnerable. On the other hand, he could not allow her to dictate to him. His job was to protect his royal employer and he would be failing in his duty to allow anyone to cross the threshold. Assassins—those who wished the Regent ill, and there were many—could be female as well as male.

      ‘Indeed, miss, but the needs of his Highness must be met first.’

      ‘Then where are we to go?’ Lady Myers put in before Sophie could make matters worse by insisting on entering. ‘We have come off the packet and need refreshment before continuing our journey.’

      ‘Then let me direct you to the garden at the rear. There are tables and chairs there. I will ask Captain Summers to request the landlord to bring you cushions and refreshments. I am sorry I must deny myself the pleasure of conducting you myself, but my duties do not allow me to leave the escort.’ He turned and beckoned to a young officer and spoke briefly to him before bowing and returning to the carriage, just as two very fat gentlemen waddled out of the inn and made for the Prince’s coach.

      ‘My, is that the Regent?’ Sophie whispered, recognising the other as the one-time Comte de Provence, now King of France.

      ‘Yes, it is,’ Captain Summers, who was young and cheerful, answered her as the coach creaked ominously when the pair were helped into it. ‘I am afraid you are bound to be delayed if London is your destination. There is quite a procession and it will not be travelling very quickly.’

      ‘Oh, we are becoming used to it,’ Sophie told him.

      They watched the procession set off: the Horse Guards, outriders, carriages containing the royal retinue and, last of all, the state carriage drawn by eight cream horses, its occupants smiling and waving to the crowds who seemed singularly disinterested. Behind and a little to one side rode the handsome aide who had so taken Sophie’s attention, riding a magnificent black stallion. He looked about him as he rode as if expecting trouble.

      ‘You may enter the inn now,’ Captain Summers said, conducting them inside. ‘Regretfully I must leave you and take up my position in the cavalcade.’ He touched his tall hat in salute and strode away to where his horse was tethered.

      ‘What a fuss!’ Lady Myers said as they found their way to the dining room. ‘My Lord, let us stay here until they are well on their way, for I should be mortified to be too close behind those two pretentious coxcombs. We might be mistaken for one of the party.’

      His lordship agreed and, in a way, so did Sophie, who had been less than impressed by the two rulers. On the other hand, the gentleman on the black stallion and the young captain of the Horse Guards were much more interesting, especially the taller one; she would not mind following on behind him. If only she was not dressed so shabbily, if only she had a little more aplomb, she might have smiled at him and then, instead of looking straight through her, which he had done, even when addressing her, he might have smiled back… She shocked herself to think she could have such improper thoughts and quickly turned her attention to her host, who was reciting the bill of fare in a swift gabble as if he could not wait to be rid of all his guests and have a little peace and quiet. She must remember she was in England now and must behave with the decorum Lady Myers expected of her. And that meant not challenging authority. If she wanted the Duke to give her a roof over her head—she could not call it a home, having no idea if it could ever be that—she must curb her tongue and be meek and docile. Any rebellious or unladylike thoughts and opinions must be kept for her book.

      Chapter Two

      Sophie woke up the next morning, wondering where she was. It was much more sumptuous than her room in Naples. She sat up and looked about her. The sun was shining through lightweight curtains and she could make out solid furniture; besides the big bed there was a washstand, a wardrobe, a dressing table, another small table in the window flanked by two chairs and a couple of cupboards in the fireplace recess. A clock on the mantel told her it was half past ten. She had not slept so late in years! She scrambled from the bed, padded across the thick carpet and drew back the curtains to find herself looking out on a busy street. Not Naples, not Paris, but London.

      It all came back to her then: the long, exhausting journey by land and sea, the slow progress behind the Regent’s procession, which they had come up with only an hour after leaving Dover. The Regent was either very vain or very stubborn because he had insisted on stopping to greet his people, even when they were only a half a dozen on a street corner who looked to Sophie as if they had only been waiting to cross the road. Whenever they stopped the tall equerry was in evidence, shepherding people away from the royal carriages, looking about for trouble, trying his best to keep the cavalcade moving. Sophie wondered what his name was and if he had a title and decided he must be a lord at the very least. In her imagination she dubbed him Lord Ubiquitous because he seemed to be everywhere. No doubt if anything bad befell his charges, he would have to answer for it.

      He had controlled his horse with consummate skill, was polite if a little frosty to the people around him and smiled when speaking to the Regent and his guest. Not for a moment had he shown any sign of impatience, but somehow Sophie sensed it was there, carefully hidden. It revealed itself in the way he carried himself, in small gestures, in the lifted eyebrows to Captain Summers when his Highness insisted on stopping. On one occasion the Regent had beckoned to a little urchin playing in the dirt and given him some small token, though the child seemed to have no idea what to do with it. Lord Ubiquitous had leaned down from his mount and whispered something, which made the boy laugh and he had run off, clutching his prize.

      There had been no possibility of overtaking the royal carriages, so Lord Myers had instructed the coachman, hired at Dover, to stay well back, and Sophie was able to look about her. The countryside was verdant, the sun had a gentle warmth, not the uncomfortable heat of Naples. There were people working in the fields, plodding behind working horses. In the meadows cattle grazed and young lambs trotted behind their mothers, bleating for attention. This was the England she remembered, the England her mother had yearned for all the years of her exile. Was that why it felt so much like coming home?

      London, when they reached it, was packed, just as Paris had been. Rich and poor jostled each other, carriages vied for space with carts, and the noise of it all assailed her ears: grinding wheels, ringing hooves, neighing horses and voices, some high-pitched, some raucous. When the crowd saw who sat in the grand carriages smiling and waving fat beringed hands at them, they were openly hostile. Sophie heard one wag shout, ‘Where’s your wife?’ And this was echoed by others until it became