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  Blast him!

  Amelia ran again, finally rounding the corner at Drury Lane. Carriages lined the curb, waiting for their passengers who were, no doubt, enjoying the performance within. Perhaps she could hide in one of them until the man passed and gave up.

  She chose one with a sleeping driver, and looked about to make sure no one was around to see her slip inside. A couple strolled slowly toward her, but they were still far enough away that they’d not notice her stealing into the carriage, so she took her chance. Once inside, she waited quietly. Several minutes passed before she dared to peer out the window. All was quiet. No sign of the man. All she had to do was wait for the lady and gentleman, who were much closer now, to pass by and then she could make her escape.

  Though where she would go was still a mystery.

  “Ho, there!” yelled the man in the top hat, and Amelia shut the window quickly and sunk back into the squabs, her heart pounding.

  “Oh, Tom! What in the world are you doing?” came a female voice.

  “Nuffing! Leave me be!”

  Oh, blast. It was him—the drunkard. What business did he have with those fine people?

  “I thought you were leaving for Welwyn this afternoon.” This came from the gentleman.

  “I’ll go when I’m damn well ready,” the man—Tom, apparently—slurred.

  Amelia pulled the curtain back just a hair, in time to see the man in the top hat step forward and take Tom by the shoulders. He spoke quietly to him, and Amelia strained in vain to hear his words.

  “You can’t make me,” Tom finally said, quite a bit louder than his friend, or perhaps relation.

  “Like bloody hell I can’t.” The well-dressed man grabbed Tom by the collar and shoved him forward. Right for the carriage Amelia currently occupied.

  Damn and blast!

  “John,” he called up to the driver. “I’ll give you extra to take this man straight to Dartwell Cottage in Welwyn, and even more if you carry his drunken arse inside in the morning.”

  Amelia scrambled as quickly as she could to the other side of the carriage and huddled in the corner, barely daring to breathe. The door opened, and a mere moment later the man shoved Tom inside then slammed the door quickly behind him.

  “Damn you, Fin!” Tom yelled as the carriage pulled away. “And damn you, Victoria!”

  Though his words were loud and demonstrative, his exaggerated yawn proved he was growing weary from the alcohol he had consumed. It wouldn’t be long before he fell asleep—Amelia knew this scene all too well, and she resented that she knew it. While most young women had been learning how to sing or needlepoint, she had learned how to judge her father’s moods. How to figure out how much time she had before the gin overtook him and put him to sleep.

  A soft snore wafted over the clip clopping of the horses’ hooves. This was her chance. She looked out the window. Blast, but they were going too fast for her to make an escape. Surely they’d stop at a coaching inn soon, and she could slip out then.

  Three

  “Bloody hell!”

  Amelia woke with a start at the rather loud expletive. The events of the previous day and night came flooding back to her one by one until she remembered how she’d ended up in this carriage. Her stomach flipped as she stared at the drunkard across from her. He looked a fright. His blond hair stood on end, he had dark circles under his eyes and his skin was sweaty and pasty. Was it possible he was just as frightened as she was?

  “Who the devil are you? And why the hell are you in my carriage?”

  Amelia realized the situation was bizarre, and yet, she still didn’t appreciate the aggressive tone he took with her. Especially after he’d tried to maul her in the street last night. Perhaps she could sharpen her dramatic skills and teach him a lesson at the same time.

  She assumed an expression that hopefully resembled a scolded puppy. “What do you mean?” she asked, drawing her hand to her heart. “It’s me. Amelia.”

  Tom’s brow furrowed in confusion. He started to shake his head back and forth, and then winced. “I’m sorry, I must have…forgotten?”

  “Forgotten!” Amelia played the woman scorned to perfection, shoving her nose into the air and clutching her hands over her heart. “How could you forget the most deliciously passionate night of your life?”

  A dumbfounded Tom echoed, “Deliciously passionate?”

