Francesca Shaw - The Unconventional Miss Dane Read online

  the unconventional miss dane by Francesca Shaw

  Francesca Shaw is not one but two authors, working together under the same name.

  Both are librarians by profession, working in Hertfordshire but living within distance of each other in Bedfordshire. They first began writing ten years ago under a tree in a Burgundian vineyard, but although they have published other romances they have only recently come to historical novels. Their shared interests include travel, good food, reading and, of course, writing.

  Recent titles by the same author:

  A COMPROMISED LADY

  THE

  UNCONVENTIONAL

  MISS DANE

  MILLS

  ~BOON'

  DID YOU PURCHASE THIS BOOK WITHOUT A COVER?

  If you did, you should be aware it is stolen property as it was reported unsold and destroyed by a retailer. Neither the Author nor the publisher has r~ceiYe~ any payment~ for this book.

  All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author. and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author. and all the incidents are pure invention. 411 Rights Reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Enterprises H It. K The text of this publication or any part thereof may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means. electronic or mechanical. including photocopying, recording, storage in'an information retrieval system. or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not. by way of trade or otherwise. be lent. resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publlsker in any form of binding or cover other than that in wkick it is. published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  MILLS & BOON and MILLS & BOON with the Rase Device are registered trademarks of the publisher.

  First published in Great Britain 1997

  Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited.

  Eton House. 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond. Surrey TW9 ISR

  ISBN 0 263 80436 4

  Set in Times I0 on 12 pt. by

  Rowland Phototypesetting Limited

  Bury St. Edmunds. Suffolk

  04-9711-73842

  Printed and bound in Great Britain

  Chapter One

  The stagecoach lurched, then with infinite slowness toppled on to its right, hand side, precipitating Miss Antonia Dane into the lap of the portly bank clerk next to her. Wildly clutching at his lapels only served to take both of them on to the floor of the coach, where they were shortly joined by a curate, a basket of apples and a small child who promptly set up a piercing wail,

  "Donna!" Antonia looked round anxiously for her companion as she attempted to lever herself upright from the mass of tumbled humanity.

  "Oh, I do beg your pardon, sir," she apologised, removing her elbow from the clerk's midriff. "Donna, there you are! Are you unhurt?~

  "A little shaken, my dear, but otherwise unhurt, I believe." Miss Maria Donaldson came into Antonia's view over the heap of bodies, patting her neatly coiled hair into place, her pince-nez already firmly back in position on the lip of her nose. "But I think we should alight as soon as may be." She turned to the red-faced farmer wedged next to her. "If you could force open the door, sir, I believe I could climb through."

  After considerable upheavals, the farmer managed to

  assist Donna's slight frame through the door and on to the sloping side of the coach. Sensing escape, the small child set up a fresh wail and to Antonia's relief was handed up to his mother who followed Miss Donaldson into the spring sunshine.

  It was a shaken but unhurt group of passengers who eventually assembled on the rutted road to view the wreck of their conveyance. The driver and guard unhitched and calmed the horses, but further useful activity then seemed beyond them. The driver removed a filthy hat the better to scratch his equally dirty hair, the guard l~lpfully kicked the nearest wheel and the men amongst~ the passengers stood around sucking their teeth in con--ion of the depth of the ditch into'which~the coach had-fallen.

  "Really, my dear Antonia," M~ Donaldson said gently. "I have never been able~ to Understand why men feel that giving something a sharp'~kick will t~store it to working order."

  Antonia's lips quirked in amusement. "It never works, but I think it must make them feel better: Come~ let us see if our luggage is still safely strapped on behind."

  "Your elbow has come through the sleeve of your gown," Miss Donaldson observed as they ~turned from their scrutiny of the large luggage basket at the rear of the stagecoach. "Is your pelisse still in the' coach?"

  "It must be," Antonia responded indifferently, her fingers twitching together the hole in the threadbare linen sleeve. "It proves .l was right to wear this old gown for the journey--I have too few good dresses to damage like this."

  She set her straw bonnet straight on her head, tucking in a straggling brown curl and retying the ribbons under her chin. 'l think we will achieve little by waiting here until the coachman finally realises he must send for help. The last finger post said Rybury was only three miles; if we take our pelisses and handbags from the coach, we can walk and at least wait for our luggage in comfort at the inn. "

  The curate, who was more than happy to assist the ladies, was just handing out their things from inside the coach when, with a thud of hooves on the wet chalk, two horsemen rounded the bend and reined in at the sight of the shambles in their path.

  "My lord!" exclaimed the curate with delighted recognition of the man who sat astride the tall chestnut gelding. "This is Providence indeed, if you would be so kind as to instruct your groom to get help to right the coach."

  The nobleman thus addressed dismounted, tossing his reins to his groom before striding over to regard the wreck. "Has anyone been hurt, Mr.

