Page 13 of Road Trip With a Rogue
He gave a disgusted sniff, apparently unimpressed by her charity.
“How bad is your coachman’s wound?”
“He’s had worse. Geordie and I were together at Waterloo. He took a bullet to the leg and lost half his teeth when a horse fell on him. This is nothing.”
“Does he need to see a surgeon? He said the shot was still in his arm.”
“Yes. He’ll make his way back to London and find a sawbones as soon as it’s light.”
“Don’t you need him to drive the carriage?”
He shrugged. “Finch can do it. Although I’m sure he’ll moan like the devil while he’s at it.” His lips twitched, as if the thought of aggravating his friend amused him, and Daisy almost rolled her eyes. Her brothers were exactly the same, always laughing whenever some minor misfortune befell their companions. She supposed it was how men showed their love for one another.
“Violet and Peregrine will need to change horses inanother ten miles or so, at Hatfield,” she said. “I wouldn’t have thought they’d stop for the night so close to London, but who knows? We might be lucky and discover them there.”
“Perhaps.” Vaughan’s expression indicated his skepticism. “But if it were me, I’d travel all night and try to put as much distance between myself and any possible pursuers.” He sent her a pointed look.
Daisy sniffed. “I’ve been told that neither of them has been overly blessed with brains, so perhaps they won’t think of that. Besides, traveling at night is stupidly dangerous. Disregarding the possibility of being waylaid by highwaymen, the chances of having an accident are much higher. Let’s hope their coachman counsels staying at an inn.”
They lapsed into silence, and Daisy tried not to fidget. The last thing she wanted was to converse with Vaughan, but she needed a distraction from listening to his breathing, so close, and the annoyingly delicious scent of his clothes. Besides, she might never get to talk to him in private again. She might as well seize the chance.
“Devlin was at Waterloo too. He said it was awful.”
Vaughan remained looking out of the window at the darkness. “It was. It’s a miracle any of us got out of there alive.” His lips compressed in a dark line. “And I didn’t emerge completely unscathed.” He raised his gloved left hand. “My hand and forearm were burned when a grenade exploded near me.”
Daisy nodded. She’d heard of his injury, and subsequent slow recovery, from her brothers. She’d even swallowed her pride and sent a sympathy card when he’d first returned to London, but she had no idea if he’d read it. He’d probably thrown it in the fire.
Still, her heart clenched at the thought of the pain he must have suffered. He might be a heartless scoundrel, but she wouldn’t wish such a punishment on anyone.
“Does it still hurt?”
“Not anymore.”
“Are you embarrassed by your scars? Is that why you always wear gloves?”
He gave a soft snort of amusement. “I’m not embarrassed. I don’t care what people think. But they’re unsightly. Wearing gloves spares me the looks of revulsion or pity from ladies with delicate constitutions.”
Daisy almost dared him to show her; to say that she wasn’t one to faint at the sight of a scar, or blood, but she held her tongue. She didn’t need to impress him.
She cast around for another subject, but to her surprise, Vaughan turned to look at her and spoke again.
“Devlin. David. Dominic. Dorothea. What was your parents’ fascination with names beginning withD?”
Her lips tugged upward. “I’ve no idea. But I wish they’d chosen something better for me. Damaris. Delilah, even. I hate Dorothea. I prefer Daisy.”
He shook his head. “Ah, but the daisy is a common flower, and there’s nothing common about you. You’re the daughter of a duke.”
She gave a bitter snort. “I’m no more a duke’s daughter than you are, and the whole of society knows it. My brothers might have Dalkeith’s blood, but my real father was Lorenzo Mancini, the Italian fencing master. My mother ran off with him a year after I was born. They live in Italy. Near Florence.”
He tilted his head. “The duke’s always acknowledged you as his, so you’re legitimate in the eyes of theton. You have all the wealth and privilege of the position.”
“True. I can’t complain. Better the secretly illegitimate daughter of a duke than the legitimate daughter of a pauper.”
“Do you resent your mother for abandoning you?”
She frowned, surprised by the intimacy of the question. She’d barely discussed such things with Tess and Ellie, her best friends in the world. But Vaughan’s bluntness was oddly refreshing. It was preferable to the whispers and sly innuendoes she’d endured from other members of theton.
“I don’t blame her at all. I understand why she made the decision.”