Love Charade Part 3

"Quite frankly, no." He completed his dressing under the unnervingly curious stare of those melting brown

eyes, tying the snowy cravat with the intent concentration of a nonpareil. The bright polish to his top

boots did not meet his exacting standards, but in the absence of Petersham they would have to do.

"You didn't answer my question-about your valet," the urchin persisted, uncannily tuning into his thoughts.

"You can be thankful I am traveling alone," he commented shortly. "If Petersham were with me I would have handed you over to him to scrub yesterday."

There was a short silence as Danielle absorbed this unpalatable piece of information. "But why isn't he?"

"You are the most persistent child! He is not with me because my business on this occasion necessitates the minimum of fuss and the maximum of speed. I wished to travel without ceremony. And if you are thinking of asking me about my business, I'd advise you-to save your breath." Linton drew the second

boot over his slim muscled calf and, standing, reached for the blue velvet coat that slipped over the lawn and lace of his s.h.i.+rt with an ease belied by a fit so perfect it could have been moulded to his shoulders.

"Come and have some breakfast, brat, and I will tell you how we are going to proceed." He poured coffee into two cups and broke into a fragrant, steaming brioche.

"I do not need you to tell me how we are to proceed," Danielle said indignantly. "I have my own plans and if they do not suit you, we must go our separate ways."

The earl disdained to respond to this blunt statement. He merely continued calmly with his meal under the now baleful eye of his ward.

"If you are intending to eat, child, I suggest you do so. We are in somewhat of a hurry this morning."

"I do not wish for your charity," Danny declared stubbornly.

"Please yourself." Linton shrugged, pulling the bell rope. Danielle watched crossly as breakfast was removed. He could at least have attempted to persuade her!

"It is fortunate that you are accustomed to hunger," the earl remarked casually, coming over to the little bed, "because I do not intend that we should break our journey until dinnertime."

"What journey?" she exclaimed.

"Why, to Calais, of course," he said smoothly. "Isn't that where you wished to go?"

Danielle was, for once, silenced.

"Come along now," her mentor instructed brusquely. "I have to go out for about an hour. In my absence you will please me by dressing yourself in the clothes on the chair." A casual wave indicated the previous night's package. "And you will pack up my things. The portmanteau is by the window."

"I am not your servant!" Danielle gasped indignantly.

"You will be traveling in that guise," Linton stated flatly. "And, since you have just said that you do not wish for my charity, you should be glad of the opportunity to earn your keep."

The girl leapt from the bed in a flurry of bedclothes, hastily pulling the s.h.i.+rt to her knees as she faced him. "You, milord, are the most pompous, insufferable, arrogant . . . b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

She got no further. The earl seized her chin between hard, tapering fingers and Danny found herself looking into a pair of flinty eyes, the sculpted lips narrowed in a grim line.

"I warned you yesterday about that tongue of yours," Justin said with soft menace. "You have one hour, and if you are not ready by the time I return, I shall dress you myself." With that he turned on his heel and left the chamber with Danielle still standing openmouthed in the middle of the room. The sound of the key turning in the lock brought her back to a sense of reality and a wave of frustrated helplessness surged through her. How dared he? She began pacing the room with long angry strides, tears of rage p.r.i.c.kling her eyelids. But slowly the fury subsided as cold common sense rea.s.serted itself. Why on earth was she fighting him? Under his protection she could cross the Channel in a degree of safety and comfort. Time enough, once they reached Dover, to effect her escape and make her own way to Cornwall. She had lived on her wits for many weeks now; it was foolish to allow them to desert her now, simply out of pride.

During these calming reflections she had begun absently to examine the pile of clothing on the chair. They were the strong, warm, serviceable clothes of the servant of a wealthy and considerate master-corduroy britches, worsted hose, a linen s.h.i.+rt, and woolen jacket. The small clothes were clean if somewhat mended in places. The linen was not of the best quality certainly, but was an immeasurable improvement on her rags of recent weeks. She poured some water from the ewer into the basin and washed her face thoughtfully before stripping off the s.h.i.+rt and sponging her body. It was such luxury to feel clean again and the water, whilst not as hot as it had been, was blissful compared to the icy jets of a backyard pump.

