Page 18 of Road Trip With a Rogue
The sun was sinking low in the sky as they traveled the few extra miles to Wansford Hall and Daisy’s spirits lifted as the mellow stone building came into view down the long drive. The place was like a second home to her, and she was looking forward to seeing the friendly, familiar servants after her unsettling day with Vaughan.
Mrs. Jennings, the housekeeper, came to the door when they rocked to a stop outside, and her face creased in adelighted smile when Daisy jumped down. It was a testament to their long history that she didn’t bat an eyelid at Daisy’s breeches, shirt, and overcoat.
“Miss Hamilton! What a lovely surprise! I’m so sorry, but Her Grace didn’t mention that you would be visiting.”
“It’s my fault entirely, Mrs. Jennings, a last-minute decision. I encountered a little bother on the road just outside London, but as luck would have it, I ran into the duke, who stopped to help. He was kind enough to escort me here.”
Daisy had decided it was best to embroider the truth a little.
Mrs. Jennings frowned. “The duke? You mean His Grace?”
“Oh, no, not Justin!” Daisy amended quickly, realizing the confusion. “The Duke of Cranford.”
Vaughan’s tall, dark figure descended from the coach, and Mrs. Jennings’s eyes widened before she bobbed a hasty curtsey.
“Your Grace! We are honored. Please, come inside and get warm. John will help your man with the horses.”
She raised her brows and shot an intrigued look at Daisy behind Vaughan’s back as they all entered the hall.
“Well, Your Grace, I’m sure you’ll be wanting a good dinner if you’ve been on the road all day. Simmons will show you to the blue bedroom. I’ll have hot water sent up for you right away.”
Vaughan nodded. “Thank you.”
“And Miss Hamilton, your room is always ready for you. I’ll send Hannah up in a minute to light the fire.” Her lips curved in a beatific smile. “I’m sure you’ll want to change for dinner.”
Daisy rolled her eyes at the subtle admonishment, but sent the elderly servant a fond glance. She’d have to donher stable boy disguise to continue the journey tomorrow, but there was no denying it would be nice to change into some fresh clothes tonight. She had a feeling she reeked of spent gunpowder.
Since she and Ellie visited Tess so often, they’d each been assigned their own bedroom, and Daisy kept a full wardrobe of dresses and accessories here.
Not that she cared to look remotely feminine or attractive for Vaughan’s benefit.
Mrs. Jennings nodded happily, always delighted to have people to care for. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and speak with Mrs. Ward and see what we can rustle up for dinner. If I’d known you were coming, she could have prepared your favorite puddings—I know how fond you are of her desserts, Miss Hamilton—”
“Whatever you decide will be delicious,” Daisy assured her. Her love of cakes and puddings was well known at Wansford.
The housekeeper nodded. “I’ll make sure she makes something you like. Shall we say nine o’clock for dinner?”
“That will be perfect, thank you.”
Daisy followed Vaughan and one of the male servants as they ascended the wide staircase. “Will Finch be all right? He can be assigned a room in the house if he’d prefer not to sleep above the stables with the grooms.”
Vaughan shrugged. “He’ll be fine. In the army we learned to sleep anywhere. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Chapter Nine
Lucien decided against wearing gloves down to dinner. As tempting as it was to frustrate Daisy’s unashamed curiosity about the extent of his injuries, it simply wasn’t practical.
Besides, she wasn’t the kind of woman who’d faint at the sight of a scar. She’d shot a man to save Geordie’s life, even though it had pained her, and Lucien could think of only a handful of other women of his acquaintance who would have had the guts to do the same.
He’d told her that he didn’t care what other people thought, but as he descended the wide staircase and made his way toward the dining room, he found himself oddly nervous about her reaction.
He hoped to God she’d changed out of her masculine clothes. She’d removed her overcoat halfway through the afternoon to reveal a loose jacket, a white shirt tucked into a pair of soft buckskin breeches, and a pair of scuffed leather boots.
Lucien had stifled a groan. The shirt was of poor quality, thin and darned in several places, and he kept getting glimpses of the chemise she wore underneath whenevershe moved. Even worse, the sleek length of her thighs was outlined with indecent clarity by the breeches.
The tails of the jacket concealed her backside when she was standing up, but when she climbed back into the coach, the curves of her buttocks were tantalizingly close and his hands had flexed with the desire to shape and stroke.
The only relief was the fact that she had no idea how much her proximity affected him. She never had, thank God.