Chapter Five
Alban, who’d got bored drinking alone before he’d got anywhere near the desired state of total oblivion, rose early the morning after the ball, and quietly let himself out of Will’s house.
He knew what he had to do. He would ride out to Roseley, look in on Nick’s children and see that they were safe and well fed. And then he’d find old Johnstone, the solicitor—or his successor—and find out his legal position with regard to the children.
Not that he had any intention of coming home, whether or not he could. On the contrary, as soon as he put these wheels in motion, he meant to return to his ship. According to Barnaby, his capable lieutenant and navigator, repairs were going well, so The Albatross could be back in the water tomorrow, or even later today.
At all events, Alban had had enough of Blackhaven. It was past time to leave, for his wits were clearly addled. It was not remotely like him to begin falling for a respectable, sickly lady, no matter how beautiful, sweet, and funny she might be. That she was the Duke of Kelburn’s daughter merely put the icing on the cake of his folly. Vengeance might have been amusing, of course. It certainly provided him with an excuse to pursue her. But he’d known last night at the Assembly Room door that he couldn’t hurt her, so there was only one thing left for him to do.
He was familiar with the pangs of regret and loneliness. He knew from experience that they would pass. So, he merely ignored them as always, and strode out to the livery stable where he’d arranged the hire of a horse for the day.
Here, he was introduced to Pegasus, a decent looking animal reputed to be fleet of foot, already saddled, bridled, and ready to go. He was just about to mount when a woman’s voice filtered through to him. Bella Niven had clearly got too far under his skin, for it sounded just like her.
“I can see he’s a very nice pony, and I do not wish to insult him,” she said gravely. “But you must admit he is fat, elderly, and indolent. I suspect it will take us until midday to get out of Blackhaven, and I need to have returned from my errand by then.”
Alban lowered his hands from Pegasus’s saddle and turned to gaze across the yard at the woman, the pony, and the stable employee who was clearly trying to fob her off.
“Well, without notice, ma’am, there’s no other suitable mount available.”
She looked small and insignificant in the old travelling cloak he had first seen her in. But she was wearing spectacles. Clearly, she had managed to extract them from whichever aunt had confiscated them. So today she could see. She was in no obvious danger.
Alban knew he should walk away, keep to his original decision. Instead, he turned to the groom who’d presented him with Pegasus.
“You,” he ordered as the man began to walk away. “Make sure the lady is given a suitable mount and take the donkey back to its stable.”
Immediately looking worried, the groom began to jog across the yard while Alban vaulted into his saddle.
But it seemed he’d misjudged Lady Bella.
“The brown mare there will be quite adequate,” she said firmly. There was no stridency, no threat in her voice, but she did not back down when the employee tried to stare her out. Belatedly, he obviously came to the conclusion that she was not of the rank to be trifled with, and snapped at the approaching groom to saddle Betsy.
Interesting. They would have fallen over themselves to give Lady Arabella Niven whatever she wanted immediately. She wouldn’t have had to fight for it. So, clearly, she had not divulged her identity. What was she up to?
He truly had meant to ride straight past her. Instead, he walked Pegasus across the yard until their large shadow fell completely across her.
She glanced up. Her eyes widened with surprise and her hand rose as though involuntarily, pressing into the base of her neck. Her color heightened, and yet her smile was spontaneous and open. And God help him, she was even more appealing in the spectacles.
“Captain Alban.”
“Ma’am,” he returned gravely, preserving her anonymity. “You would appear to have no attendant with you.”
“That is true.” She gave another quick, fugitive smile. “It is another escape.”
“One a day is a decent average.” He didn’t have time to escort her on expeditions of pleasure. Nor could he take her with him. On the other hand, he didn’t know how far she planned to go without protection of any kind. “In which direction do you plan to ride?”
“Toward Silton.” She hesitated, then added. “I’m meeting someone there. A solicitor.”
He made a last effort to talk himself out of it, reminding himself of his decision last night and all the reasons behind it. But in the end, he knew he’d never meant to do anything else from the moment he’d seen her here alone.
“I’m going in the same direction. Allow me to escort you.”
He thought her fading flush returned, but he couldn’t be sure, since a brown mare was led from the stables at that moment and she moved toward it. Alban cast a critical eye over the animal and decided she would do. It appeared the duke’s daughter also knew her horseflesh.
