Page 45 of Marry in Scandal
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, needed to visit the privy and can’t find the poky blasted cubbyhole where they put me,” the man babbled, backing away. “Didn’t see you there in the dark, Galbraith.”
A likely story. The fellow’s curiosity was legend. Perhaps Ned should have let Elphingstone think he was traveling with his mistress, instead of whetting the man’s curiosity with a mystery. But if he had discovered Lily’s identity then, she would have been ruined for certain. This way, there was at least a chance.
For the rest of the night Ned dozed on and off, but he rose at dawn with a plan in mind. He went in search of hot water, shaved and made his ablutions, then went to find Mrs. Baines. Big, bluff and hearty though the landlord was, Ned had earlier decided that Mrs. Baines was the true general in that family. He explained his scheme to her.
The good lady took a little convincing, but he offeredher a handsome payment and she finally agreed to his proposal. That achieved, he went upstairs and found Lily and Betty already awake and dressed. He explained his plan to them. Betty went in to strip the beds.
In the morning light the bruise on Lily’s cheekbone was dark and livid against her creamy skin, and there were faint lilac shadows beneath her eyes. But her eyes were clear and bright and lovely, with no shadow of a drug in them and for that he was thankful.
“How did you sleep?” he asked her while Betty bustled about in the next room.
“Surprisingly well, thank you.”
“No nightmares or other problems sleeping?” It would be perfectly understandable if she did suffer a reaction to her ordeal.
She shook her head. “No, it’s odd. I thought I might have bad dreams or wake up with night terrors of some sort, but I didn’t.”
“Perhaps the drug helped blot it from your mind.”
She considered the suggestion. “You know, that might be it. Thinking back, it’s almost as if that part of the journey—the part when I was shut in that horrid box—it’s almost as ifthatwere the dream. The nightmare. The bit that’s clearest in my mind is when I was out of the coach, in the cold air, hiding in the ditch, running away from Mr. Nixon, and... and...”
“And fighting him off very bravely,” he finished for her. Not to mention being hit across the face by the filthy brute.
She blushed at his praise. “You’re the one that fought him. But, if the drug has helped me forget it, and allows me to sleep through the night without nightmares, well, that’s something to be grateful for, isn’t it?”
“It is indeed.” Again he was impressed by her quiet courage. Most ladies of his acquaintance would be milking the situation for all it was worth, not trying to shrug it off. “Now, breakfast will be here in a few minutes. You’re clear on what to do when you go downstairs?”
She nodded, and Betty, coming back into the room, added, “Yep. I’m goin’ to enjoy this.”
As he went downstairs he ran into Elphingstone. As he expected. He’d swear the fellow was usually the type to snore the morning away, but this morning he was up bright and early in order to sniff out the mystery.
“Morning, Elphingstone. Sleep well?”
“Not in the least. I passed a very disturbed night,” he snapped. “I’m sure there were fleas in my bed!” Either his valet had not yet attended him—which seemed unlikely—or he was displeased with his master: Elphingstone’s hair had lost a good deal of its puff and was distinctly lopsided.
“Join me for breakfast in the taproom?”
Elphingstone hesitated, and glanced up to the landing outside Lily’s room, but Ned left him no choice. “I’ll order for us both. Meet you in the taproom in five minutes.”
Ned ordered breakfast for two and, while he was at it, quietly informed Mrs. Baines that Elphingstone was a notorious London gossip, out to make trouble for himself and his sister. He told her he planned to smuggle Lily out of the inn as soon as possible after breakfast.
“A nasty gossip, is he? I thought as much,” Mrs. Baines said in a voice that boded no good for Elphingstone. “Driven us all mad, he has, with his finicking ways and fussing about this and that—nothing is ever good enough for Lord Fancypants. Well, who asked him to stop here, I ask you?”
Ned added fuel to her already smoldering fire. “He told me there were fleas in his bed.”
“Fleas!”Mrs. Baines’s already impressive bosom swelled mightily. “How dare he! I’ll give him fleas! Don’t you worry, sir, I’ll make sure he stays well away from your sister. Fleas indeed!” She marched away.
After a large and sustaining breakfast, Ned sent for his carriage to be brought around. “Leaving, eh?” Elphingstone said.
“Yes, you’ll be able to rent the room tonight.”
Elphingstone snorted. “Not if I can help it. Demmed wheelwright ought to have my carriage ready by now. Sent my man around to check.” He remained loitering in the hotel entryway, feigning interest in a collection of horsebrasses displayed on a wall and peeping curiously up the stairs from time to time.
Waiting for Ned’s “young relative” to appear, no doubt.
A few moments later a female figure, enveloped in a faded blue cloak, appeared at the top of the stairs, peered out from beneath the capacious hood as if to check that the coast was clear and then hurried downstairs.
Elphingstone sprang forward. “Let me help you, my dear. My name is Elphing— Oh!” he exclaimed as Betty pulled back the hood.