Regency Romance: A Race Against The Lord (A Historical Romance Book) (COMPLETED)

02

Two days ago, Lydia had started out for London feeling not capable but determined and strong. She left early in the day, so early that she was able to hitch a ride down to town with a man driving in a wagon of cabbages.

The jostling of the mail coach was irritating, but she got used to it, and there were the Quakers to talk to and Mrs. Thackeray's children, who would be still if she told them a story.

All in all, she was feeling cautiously optimistic about her plans before the bandit appeared. He was now hung off the side of the couch, his eyes likely still smarting from her Hungary water, but the ride on the driver's bench was proving rougher than she had anticipated.

The duke—Nicholas—had been right when he said the wind was cold, and she could feel every rut in the road. More than once, she found herself rocked up against Nicholas as he drove. At first, she blushed and apologized stiffly, but he smiled at her, glancing at her briefly before returning his eyes to the road.

"I'd rather have you snuggled up next to me than with your brains dashed on the road," he said dryly. "Hang on to my arm if you need to."

Lydia wasn't quite sure that she was willing to go that far, but it was more comfortable to sit close to him on the bench. She could feel herself relax a little.

Goodness, but he's warm. She made a face at herself. She was behaving like a senseless girl right out of the nursery, and she resolved to be as proper as she could be when they got off the coach.

She breathed a sigh of relief when they gained Berkhamsted. The light was failing, and even if they had wanted to continue, the driver's wrist needed to be tended to. Lydia had been trailing along with Mrs. Thackeray and her brood at the stops along the way, but it seemed the woman had cousins in town. She swept off with all her children, chattering about their terrible time, and Lydia was left quite alone. The Quakers had found their own people, and she had never really trusted Mr. Anderton, who was a vicar but who had eyed her a little too close for her taste when he appeared the day before.

Nicholas was talking with the wounded driver, and she took the opportunity to steal away, feeling a slight pang as she did so. She was reluctant to leave a man who had saved them all, she told herself. It had nothing to do with how warm he had felt against her side or the way her heart quickened a little when he looked down at her.

Get a grip on yourself. If you cannot be any more serious than that about your mission, you might as well go home!

Scolding herself made Lydia stand up a little straighter, and as she marched into the inn, she put on the stern expression that her governess had always used when she misbehaved.

The inn was surprisingly full of people, and for a moment, Lydia was intimidated by the crush. The men were of a rough sort, tradesmen at best, and the only women she could see were the one expertly tapping the keg and the half-grown girls running plates of steaming food out to the tables. As she watched, a man reached forward to smack a passing girl on the thigh, making her squawk with surprise and turn to scold him before she flounced on her way.

If they can bear it every day, I can bear it tonight. She made her way to the innkeeper who was overseeing the kitchen area.

"Excuse me, sir, but I am in need of a room."

He gave her an uninterested look.

"Call your man to talk to me."

"No, you see, I have money. I wish to pay for a room and some food to eat."

The innkeeper snorted.

"Look, miss, this is a clean house, see? I don't rent to single women on their own. If you're looking to work, you can call for men around back, close to the privy."