Runaway Miss. Mary Nichols

a hearty breakfast. Emma was surprised how hungry she was. Perhaps it was the effect of the high emotion of the past few hours, or perhaps because she had missed supper at Almack’s while she had been in the ladies’ room contemplating her reflection and had eaten nothing since six o’clock the previous evening.

      Alex watched her, a faint smile playing about his lips. ‘Do you travel beyond Manchester, Miss Draper?’

      The last thing she wanted was to be quizzed on her destination, but she could hardly refuse to answer without appearing uncivil. ‘Yes, we are going to the Lake District.’

      ‘What a happy coincidence. So am I. Which lake in particular?’

      ‘I am not sure there is a lake. I am to be met at Kendal to take up a position as companion to a lady.’ For a spur-of-the-moment answer she thought it did very well, though she prayed he would not ask any other questions. To prevent that, she asked one of her own. ‘Where are you bound, my lord?’

      ‘To Windermere. I have an uncle there. I used to stay with him when I was a boy, but it is many years since I visited him.’

      ‘I expect you were prevented by your being in the army.’

      ‘Yes. I was out of the country from ’09 to ’14 and I had barely been home six months when I was recalled to go to Waterloo.’

      ‘I believe that was a prodigious gory battle. I heard the Duke of Wellington called it a close-run thing.’

      He smiled, knowing perfectly well what she was at and prepared to humour her. If he wanted his curiosity about her satisfied, he would have other opportunities. ‘Yes, he did and it was certainly that.’

      ‘Did you sustain any injury yourself?’

      ‘Fortunately, no.’

      ‘And now you are home again and ready to resume your civilian life. No doubt you find it strange.’

      ‘Indeed, I do. I am fortunate in having a home and occupation to return to. Many others are not so lucky.’

      ‘Occupation, my lord?’ she queried.

      ‘An estate to run. I have recently come into my inheritance.’

      ‘And is that in the Lakes?’

      ‘No, in Norfolk.’

      ‘You are a long way from home, my lord.’

      He laughed. ‘Is that meant as a criticism, Miss Draper?’

      She blushed furiously. ‘Oh, no, I would not dare…I beg your pardon. My mother always used to say I had too much curiosity.’

      ‘I forgive you. And so that you do not run away with the idea that I shirk my duty—’

      ‘Oh, I never would!’

      ‘I will tell you that my uncle is ill and wishes to see me. Once I have satisfied myself as to his return to good health, I shall go home.’

      ‘Not back to the London Season?’

      ‘No, I do not think so, I find it not to my taste.’ The evening before he had returned with his aunt from Lady Melbourne’s to find a message from his mother telling him his uncle, Admiral Lord Bourne, was very ill and wanted to see him. He had always been close to his Uncle Henry, closer than to his father, and had corresponded with him throughout his years in the army and so he had made preparations to take the early morning coach north. He had sent a message to his new steward to go at once to Buregreen to make a start on the work of the estate and written a letter to his mother telling her he was leaving for the north at once and would write again as soon as he arrived. Joe was told to pack and make sure he was awake in good time to catch the stage.

      He did not need his own carriage while he was in London and staying with his aunt, so the family carriage had been left at Buregreen for his mother’s use and was not available. Besides, the stage, with its facility for the frequent changing of horses, would have him there all the quicker. He hadn’t bargained for riding outside, but he could hardly let two young women sit on the roof while he sat in comfort inside.

      Both girls had finished eating, so he beckoned the waiter to pay the bill.

      ‘Oh, my lord, we cannot allow you to buy our breakfast, can we, Rose?’

      Rose didn’t see why not, but she dutifully answered, ‘No, my—’ She stopped herself just in time and quickly added, ‘—Goodness, no.’

      ‘If you think I am such a pinchpenny as to invite two ladies to eat with me and then expect them to pay, you are mistaken, madam.’

      ‘And if you think I am to be bought, then you are the one in error, my lord.’

      Instead of being affronted, he laughed. She was no plain everyday companion. She had been brought up a gentlewoman, or something very near it. He was on the point of taxing her with it, but changed his mind. It would provide a little entertainment on a long, tedious journey to watch how she went on and how long she could keep it up. ‘I do not want to buy you, Miss Draper. To be sure, I have no use for a lady’s companion. Now let us call a truce.’ He handed the waiter a handful of coins, telling him to keep the change, which pleased the fellow no end and he went off smiling.

      Emma, seeing how much it was, turned pale. If all meals on the way were as expensive as that, her money would never last the distance and her pearls would have to go. It would break her heart to part with them, the last reminder of her father. She had loved him dearly and she knew her mother had too. Oh, why did he have to go and die? And why did her mother have to go and marry that horrible Sir George Tasker? Was that why she was so sharp with Viscount Malvers, when it certainly was not his fault?

      ‘My lord, I beg your pardon. A truce it is and my gratitude with it.’

      ‘Then let us go back to the coach. I heard them calling for passengers two minutes ago.’ He stood up and was about to pull out her chair for her and offer his arm, but stopped himself. A lady’s companion would not expect such a courtesy and he ought to maintain the pretence until such time as she admitted it was a pretence.

      They trooped out to the coach, he saw the ladies safely in and then resumed his seat on the roof beside his man. Joe Bland had been his batman almost the whole of his army career and on being discharged was happy to continue to serve him. They had been through so much together, he was more friend than servant. Now he was grinning.

      ‘Pray share the jest,’ Alex commanded him.

      ‘The Long Meg,’ Joe said. ‘If she’s a lady’s maid, I’ll eat my hat.’

      ‘She said companion, not maid.’

      ‘What’s the difference?’

      ‘A companion is something above a maid. Not exactly a servant, but not family either. She is what the name implies, a companion. Such a position usually falls to the lot of spinsters who are gentlewomen but have to earn a living, for one reason or another. The death of the family breadwinner, perhaps, and no likelihood of finding a husband. Their duties are to run errands, fetch and carry, and stay meekly in the background. I doubt they are allowed much time to themselves.’

      ‘Hmm. Can’t see that one running errands for anyone. I’ll wager half a crown she’s a runaway and, if she is, you could find yourself in a coil for aiding and abetting, my lord.’

      ‘What you really mean is that you begrudge your inside seat.’

      ‘No, Major. I’ve travelled in many worse ways, as you very well know. But she’s not what she seems, though I think she is in the way of winding you round her thumb.’

      ‘Never! No woman will ever do that to me. But I’ll wager you are as curious as I am.’

      ‘Mayhap. I could try and find out from the other one. Now, she is a servant, I’ll lay odds.’

      ‘You are probably right, unless the pair of them are putting on a little entertainment for our benefit. I propose to go along with it