Once dressed in a stranger's clothes she sat down to pull on the soft leather boots. Her feet, after weeks of wooden pattens, felt constricted, although the boots were clearly made for something bigger than the small, slender, high-arched feet of a de St. Varennes. Danielle examined herself critically in the mirror. She would pa.s.s, although without the dirt her disguise was not nearly as effective. The corduroy cap pulled low over her eyes certainly helped and at least it covered her roughly chopped curls. Tossing the cap onto the bed, she turned to survey the room. The earl was a tidy, well-ordered man and packing his possessions in the large portmanteau was a simple task, even for someone who, until two months ago, had never so much as thought of picking up after herself-that had been a task accomplished automatically by someone from the ranks of the family retainers. Not for the first time in recent weeks, Danielle wished that she had known the ident.i.ty of that busy, faceless someone.

She had just closed the portmanteau and was feeling a degree of satisfaction at a task well done when the key grated in the lock and the heavy door swung open. Linton made no comment as he took in the orderly scene, and for that she was grateful. Clearly he was gracious in victory.

"Come here, child. I must do what I can with that mangled hair. Who the devil cut it?"

"I did," she muttered uneasily, noticing for the first time the large pair of scissors he carried.

"Well, it is fortunate you have no aspirations toward barbering. I don't either, as it happens, but anything has to be an improvement. Sit over here." He gestured imperatively toward the chair in front of the mirror. With a slightly mutinous thrust of her bottom lip Danielle warily took her seat. Her protector draped a towel over her shoulders and began with a deep frown to tidy the much abused crop.

"You're cutting it all off," she wailed despairingly, watching the wheat-colored curls fall in profusion to her shoulders and onto the floor at her feet.

"Of course I'm not, you ridiculous infant. But to return any semblance of order to this mess I have to cut it very short."

Danielle subsided and for a long time the only sound in the room was the click-click of the scissors.

"That should do." The earl stood back surveying his handiwork critically. "What did you do with my comb?"

"I packed it, as instructed, milord," Danielle answered demurely.

Linton's eyes narrowed slightly but he said nothing, merely retrieved the article from the portmanteau and proceeded with unnecessary vigor to tug the curly mop so that it came to resemble somewhat a masculine style. Danielle's eyes were watering when he at last p.r.o.nounced himself satisfied.

"Now put this on, and let us have a look at you." Her cap sailed through the air, catching her unawares to fall at her feet. Biting back an angry retort, she bent to pick it up and crammed it on her head.

"Well, milord?" She couldn't keep the taunting note out of her voice as she stood, feet apart, hands on hips, facing his inspection. Just like some banty little rooster, Linton thought, as he examined her with quivering lip.

"If you keep your eyes down, the cap low, and your mouth shut we might brush through this ridiculous affair quite tolerably" was his only response. "Can you carry that portmanteau? It will look a little peculiar if I carry it myself with a servant on hand."

Danielle inhaled sharply, but stalked across the room and seized the piece of luggage with angry determination. It was very heavy and onfy with the most supreme effort at self control was she able to refrain from staggering under its weight.

The earl watched her with some amus.e.m.e.nt. "At least, while you have that in charge I won't have to worry about your running away."

The portmanteau hit the floor with a resounding thump as she turned to face him. "I will not run away, Lord Linton."

"No?" An eyebrow lifted quizzically.

"Word of a de St. Varennes," the small, rigid figure spat.

Linton bowed his acknowledgment. "In that case, my little vagabond, our journey should be a great deal pleasanter for both of us than I had antic.i.p.ated." He moved past her out of the door as befitted the master and seemed to pay no mind to the slight figure behind struggling with the heavy weight.