  Todd?" he ~enquired of the curate, his glance keenly s ~urveying the ill-assorted group of passengers.

  Antonia encountered the brief scrutiny of a pair of dark brown eyes before they moved on to as. swil~ly peruse and dismiss the small birdlike figure of her companion. She found herself colouring, with what had to be indignation, at such a cursory survey. For although shabbily dies sect and undoubtedly not at her best after a long coach ~y, Miss Antonia Dane with her tall figure and striking dark looks was accustomed to attracting more attention than this man had afforded her!

  Her eyes followed the tall, carelessly elegant figure as he stood, hands on hips, regarding the stage coach and the ditch. Bareheaded, the light breeze ruffled his dark blond hair which was, Miss Dane decided, in sore need of his barber's attention. He might appear careless of his

  dress, but cut and cloth were of the finest and the burnished leather of his long boots spoke of a man who need not, unlike Miss Dane, watch every penny.

  Mr. Todd the curate trailed after him, explaining to his lordship the circumstances of the accident and the fortunate fact that no one had been injured. The groom nudged his own hack forward. "Shall I ride to the village for help, my lord?"

  "No need, Sire. We passed Shoebridge and Otterly hedging the Long Meadow back around the bend; fetch them and we will have enough men to right the thing."

  As the groom cantered off, his lordship turned to the coachman and guard who Shuffled to attention, recognising authority when they saw it. "Youritch the horses up on long traces, and you two, fetch cut poles from that pile there..."

  Antonia watch
ed him take command, organising and ordering until the male passengers were marshalled into an obedient team, some levering up the wheel, others with their shoulders to the rear of the vehicle, ~With the addition of two sturdy hedgers and with Saye~ at the horses' heads, the stranded coach began to teeter. upright then stuck again in the soft soil of the bank top. -~

  "I fear we cannot do it, Lord Arlington," Todd gasped, his clerical black besmirched by mud. "We must summon more help from the village.

  "

  Without reply, his lordship stripped off his buff coat, rolled up his sleeves, and applied his shoulder to the coach. Thus encouraged, the men exerted themselves to the utmost and heaved. Seconds later, with a shuddering crash, the vehicle once more stood on four wheels.

  The coachman and groom re hitched the team, the grateful passengers picked up their luggage and began to climb aboard and Lord Arlington, fending off the flustered attempts of the curate to brush down his coat, remounted and rode off.

  "How very gratifying," Miss Dane remarked waspishly pausing on the step of the coach to regard Lord Allington's retreating back, 'to have the leisure to ride round the countryside setting we lesser mortals to rights. "

  Miss Donaldson cast a sideways glance at her former pupil, noting the pinkness of her cheeks and the brightness of her dark hazel eyes, Antonia always exhibited an independence of spirit, more to be expected of a fashionable matron than an unmarried lady of four-and-twenty, but even so, Lord Arlington seemed to have ruffled her out of her habitual well-bred composure.

  "He is a local gentleman, by all accounts," Miss Donaldson observed calmly. "And even you must concede, Miss Dane, that it was. fortunate that he had the leisure to rescue us today."

  Mr. Todd, catching the reference to their rescuer as he handed her into the coach, added, "That was Marcus, Lord Arlington, from Brightshill. He is of an old Hertfordshire family and owns all the land on this side of Berkhamsted to the crest of the Downs."

  Antonia settled in her place before remarking, with a deceptively gentle smile, "Not quite all, Mr. Todd. You forget, do you not, the Rye End Hall lands?"

  "One hardly regards those any longer," the curate responded dismissively. "The lands and Hall are sadly neglected, as one might expect after the scandalous behaviour of the last owner~ ut I shall say no more of that in front of ladies. It will be a good thing if the rumours are correct and Lord Arlington does intend to add them all to his own extensive estate, They will then be subject to the good husbandry which characterises the Brightshill ands-,-and the tenants will be employed. There is too much want in Rybury."

  Antonia opened her mouth as if to speak, then closed it, staring out of the window with furrowed brow. Miss Donaldson, seeing the look of worry, said low-voiced, "Did you never meet Marcus A!!ington when you still lived at Rye End Hall?"

  "You forget, Donna, in the ten ~years since I left home to live with Great Aunt in London, I have never been back to Rye End Hall. It must have been this man's father who was at Brightshill when I was a child, and he would have been away at school and university, I suppose. i would not know if my father or brother knew them well."

  Miss Donaldson reflected that, from what, she had heard of the late and unlamented Sir Humphrey Dane, normal social intercourse with his neighbours would not have figured large either for himself, or for

  "Antonia's late brother Howard.

  The coach was finally rumbling into Rybury and pulling up before the only inn the village boasted~ The host of the Bell walked out to greet the passengers, a! /of whom were only too pleased at the chance to sit in comfort and drink his ale while exclaiming loudly over their recent misadventure.