Although she hadn’t answered him, he held the impatient Pegasus in check until the groom boosted her into the saddle. Beneath the cloak, he saw that she wore a rather fine, burgundy riding habit, but she drew the cloak around her again immediately. She wished to remain incognito.
“You know the country better than I,” she observed as he took the right fork out of town. “I had to ask for directions.”
“What makes you think I didn’t? What are you up to, Lady Bella?”
Endearingly, she didn’t dissemble in the slightest, merely said, “I have your word you won’t speak of this to anyone just yet? Even if you believe it is for my own good?”
“Of course you have my word. For what it’s worth.”
Ignoring that, she said in a rush. “I am going to look at a cottage near Silton. It sounds ideal for my purpose, and I feel I could manage a house much more easily than a yacht.”
He nodded. “And the solicitor is meeting you at this cottage?”
“Precisely. So you may leave me comfortably in his care. I daresay we will return to Blackhaven together.”
“Won’t that give away your purpose before you’re ready? Or by the time you sign the contract to take the cottage, will you no longer care for secrecy?”
“I haven’t decided yet. If I don’t want it—and I would be foolish to immediately take the first I see without at least thinking about it very carefully—I wouldn’t want to be prevented looking at others.”
He nodded, but regarded her with some curiosity. “If they could prevent you looking, couldn’t they just prevent you living in it?”
She thought about that. “I don’t believe they could. If I had a home to defend, I could dig my heels in quite forcefully. I don’t believe even my father would order the servants to carry me out.”
“What of your brothers?”
“I suppose they might do it themselves,” she allowed. “But I have other ways of dealing with brothers.”
“I’m sure you do,” he said, amused. “In fact, I’m beginning to think you have ways of dealing with everyone. How did you persuade your aunt to return the spectacles?”
She flushed a little, as though just remembering them, and touched one nervous finger to the metal bridge across her nose. “I saw them in Aunt Sarah’s bedchamber and just picked them up. They are mine, after all.”
“Of course they are. And it would be a shame to take your cottage if you couldn’t actually see the woodworm. Or the mice.”
“I am persuaded it has neither,” she said firmly, urging Betsy to a trot, and then a canter. He left the road, cutting across the countryside, heading for the valley that passed between the hills, and she followed him trustingly.
For a little, they galloped hard, allowing the horses their heads. Her smile of pure pleasure delighted him. He wondered if he’d ever tire of watching her ever-changing expressions, and something deep within him began to ache.
They slowed over the more difficult ground that led up to the rise, and she paused to look back at the view spreading down to the sea.
“I wish I could paint,” she said with a sigh.
“You’re just appreciating your spectacles.”
She laughed. “I am. The world is so much more imposing when it’s sharp.”
As one, they rode on and rejoined the road. The cottage she’d arranged to look at was easily found on the edge of Silton, for a small, balding man stood outside the garden gate consulting his pocket watch in an anxious kind of way.
“Mr. Morley,” she said in delight. “Oh, the house is charming!”
The house was tiny. Just looking at it made Alban feel trapped. But it was pretty, with a small, neat garden at the front.
“Mrs. Nieve,” the blading man said, bowing slightly. He looked relieved. “I’m so glad your husband has accompanied you. My name is Morley, sir.”
Alban, who had just dismounted, reached up to help Bella, who was blushing a fiery red. Her mouth was open, clearly ready to disabuse Mr. Morley about their relationship.
“Nieve,” Alban informed him, while he raised one eyebrow for Bella’s benefit.
She closed her mouth and allowed herself to be lifted from the saddle. He tied their horses to the garden fence, which looked too frail to hold them if they chose to wander.
“This way, if you please,” Mr. Morley said, hurrying up the garden path.
“Nieve?” Alban murmured, ushering her after him.
“Well I was about to give my own name when it struck me he might recognize it, so I stopped half-way.”
“Very discreet,” he agreed.
“Are you laughing at me, sir?”
“You know I never laugh,” he assured her, and they followed Mr. Morley inside.
To Alban, it looked dark, even with the shutters thrown wide. It had a small parlor and dining room and a decent sized kitchen with a tiny alcove for the maid. Upstairs were two bedchambers and a box room.