Monsieur Trimbel bowed low as his guest reached the foot of the stairs. His Lords.h.i.+p's reckoning had been paid and generous douceurs distributed amongst the staff. It wasindeed a pleasure to serve Milord Linton-even if he was on occasion somewhat unconventional. Mine Host covertly observed the small servant staggering in his master's wake. Cleaned of his dirt he looked positively respectable, but the memory of the kick and the virulent abuse still rankled and, with malevolent intent, the landlord stretched a foot casually in the boy's path as he reached the bottom stair.

Concentrating as she was on her efforts and the tug on her straining muscles, Danielle was blind to all else. Her foot caught against the obstacle and she tripped, falling in an ungainly heap after the portmanteau on the hard stone-flagged floor of the pa.s.sageway. She bounced to her feet as if the floor were a trampoline and turned her pent-up fury and frustration on the well-fed, complacent landlord in a torrent of animadversions on his parentage and on his virility, all the while kicking and clawing at the rotund belly, the short, fat legs in their leather britches, and the florid, well-wined face.

Linton had reached the courtyard door as chaos broke out behind him and he turned swiftly with a muttered oath. Having no idea what had happened to throw his brat into this fury he did the only thing possible. One hand at the collar of the woolen jacket, the other at the seat of the corduroy britches, he pulled her off the enraged landlord cowering under the a.s.sault.

"'E tripped me-'E did it a' purpose!" Danny shrieked, struggling in the invincible hold.

"I don't give a d.a.m.n what he did, you ragam.u.f.fin," the earl gritted in utter exasperation, still maintaining his grip. "Get that put into the carriage." He released his hold on the britches to jerk an imperious thumb toward both Monsieur Trimbel and the portmanteau and then propelled Danielle de St. Varennes by the scruff of the neck out of the inn, across the courtyard to the waiting coach. The hand again grasped the seat of her pants and she was lifted bodily off the ground to be tossed in an unceremonious heap upwards and into the vehicle. The portmanteau was stowed on top and the earl gave quick-fire instructions to both coachman and postillions before mounting the footstep, seating himself on the leather-squabbed seat and shutting the carriage door with a definitive slam.

"What the devil did you think you were doing? You're conspicuous enough as it is, without asking for notice, you little alley cat!"

Danielle, nursing both a bruised dignity and a bruised body, s.h.i.+fted on the seat opposite, contenting herself with a muttered stream of invective directed at landlords in general and one Monsieur Trimbel in particular. Linton's annoyance faded as his sense of humor got the better of him. How the devil had he allowed his exquisite, peaceful, well-ordered existence to crumble into ashes under the cataclysmic arrival of this outrageous wretch? What had happened to his usually utterly reliable sense of self-preservation when he'd decided on a whim to save a street urchin from what was probably well-deserved punishment? Not probably, indisputably, he decided caustically, as he regarded his urchin, still mumbling and muttering opposite.

The coach b.u.mped and swayed its way through the narrow cobbled streets. It was as well-sprung as one could expect of any hired traveling coach but nevertheless was unable to cus.h.i.+on its pa.s.sengers from the jolting, jarring effects of their progress. Linton, resigned to discomfort, held a supporting strap and stretched his long legs as far as was feasible in the cramped s.p.a.ce. His companion, however, seemed impervious to the discomfort. Compared with her usual mode of travel recently this was luxury, bearing only the most favorable comparison to the back of a hay wagon or the soles of her wooden shod feet.

Paris pa.s.sed under the intent scrutiny of a fascinated child peering through the small window in the door. Danielle's exposure to urban living had consisted only of a few days in Paris as a very small child on her way to England and her grandparents, and the last four days when she'd been scratching for a crust of bread in the back streets, earning the odd bowl of watery broth by sweeping out stores or running errands. Now, from the shelter of this private coach she could view the city with the holistic eye of an observer rather than through the myopic vision of a starved urchin.