  Pretending to ignore his confusion, Amelia put her hand to her belly and smiled at him sweetly. “My only prayer is that such a night might be immortalized with a child.”

  That was it. Clearly Tom had had enough. “Good God, woman! What are you talking about?” And then in an instant his expression changed. His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head to the side. Was he beginning to remember bits and pieces of last night? “Oh, dear God.”

  “What, my love?” she said. Her voice wasn’t quite as certain as it had been before.

  Tom’s eyes widened and he sat forward in his seat. “Did you…did…” He rubbed his face with his hands. “Dear God, did you ravish me?”

  And that was Amelia’s undoing. She could no longer keep up the ruse, for the laughter bubbled inside of her and she burst into an unladylike cackle.

  “Are you mad?” she asked, her tone full of incredulity. “It was you who made such an attempt on me last night.”

  Tom narrowed his eyes. “Then why the devil are you here in my carriage if I behaved so poorly?”

  That was a good question, but in the silence that fell between them, her stomach rumbled loudly. She clutched her midsection, embarrassed. She ought to have been fearful of this man who had tried to maul her in the street the night before, but he seemed much less threatening this morning. At least she hoped that was the case.

  “Perhaps we could discuss it over breakfast?”

  His jaw dropped. “You want me to buy you breakfast?”

  “Well, it would be the gentlemanly thing to do, especially after the trouble you caused me.”

  They sat silently staring at one another for a moment before Tom grumbled an agreement. The driver opened the door finally and Tom threw himself from the carriage. His departure was quickly followed by the satisfying sounds of him tossing up his accounts. For good reason, that made Amelia smile.

  ~*~

  Tom had never been so sick or so confused in his entire bloody life. While he tossed up his accounts in the bushes, it occurred to him he had no idea whose bushes he was tossing them into. And who the hell was that lying little filly in his carriage? How the devil had she even gotten there?

  Having emptied his stomach sufficiently, he glanced up at the small cottage before him. It looked like any other country cottage, with vines climbing up to the roof and a small garden in the front, yet it was totally unfamiliar to him.

  Without knowing if there was anyone around to answer him, he asked, “Where the devil am I?

  “Welwyn, my lord,” came a male voice from behind him.

  Tom turned to see Victoria’s driver helping the woman out of the carriage.

  “Welwyn?” Tom scratched his head. “Why the Hell am I in…Oh, bloody hell.”

  “Your brother-in-law instructed me to bring you here. Sorry, my lord.”

  “Brother-in-law indeed.” This reeked of his blasted sister, always taking matters into her own hands.

  “Will there be anything else, sir?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes.” Tom stalked across the driveway to where the driver stood with the lying hussy. “Take this woman back to London, if you please.”

  “Now wait just a moment!” Her large brown eyes flashed with anger. “I’ll decide when I’m ready to go back to London. I don’t need you to tell me what to do. Besides…you promised me breakfast.”

  Incensed by her boldness, Tom shot back, “I didn’t promise you anything. You snuck into my carriage and…and…”

  “And what?” The look on her face dared him to speak further.

  But what was he to say? He didn’t even know what had actua
lly happened, and truth be known, he was just the slightest bit curious. She certainly looked like someone he might try to ravage in a drunken stupor. Or even in his right mind, if was being honest. What would it feel like to bury his fingers in that mass of dark hair?

  “Fine,” he bit out, annoyed by his wayward thoughts. “Are we near an inn where we might find rations, John?”

  “A few minutes in that direction,” the driver said, indicating with his hand. “I’d be happy to drive ya back on my way out of town, but you’ll have to walk back here afterwards.”

  Tom wasn’t sure he wanted to return to the carriage—not with the way his stomach felt—but the sooner they got to the inn, the sooner he could get rid of this mysterious woman who he prayed to God was nothing but a lying whore. “Fine,” he grumbled, and then like a cad, boarded the carriage ahead of her.