  The coachman and guard lifted down the ladies' luggage and Antonia and Donna stood looking round. Rybury, neat rather than picturesque, looked at its best in the spring sunshine with primroses on the green and children fishing for fiddlers in the Rye Brook. The pike road cut across the green and a by-road led over a bridge to a straggle of cottages, on the edge of a fine stand of woodland already touched with new green.

  "Would you ladies be requiring the use of a cart?" the landlord enquired, wiping his hands on his apron as he approached.

  "Yes, thank you, landlord. We will need these trunks taking to Rye End Hall~ is there a carter who can help?"

  "Our Jem can do that' for you, ma'am, just as soon as he's finished serving the coach 'passengers. It's a nice clean cart for you ladies, better than that old thing." He nodded towards the stagecoach. "Would you care to step into the private parlour and take some refreshment while you wait;~ma'am?"

  As he ushered them into a rather dingy from room, he chatted on. "Going to be staying at the Hall, then? That's been empty this last six months since Sir Humphrey and Master Howard were both carried off within a fortnight of each other." He shook his head. "Sometimes I wonder if it weren't a judgement on them both and the wicked life they led..."

  Miss Donaldson cleared her throat reprovingly and he darted a quick glance at her frosty profile. "Begging your ~ardon, ladies, you did know what had occurred...?"

  "Sir Humphrey was my father, Mr. Howard Dane was my only brother,"

  Antonia supplied quietly.

  "Oh ... ah! Sorry, ma'am, if I've spoken out of turn. The coach is just leaving now, I'll get young Jem out directly." He hurried away, clearly realising he had overstepped the mark.

  "I can see the local people held my father and brother in as high regard as we, Donna," Antonia remarked bitterly, pacing up and down the rather lurid Turkey mg before the fire. "The lord knows what we will find when we finally get to Rye End Hall!"

  Young Jem, a skinny version of his father the landlord, soon appeared with the cart, drawn by a neat cob; and set to loading the baggage and trunks before fetching his passengers.

  Miss Donaldson, regarding the narrow seat, began to climb into the back, saying, "I can sit here on the trunk, my dear."

  "I shall not hear of it Donna!" Antonia protested. "You sit up here in the front with Jem~l will walk through the woods. I have a headache coming on, and it is less than a mile by the footpath," she added Jas Donna still looked unsure.

  She followed the cart across the green and past the cottages, pleased to find, after a few yards, the beginning of the footpath she remembered. As she picked up the hem of her skirts and hopped over the frequent muddy patches in her stout boots, Antonia reflected that it must be a full ten years since she had last trodden this path.

  Then her mother had just died and her father had not yet embarked on the course of drinking, gambling and philandering which had ruined the family fortunes and corrupted her brother. As soon as rumours of his conduct began to reach polite Society, her great aunt, Lady Honoria Granger, had descended and borne her off to Town. Honoria had expected some opposition from her niece's husband, but Sir Humphrey had been only too pleased to be spared the trouble of bringing up a daughter.

  It had been fortunate that Lady Honoria had been left well provided for by her late husband and had been able to afford to educate and then bring out Antonia, for Sir Humphrey, with the girl off his hands, had shown every sign of forgetting he had ever had a daughter.

  Antonia stopped every now and again to pick primroses, feeling more at ease-now she was out of that wretched public conveyance. How right she had been to wear her old gown, she thought, seeing the chalky mud spatters around the hem.

  Whilst she had lived with her great aunt, she had wanted for nothing, but when the old lady had finally succumbed to increasing old age and had gone to live under her grandson's roof, her cousin, mindful of his own inheritance, had wasted no time in pointing out to Antonia that she could expect no more support from that quarter.

  Antonia had been under the misapprehension that she had been living on income from her mother's legacy to her, but Cousin Hewitt had soon, and with smug satisfaction, put her right. Not only would she now have to manage without great aunt Honoria's beneficence, but Hewitt Granger had also made it pretty plain that she and her companion, Mis
s Donaldson, must find alternative accommodation.

  Slowly following the winding path, Antonia found herself in a clearing full of sunlight. Shedding her bonnet and pelisse, she perched on a fallen tree and held her face up to the warmth; grateful to be in the ~lear air and out of London.

  In the midst of the upheavals of her aunt's infirmity and removal, the death in a driving accident of a brother who had been almost unknown to her and the sudden demise of her father from an apoplexy a mere two weeks afterwards had passed as though they had been no concern of hers.

  The family: solicitor had dealt with everything. After a precarious half-year in lodgings whilst the lawyer sold all he could find to settle Sir Humphrey's debts, Antonia had finally received word that only the house and land remained.

  She was just reflecting, and not for the first time, on how fortunate she was that Donna, her old governess, had offered to accompany her to Rye End Hall, when she heard a boy's voice raised in a yelp of pain.