They left the crowded, fetid narrowness of the inner city behind and began to move through the environs-still urban, still poor, but the air smelled cleaner. They pa.s.sed through the North Gate and were out in the countryside, their progress slowed by a farmer's wagon, lumbering slowly ahead as it returned emptied of its produce that had, as usual, fetched barely a subsistence price in the market that morning.

The day wore on. Two hours outside the city they stopped at an inn to change the horses. It was now well past noon and Danielle's stomach was beginning to rebel against her impetuous, prideful decision to go breakfastless. She had had nothing but a sip of water since the previous evening and although her belly was no stranger to hunger, its satisfaction last night seemed quite unaccountably to have created expectations of regular satisfaction. As her hunger blossomed her stomach growled with annoyance and Danielle lost all pleasure in the scenery and the novelty of the journey in her embarra.s.sment and irritation.

Linton watched her through half-closed eyes for a while before deciding that she had paid adequate penalty for her earlier obstinacy. Bending, he drew a small hamper out from beneath the seat.

"Here, child. This journey is quite tedious enough without the cacophonous demands of your empty belly."

Danielle took the basket with a dignified thank-you, but her eager fingers betrayed her as she opened it. A chicken leg, a meat pasty, half of a baguette, a large chunk of ripe cheese, and a strawberry tart nestled in the checkered napkin beside a bottle of lemonade. She raised her eyes to meet His Lords.h.i.+p's amused regard.

"Will you eat with me, milord?"

"Thank you, no, infant. If you remember, I broke my fast earlier."

Danielle abstained from comment although a pink tinge bloomed on the ivory skin. She returned her attention to the contents of the basket and with the ease and recovery of youth consumed every last sc.r.a.p, washed down with the refres.h.i.+ngly bittersweet taste of the lemonade.

In spite of her obvious hunger she ate with all the daintiness the earl had noticed the previous evening and-her repast ended-she wiped both face and fingers fastidiously before returning the napkin to the basket and the basket to the floor beneath her seat. Hot midafternoon sun filled the confined s.p.a.ce and Linton drew the curtains across the windows. They kept out the blaze, but an airless stuffiness filled the coach and Danielle felt the sticky trickle of sweat between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and under her arms. With a restless movement she tugged off the woolen jacket. Linton averted his eyes from the outline of those perfect b.r.e.a.s.t.s pressed against her s.h.i.+rt as she drew her shoulders back in her attempt to wriggle out of the tight garment. It was so much easier to forget this budding womanhood when his charge played the role of street waif. The next ten days or so were going to be a sore trial, he reflected gloomily, unless he could maintain a distance between them. He could do that only by treating her as a child. She would a.s.suredly resent that, but any conflict that ensued would be a great deal easier to manage than this overpowering arousal that swept through him at the indications, albeit unconscious on her part, of her very obvious attractions.

Without the heavy jacket, Danielle felt immeasurably more comfortable. The regular motion of the vehicle, the warmth of its interior and the fullness of her stomach all conspired to produce a wonderful feeling of lethargy creeping slowly through her body. She did not identify the main cause of this relaxation-that for the first time in an eternity, it seemed, she was safe and not obliged to keep her wits about her even in sleep as she planned her next move or reacted with instinctive wariness to whatever dangers her situation might hold from moment to moment. Since that February night of horror, she had lived on a knife-edge of fear and danger, and her constant watchfulness had become second nature as had the readiness to attack first and ask questions later. But now the presence of her large, lazy-eyed companion stretched at his ease across from her strangely made such wariness unnecessary. Her head nodded as her long lashes fluttered. With an effort she jerked awake again, glancing guiltily at Linton, but his own eyes appeared to be closed. With a soft sigh of contentment Danielle gave herself up to sleep.

The earl, despite appearances, was actually wide awake, watching the girl through half-closed eyes. The coach jolted violently over a pothole and he moved swiftly, catching the unconscious figure as it threatened to slip to the floor. With a reluctant smile he moved to the seat beside her, sliding a supporting arm around the slight figure. Danielle's head instantly found a resting place on a broad, velvet-covered shoulder. Reflecting ruefully on the speculation such a sight would give rise to, Milord resigned himself to a few cramped hours.