  ~*~

  Goodness, what a dreadful man she found herself latched onto. Amelia had only seen behavior so inexcusable from one other man in her entire life—her father, of course. Brooding, moody, drunk—or getting over the affects of drunkenness—bitter and downright unfriendly. She would take the first chance she got to get away from Tom. Well, the second, at least. She still needed food, and if she could get it for free, she would. Not to mention, she couldn’t afford a hack all the way back to London, and it was more than obvious that this cad called Tom was not going to help her on that account, no matter how much he held in his coffers. Though based on his shabby appearance, she guessed he had very little.

  Besides, if they were at an inn, she could post a letter to Meg to let her know she was all right. Well, mostly all right. Her first day in London had proved to be rather trying. After being turned away from Drury Lane rather unceremoniously, she’d wandered the streets, taking in the sights and keeping her eyes and ears open for possible work at the same time. It hadn’t been easy. She’d stepped in horse manure twice and nearly gotten run down by a gentleman’s phaeton. Yet she still didn’t regret her decision. Not even now, after nearly being compromised by a blackguard and then taken all the way to Welwyn in her attacker’s carriage.

  It was something of a grand adventure, really. Meg would never believe all of it, so Amelia decided to simply tell her she had arrived in London and all was looking up.

  It seemed like a lifetime before their food arrived, and though Amelia knew her manners and how to eat like a proper lady, she couldn’t help but attack the offerings like a wild animal. Cheese, bread, grapes…they tasted like the food of the gods, and Amelia devoured them as quickly as she could, eager to make the empty feeling in her belly vanish.

  When she finally glanced up, Tom was staring at her, dumbfounded.

  “Aren’t you hungry?” she asked around a mouthful of bread.

  “Ah, no,” he replied, his tone clipped. “I’ll wait until you’ve had your fill to start asking questions.”

  Amelia put the hunk of bread down and chased her last bite with the small tin cup of weak beer. “You may ask all you want,” she said at last. “But it doesn’t mean I have to answer…Tom.”

  “So you know my name,” he said, leaning back against his chair. “It’s only fair I know yours.”

  “Amelia.”

  Tom raised his eyebrows when she didn’t continue. “Haven’t you a family name?”

  “Not that I care to share.” She wasn’t about to tell anyone who she was, lest word get around to her father.

  “Why? Have you run away from home?”

  Heat infused Amelia’s cheeks. Blast him. How did he guess so quickly? “No,” she lied. “I have not.” It wasn’t a complete lie. She had truly run away from her finishing school, not home.

  “School, then?”

  Amelia’s jaw dropped. How did he know that?

  “Aha! I’m right, aren’t I?” He smiled with a smugness that Amelia wished to slap right off his face. “Well, go on. Why have you run away? Headmistress was mean to you?”

  Now he was just being an arse. “It’s none of your business why I left.”

  “You’re the one who showed up in my carriage and made it my business.” He broke off a bit of bread and lifted it to his mouth before turning slightly green and putting it down again.

  “If you hadn’t attacked me, I wouldn’t have had to run and hide in the carriage in the first place. Perhaps it would do you good to learn some manners before you find yourself—or worse, some poor girl—in even more trouble than we’re in now. Besides, how was I to know it was your carriage?” Really, this man was as infuriating as he was handsome.

  Blast, where did that thought come from? He was a sickly-looking drunkard. Never mind he had piercing green eyes and a nicely cut jaw…

  Amelia shook her head of her wayward thoughts and shoved another slice of cheese into her mouth. When she looked up at Tom, he was still staring at her, but his expression had turned from teasing to somewhat serious.

  “What?” Amelia asked, uncomfortable with the way he regarded her.

  “I am very sorry for how I behaved last night…however that was. I’ve had a bit of a rough go of it lately and I…”

  It wasn’t often that Amelia felt sorry for someone—especially someone who had tried to maul her in the street—yet something about his eyes made her feel sad all of a sudden. Like he was a lost little boy who needed to be comforted and reassured.