“I’ll leave you to look around for five minutes,” Mr. Morley said, glancing at his fob watch once more. “And then I must lock up and be on my way.”
“Ah. Are you returning to Blackhaven, sir?” Bella asked.
“Gracious, no. I have business at Gorse Farm. Excuse me.” He bustled off again.
Alban peered out of the bedchamber window. The view was obscured by trees. “What would you do here by yourself?” he asked. “After the novelty of solitude had worn off.”
“I would write my book,” she said, surprising him all over again. “Maybe several books.”
“What kind of books?” he asked, shifting restlessly.
“I am writing a history of my family, going back to the fifteenth century. It’s quite a fascinating story! They were a wild lot, not in the least like my contemporary family!” She paused. “Well, except Seb and Harry perhaps. My younger brothers.”
“You must tell me more about it. Would you be comfortable here?”
“It’s cozy,” she said enthusiastically. Then her shoulders fell. “It’s rather gloomy, isn’t it? And the rooms are quite cramped, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do,” he said, relieved, for he didn’t like to think of her living here. “There will be more suitable houses for you.”
“It’s true I’ve only just begun my search,” she said, clearly disappointed. “But the longer I take, the more likely I am to be found out and stopped.”
“Does it have to be around Blackhaven?” he asked, walking to the door and holding it open for her.
“No,” she allowed, passing him into the tiny hallway. “It could be anywhere. But normally I’m only ever in Kelburn or Sussex for long periods of time, and though I have much more freedom to look there, everyone knows me.”
“Thus defeating the object.”
“Exactly,” she said, with a quick smile for his understanding.
He led the way down the narrow stairs and out the open front door, where Mr. Morley awaited them tucking away his timepiece.
“What do you say, Mr. Nieve? Shall I have my man call on you with the contract?”
“No, I’m afraid it won’t do for us,” Alban said.
“But thank you for your time,” Bella added quickly.
Mr. Morley sniffed. “Then I bid you good morning.” He bowed stiffly and hurried away.
“And this is where we part company, Mr. Nieve,” Bella said lightly. “Thank you for your escort and your opinion.”
Alban, untying the reins from the fence, made no effort to stop Pegasus munching the nearest flower head. Perhaps it was relief to be out of the dark little house, but he was very aware of the fine day and his desire to enjoy it in her company. Of course, a young lady galloping around the countryside unaccompanied would cause comment, but his motive wasn’t entirely chivalrous.
“If you wish to prolong your escape, my business is further west,” he said. “You wouldn’t be back by midday, but if we travel fast, we should be back in the earlier part of the afternoon.”
She searched his eyes with a hint of anxiety that slowly cleared. “I didn’t say when I’d be back,” she admitted. “And if I return now, they’ll make me go to the pump room and drink water.”
“I can give you brandy to lace it with,” he offered, bending to boost her into the saddle.
A gurgle of laughter escaped her lips. “I believe you would!” She stood on his joined hands and landed neatly in the saddle.
He handed up the reins. “Champagne would go flat.”
“True, but brandy would color the water.”
“Hmm. Have you ever tried Holland gin?”
“That is not a respectable drink for a lady.”
“Neither is brandy. Certainly not in the middle of the day. One thing before we go.”
The humor died from her eyes leaving them serious and perfectly trusting. His stomach twisted. “Like yours here, my business is private,” he said shortly.
“I think we can rely on each other,” she replied, her voice steady.
He kicked Pegasus into motion.
*
The country was wild and varied, from rocky hills to forest tracks and rushing streams that had to be jumped or forded. For Bella, nothing in the world had ever been quite so exciting as riding with this man, presumably upon his secret business. Curiosity as to what this might entail sent pleasurable little frissons up and down her spine as they galloped. She felt almost as if she were in a novel, and not a terribly improving one. One that was fun and a lot more thrilling than real life. Perhaps because he rode fast over the difficult terrain without either criticizing her seat or worrying that she would fall off.
And yet, even breathless from the horses’ speed, they still managed to hold conversations of the kind she most enjoyed and rarely found. Although he never laughed out loud, he replied in kind to all her humorous observations that normally passed unanswered or produced a retort that she was talking rubbish. He never once asked what are you talking about, Bella? In fact, she rather thought he enjoyed her company almost as much as she enjoyed his. And once or twice she caught an arrested expression in his eyes, as though this fact surprised him.