It was late in the afternoon when the coach halted for a second change of horses. Linton, gently disengaging himself, alighted into the small yard in front of a pretty country inn. Having requested a tankard of ale he was stretching his muscle-locked limbs when Danielle climbed sleepily from the coach, looking around her purposefully.

"What can I do for you, infant?" he asked with a smile. The coachman and postillions were refres.h.i.+ng themselves in the inn and no one was about to note this curious manner of addressing a servant lad.

"Actually, milord, you can do nothing for me. This is something I must do for myself." Shooting him a cheeky grin Danielle made her way down the garden path at the side of the building in the direction of the small, noisome outhouse at the rear.

The earl chuckled, wondering how Society would receive this most unusual candor. He found it immensely refres.h.i.+ng but suspected that his reaction would be shared by only a small minority. The girl was going to need a very firm hand guiding her path through the intricacies of life amongst the ton. In spite of her orphaned state she would not be dowerless-the Earl of March was a very wealthy man, well able to provide for his granddaughter, and his countess was one of the leaders of London society. The chjld's birth was impeccable and an excellent parti should be no problem to find-unless, of course, the story of her adventures became known to the gossips. Linton frowned, well aware that the most scandalous aspect of her escapades so far was his protection and their present mode of travel. She was hopelessly compromised by his companions.h.i.+p and its absolute necessity would be considered no excuse. There was but one acceptable solution and it was one he strongly suspected would be pressed most ardently by the Earl of March.

They resumed their journey. Danielle, refreshed by her nap and relieved by their halt, seemed disposed to conversation. But hers was a far cry from the artless prattle of the young girls of Linton's acquaintance. He found himself in the presence of an exceptionally well-informed mind whose interests ranged far and wide across the gamut of philosophy, the arts, horse-breeding, and, most particularly, politics. Her knowledge and insight about what was happening in her country both amazed and informed him. In fact, Linton reflected, she would probably be of more use to William Pitt at this time than he. He had gleaned some information and impressions during his brief stay but Danielle was considerably better informed, and her wanderings amongst the populace had given her an invaluable opportunity to gauge the mood of the people-an opportunity that she appeared to have used to best advantage. If it could be arranged without revealing too much of her personal story and endangering her reputation, a meeting between Daniellede St. Varennes and William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, could prove most enlightening to the latter.

When at long last they reached their day's destination some forty miles south of Calais they were both heartily sick of the carriage. Danny, in particular, was tired, hungry, irritable, and not disposed to accept with equanimity the earl's brisk instructions that she say nothing and do exactly as she was bid. Her self-appointed guardian, however, was equally irritable and not inclined to brook argument. A pithy description of the consequences of any disturbances similar to those at the Inn of the Rooster was sufficiently convincing to ensure a rather sullen compliance, and she followed Milord, in the manner of an obedient servant, across the courtyard and into the inn.

Mine Host, with much bowing and sc.r.a.ping, a.s.sured milord of the best bedchamber, a private parlor, and a superb dinner. His offer to provide the lad with a bed in the attic with his own servants was politely refused.

"The boy can be wild on occasion," the earl explained blandly. "I prefer to keep him under my eye-a cot in my chamber will suffice."

The landlord shot Danny an interested look-the lad didn't look wild, just rather sulky and effeminate.

However, appearances were frequently deceiving, and with a shrug, he dismissed the matter and went off to his cellar to bring up a bottle of the best burgundy for his discriminating guest.

"Come," the earl directed over his shoulder and began to mount the stairs after the serving wench deputed to show him to his chamber.

As there was no option, Danielle followed. The large airy room was p.r.o.nounced satisfactory, the portmanteau bestowed under the window, and steaming jugs of water placed on the dresser. Left to themselves again, Linton put up his quizzing gla.s.s and surveyed his charge.

