She grinned. “Mornin’, sir, I hope I’ll be gettin’ my bed back tonight.”
“Yes, yes,” he muttered crossly. “Get along with you, girl.” He returned to demonstrate further fascination with the horse brasses and ignored Betty as she collected a large knotted bundle from her mother and went outside.
A moment later another cloaked and hooded figure tiptoed cautiously downstairs.
Again Elphingstone sprang forward. “May I assist you, my dear?” He seized an arm.
The hood fell back and Betty’s younger brother Jimmy glared up at Elphingstone. “I ain’t nobody’s dear, and certainly not yourn.” He wrenched his arm from Elphingstone’s grasp and stepped away. “That basket for me, Ma?” he said, and collected a large covered basket from his mother.
“Very considerate of you to be so helpful toward the inn’s staff, Elphingstone,” Ned commented casually. “Though I’m not sure the landlord will take to you roughing up his son. Or his daughter, for that matter.”
“I wasn’t—I—oh, forget it,” Elphingstone muttered, just as another young woman came down the stairs, half buried beneath a large bundle of laundry.
“Want me to strip your bed, sir?” she asked Elphingstone as she passed. Her soft Yorkshire burr was muffled by the load she carried.
“No, no, get along with you,” he snapped, stepping back ostentatiously to let her pass.
“I’ll be off now,” Ned told him after the young woman had disappeared. “Good luck with getting your wheel fixed.”
“Eh, what?” Elphingstone glanced around. “But where’s your—” He broke off, realizing he’d been tricked, and hurried to the entrance to try for a glimpse of Ned’s elusive companion.
Mrs. Baines stepped into the breach, blocking his exit. “Now, my fine gentleman, what’s this I hear aboutfleas? I’ll have you know there’s never been a flea yet in my inn, and by all accounts you have a reputation for spreading nasty rumors, so...”
As Ned swung lithely into the carriage, he heard the sound of raised voices, a grim female one and a light male voice babbling in protest. He grinned. “Your mother is a redoubtable woman,” he told Betty.
“I dunno what that means, sir, but she ain’t one to be crossed, right enough. Serve him right for spreading nasty rumors. Me bed’s as clean as a whistle—all the beds are—and I changed his sheets meself.” She added with a grin. “The wheelwright he’s waitin’ on is me uncle Billy—Ma’s brother—so Lord Fleabit’ll be lucky to get his wheel fixed anytime this week.”
They all laughed. He glanced at Lily. “That wasn’t a bad Yorkshire accent you did before. I was almost fooled myself.”
She smiled. “Betty coached me.”
He suddenly realized there was one passenger less in the carriage. “Where’s your brother, Betty? I promised your mother—”
“Jimmy’s up on top—mad about horses, he is. Wants to drive a coach when he grows up. Mr. Walton said it was all right by him as long as it was all right by you.” She bounced excitedly on the seat, almost dislodging the large covered wickerwork basket beside her. “London, eh? Jimmy and me are that excited. We never been farther than Leeds. I want to thank you, sir, for takin’ us up. Ma said you need me to chaperone Miss Lily, and Jimmy is comin’ to look after me.”
“Yes, and I promised your mother I’d put you on the coach back home myself.”
“But not before you’ve seen the sights of London, eh, Betty?” A tiny smile hovered on Lily’s mouth. He couldn’tlook away. “Until this year, I’d never been to London, either, so I’ve promised to show Betty and her brother all the famous places and sights she’s heard about. Only not—” She glanced at Betty, her eyes dancing.
“Turns out the streets ain’t paved with gold, after all,” Betty said in disgust.
Ned smiled faintly at Betty’s naïveté. She’d never been twenty miles past her village, and travelers at the inn had filled her ears with some very tall tales about the nation’s capital. He leaned back in the corner of the coach and let the female chatter wash over him.
They had a grueling journey ahead of them. Normally he wouldn’t attempt to cover that distance in one day, but the longer Lily was away from home, the more likely it was that the story would get out.
He pretended to be gazing out the window, but at a certain angle he could see the pale shadow of Lily’s reflection in the glass. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
He was glad he’d arranged for Betty to come in the carriage. Being alone in the carriage with Lily would have been... unbearable.
She would fall asleep eventually—it was a hellishly long journey to make in a day—and if they’d been alone, he would have been obliged to hold her again, to prevent her from falling. He’d have to feel her softness against him, smell the fragrance of her hair and body.
At least she was fully dressed this time. He wasn’t sure whether he was grateful for that or not.
He watched her face in the glass, fascinated by the changing of her expressions, and the sweetness of her. Anyone would think she really was interested in a tavern maid’s conversation.
He’d hired Betty to ensure that everything would be drearily and safely proper and respectable.Everythingmeaning himself.
What had he been thinking of, kissing Lily last night? And why could he not put the memory of those kisses out of his head?