After a couple of hours of mostly hard riding, he slowed and at the next fork in the road, turned left, following a muddy signpost to Roseley.
“There’s a respectable inn just on the edge of the village,” he said. “I propose you rest there while I conduct my business.”
“I would like coffee,” she confessed. “And breakfast.”
“There’s a private parlor. Or at least—” He broke off with an impatient shrug.
She was sure he’d been about to say, at least there used to be. As if he had some long-standing connection to the place. Bella wondered if there would be other pirates there. Of the more obvious, cutlass-wielding variety, perhaps.
Smiling, she turned her head to share the joke with him, and found him staring beyond her head into the wood. For the first time that day, he reached out to take her bridle and brought both of their horses to a standstill.
While she frowned quizzically, he never took his eyes off the wood. Releasing her bridle, he urged his horse in front of hers, and then beside it, facing the other way.
“If I say the word,” he murmured, “don’t hesitate. Dig in your heels and ride hard along this road. I’ll find you at the inn.”
Her lips parted in shock. It was all she could do not to drop the reins immediately and clutch her lurching stomach. They were in real danger here. Suddenly, the adventure wasn’t quite so comfortable, particularly not when he drew something from his saddle bag nearest her. A pistol.
Her breath caught, but this was no time for coughing fits of any kind. She tightened her grip on the reins, but knew instinctively she could never leave him here alone to face whatever this danger was…
“Come out,” he called clearly, although he kept the pistol hidden between them. “I can hear you crashing about like elephants.”
“We are not crashing about!” exclaimed an outraged and childish voice, closely followed by a boy of perhaps eight summers, leaping out of the wood. “We are creeping. And you must have ears like a dog to hear us!”
The boy wore a torn suit of what had once been decent clothes. His face was almost as muddy, and his hair was wild and unkempt. Behind him came a smaller girl in a grass-stained dress with her tangled hair tumbling half over her face.
A pair of urchin children if ever she’d seen them. And yet the boy hadn’t spoken with a local accent of any kind.
Discreetly, Alban un-cocked the pistol, though he didn’t yet put it away.
“Clearly my hearing is better than my eyes,” he observed. “For I put you both at three feet taller.”
“We climbed the chestnut tree,” the girl said proudly. “To try and see you better.”
“Why?” Alban asked.
“We’d like to st… borrow,” the girl corrected, glaring furiously at the boy who’d just nudged her sharply, “your horses. Or perhaps just one of your horses, then you could share and so could we.”
Definitely not local laborers’ brats, or even gypsy children.
“Why, where are you going?” Bella asked.
The two children halted, exchanging glances. “We can’t quite agree on that yet,” the girl confided. “I want to go to London to find Mama, but he wants to find our uncle, which is silly, even if he is older than me, for we don’t know where my uncle is, and we do know where Mama is.”
“You’re running away,” Bella said, impressed. “Do you live around here?”
Again, the boy nudged his companion, and this time she closed her mouth with a defiant gesture.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Bella assured them. “I’m a stranger here myself and quite given to escape, too, although a little less drastically than you. So far.” She peered at them. “Are you hungry? You look hungry.”
“We’re saving our breakfast,” the boy said, patting the little bundle he carried.
“What for?” Alban asked.
“Supper,” the boy said ruefully. “We don’t have any money, so we can only eat once a day until we find my uncle.”
“Or Mama,” the girl added.
“I can see you have a dilemma,” Alban said. “Why don’t you come to the inn with us and discuss it? We’re having breakfast there and you can share.”
The children’s eyes both lit up for an instant, but they exchanged glances, and the boy sighed. “We can’t. They’ll tell Jenkins.”
“Who’s Jenkins?” Alban asked.
“I don’t really know,” the boy said. “But we’re bidden to obey him.”
“Bidden by whom?”
“By Rad…my stepfather.” He grimaced. “And by Mama, which is one reason I don’t think we should go to her in London.”
“But our uncle is probably in London, too,” the girl pointed out.
“You can’t possibly know that!” the boy exclaimed.
“You can’t know that he isn’t,” the girl retorted.
Bella threw up her hand. “Peace! We refuse to share our lunch with warring runaways. If you won’t come to the inn, let us move into the trees and we can break our fast al fresco style. We may sit on my cloak and be quite comfortable.”