"You do look the most complete urchin, Danny. I think- yes I really think we must contrive a change of clothes. If only one day's travel can reduce you to that state of disorder I dread to think what a week will do."

Danielle flushed crossly. "It's hardly my fault."

"I do not remember saying that it was," Linton clipped with a frown. "Do you think you could manage to stay out of trouble for an hour whilst I ponder the question and get out my own dirt."

Danny glared at him in soundless fury, then turned on her heel and whisked out of the room, slamming the heavy door resoundingly. She had gone no more than three steps before it was flung open and Milord's suddenly very soft voice arrested her.

"Come back here and shut this door properly." She bit her lip in frustration, but hesitated for only a second before turning to comply, linton had returned to the chamber insultingly sure of her obedience, leaving the door opened wide. She closed it gently and made her way downstairs and out into the cool remnants of daylight.

Linton, furious with himself for having provoked her unnecessarily, stripped, washed, and changed his clothes. It was amazing what a clean s.h.i.+rt and a fresh cravat could do for a man's temper and, in a much improved frame of mind, he went in search first of his urchin and then of the burgundy. He ran his quarry to earth in the large stone-flagged kitchen addressing a bowl of milk and a huge chunk of cheese whilst regaling the motherly landlady with some distinctly ribald stories.

The woman's fat cheeks shook with laughter as she stirred the aromatic contents of a pot on the vast range. "Oh, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, young man," she protested halfheartedly. "Such stories on the tongue of a babe!"

"Now what have you been up to, brat?" Linton lounged in the kitchen doorway.

Danny leapt instantly to her feet, her own temper much restored by the satisfaction of the inner self. "Oh, Milord, just imagine. Madame here was so sorry to hear of the loss of my cloakbag that she has offered me a suit of her youngest son's clothing. He's grown out of them, you see."

"Well, that is indeed kind of madame," the earl murmured, his eyes glinting with amus.e.m.e.nt-trust this indomitable creature to solve her own problems. "Perhaps you would like to change, then. I shall require you to wait at table when I dine."

"You'come on back to the kitchen afterwards, then, lad," madame said warmly, "and you can have your supper with our lads. We've a good rabbit stew waiting."

Danielle did not care for rabbit stew at the best of times, and particularly not when compared with the delicate repast being prepared for his lords.h.i.+p's delectation. However, she need not have worried. Linton had no intention of allowing Danielle de St. Varennes to spend the evening in the company of stablehands and pot boys, whatever her experiences in recent weeks.

"You are too kind, madame," he broke in smoothly, "but the boy remains with me. He may dine at my table when I have finished. We must make an early start in the morning and I wish him to have a clear head."

The landlady looked surprised but approving. Such concern for the health and morals of very youthful servants was unusual but gratifying.

"I'll fetch those clothes for you then, m'dear, and you bring those you're wearing back down here and I'll have them good as new by the morning." She bustled off leaving the earl to reflect that his vagabond could clearly charm the birds off the trees if she put her mind to it. In fact, the charming of farmers' wives was one of Danielle's stocks in trade, learned as a lonely child roaming the vast estates, frequently from sunup to sundown. She'd shared many a peasant meal over the years, repayed with coin or kind, whatever happened to be available to her at the time.

The landlady's son was clearly a lot fatter than Danielle and the britches showed an alarming reluctance to stay up over the slender hips. Frowning, she rummaged through the portmanteau-the Earl of Linton obviously did not have such problems; there was nothing remotely resembling a belt or cord. With a resigned shrug she broached the stack of snow-white cravats, twisted one into a strip with a rough brutality that would have made its owner wince, and tied it securely around the waist of the offending garment. Hardly elegant, but it would have to do.

Her arrival in the private parlor caused his lords.h.i.+p a moment of acute pain as he wrestled with laughter, amazement at her ingenuity and irritation that she should so calmly have rifled his possessions.

"You might have asked, Danny," he expostulated. "That is a most hideous abuse of a perfectly good cravat!"