  “Anyway,” he said, changing the tone and the subject all at once, “aren’t you a bit old to be in school?”

  All the pity she’d felt before fell away. “You really are a cad, aren’t you? How dare you make an assumption about my age?”

  He reared back. “I didn’t mean it to be insulting,” he defended. “I just, I mean, well, you’re obviously older than sixteen—”

  “Barely,” Amelia bit back, though she knew two years made quite the difference. She was not the same girl she’d been at sixteen—not in the physical sense or the emotional sense.

  Tom folded his arms across his chest and sat back, his air far too lackadaisical for her preference. “Goodness, but you’re a difficult lass, aren’t you? I’ll bet that school is glad to be rid of you.”

  It wasn’t so much that Amelia minded being called difficult—that was a character trait she’d long ago accepted. But the condescending way he’d called her lass grated on every nerve in her body. She stood abruptly, ready to storm out now that she’d filled her belly.

  “Thank you very much for breakfast, Tom, but I think I’ll be on my way now.” And then she turned on her heel and swept from the room with a dramatic swish of her skirts. Drury Lane had no idea what they were missing.

  Four

  Good God, what an over-dramatic little wench. Here he was, trying to be nice and apologize and there she was, stomping about like a spoiled child. Which she basically was. She might not be as young as sixteen, but she wasn’t long out of the schoolroom. Tom was inclined to let her go. Let her fend for herself out there—she was full of enough spit and fire, she ought to be able to scratch and claw her way into some wealthy lord’s pockets. Not his, of course. It would be a cold day in Hell before he ever let that one get to him.

  Tom picked up his small tin cup of beer and lifted it to his lips. It smelled horrendous and made his stomach churn, but he knew better than anyone that it would be the only thing to soothe his nausea and aching head. He sat back into his chair and closed his eyes, letting the brew find its way to his belly.

  His mind began to wander, and for the first time in a long time it didn’t linger on thoughts of Bianca. No, this time his thoughts ran to Amelia. She’d not been gone even three minutes yet, and here he was, wondering how she was faring out there. Did she have any money? What would she do here in Welwyn, so far from…?

  Damn, he didn’t even know where she was supposed to be. Sure, he’d picked her up in London, but where was her school? Were there people out looking for her? And what if something happened to her? What if someone truly nefarious attacked her next time? When he was deep in his cups, he wa
s harmless. At least, he thought he was.

  What a cad he’d been, attacking the poor girl and then sending her out into the world on her own. No matter how disagreeable she was, he owed her more than bread and cheese, if her story was to be believed. At the very least, he had to see that she got to where she was going—wherever that was.

  All he really wanted to do was go back to the cottage and sleep until his blasted headache went away. But there was nothing for it. He’d never be able to sleep knowing he’d sent a young, innocent lady out into the streets alone, with no protection. And maybe, just maybe, he could start to repair his reputation in the eyes of Victoria. If he could prove there was some semblance of genteelness within him, she might just let him back into Town.

  His mind made up, Tom pushed away from the table and stalked from the dingy dining room toward the front desk. Not surprisingly, Amelia stood there, and her eyes burned with annoyance as he approached.

  “What do you want?” she asked, and part of Tom wanted to turn back around and leave her to her own devices. But he knew he’d feel responsible if anything happened to her.

  In hushed tones, he said, “I’m going to see to your safety.”

  She punched her fists to her hips. “I don’t need your help.”

  “Well, you’re getting it anyway. I won’t be able to sleep at night wondering if you’re all right. And if anything were to happen to you, I’d feel completely responsible.”

  “That’s just ridiculous,” she countered. “Nothing is going to happen to me, but if it did, it would be my fault, not yours. I chose to…”

  “Run away?”

  Her nostrils flared a bit, but finally she agreed, “Yes. I chose to run away.”

  “All the same, as a gentleman, it is my duty to look out for you.”