She cast a quick glance at Alban to see if he would go along with this. It didn’t matter if he wouldn’t. She couldn’t leave these clearly quite determined children to run into the world alone, and she had every intention of helping however she could. To her surprise, Alban’s pistol had already vanished and he was dismounting.
“Take us to your favorite hiding place,” he commanded.
The children regarded them speculatively before exchanging glances. Finally, the boy turned and led them back into the woods.
With Alban’s aid, Bella dismounted, too. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Who knows what might befall them if they keep to their plan.”
Alban said nothing. His face was unreadable, but his attitude seemed grim. She supposed he had seen plenty of the worst the world had to offer.
“Here,” the boy said at last, pausing by a hollowed out oak tree. “We hide inside it, sometimes. Or shelter there from the rain.”
“Excellent,” Bella approved, unfastening her cloak and spreading it on the ground. “This is what I brought for my breakfast.” While Alban tied the horses, she retrieved her parcel from the saddle bag and spread it out—a half loaf of bread, two apples, some strawberries, half a cheese, and a flask of water.
The boy swallowed. “You’ve got more than us,” he said enviously.
“We’re bigger. But since we’re going to eat at the inn, you can have what you like from this.”
After an instant, the boy seized the loaf, tore off a chunk and broke it in two, shoving one half into the girl’s eager fist.
“My name’s Arabella,” Bella told them. “And this is—”
“Nieve,” Alban said sardonically, sitting down beside her on the grass rather than on her cloak. “Apparently.”
“I’m Leo,” the boy said. “My sister is Florrie.”
Alban didn’t say anything.
“How old are you?” Bella asked.
“Eight,” Leo replied. “Florrie’s nearly seven, but she’s clever for a girl.”
Bella nodded. “One of my brothers is clever, too. For a boy.”
Florrie laughed, though Leo looked slightly bewildered.
“Never mind,” Alban said, pushing the strawberries toward the boy. “We are doomed never to be taken seriously by the fairer sex. Why are you running away? Just looking for adventure, or is someone cruel to you?”
“Jenkins will beat me if I hide too long,” Leo said with a shrug. “But mostly we’re just hungry.”
“They don’t feed you?”
“They forget,” Florrie said, “and the new cook won’t let us in the kitchen. And sometimes we’re too naughty and have to miss dinner.”
Beside her, Alban had gone very still. It seemed to betoken outrage, which might have been incongruous in a man of his reputation, but made her like him all the more.
“Does your mother know this?” he barked.
“She doesn’t know anything,” Leo said.
“But she wouldn’t like it?” Bella asked anxiously.
“Oh no,” the children said together, although Leo looked slightly dubious.
“Well, I might have a better plan,” Alban said, “if you can be brave for another few days.”
“What plan?” Leo demanded with suspicion.
“Don’t go to her or your uncle—you’d find it too hard, anyway with no money or an adult companion. Get them to come here.”
The children gazed at Alban in consternation. “How?” Florrie asked.
“Write her a letter.”
Their faces fell. “Jenkins won’t let us,” Florrie said. “He tears them up and threatens to beat us.”
Appalled, Bella could only gaze at them in pity. Obviously, this Jenkins was enjoying the easy life here away from supervision and didn’t want his neglect reported—at least until he could clean the children up, presumably, and accuse them of lying if they told the truth about his treatment.
“Write a secret letter and give it to us,” Alban said in a hard voice. “I’ll see your mother gets it. Tell her everything.”
Florrie’s eyes brightened, but her brother was glowering. “She won’t believe us.”
“Oh, she’ll believe you,” Alban said grimly. “I’ll vouch for you.”
“Do you know her?” Leo asked, surprised.
“No,” Alban said shortly.
“In any case, she’ll believe me,” Bella said determinedly. Sometimes it was useful to be a duke’s daughter. “Who is your mother?”
The children exchanged glances one again. “You’ll really post a letter to her?” Leo asked with a hint of eagerness behind the doubt. “And maybe one to my uncle, too?”
“I can try and find him for you,” Alban said.
“Mrs. Radnor,” Florrie said in a rush. “Our stepfather is Mr. Julian Radnor. And my brother is Lord Roseley.”