Page 39 of The Ladies Road Guide to Utter Ruin (The Ill-Mannered Ladies #2)

39

The victory celebration for the emancipation of Lady Hester from her brother’s tyranny was necessarily short. Both she and Miss Grant were exhausted, and the ladies had hosted too many people for far too long.

After a toast, we bade our good-byes. Correspondence and visits were promised, and then Julia, Weatherly, and I were back in the phaeton, with Evan and Mr. Kent riding beside us. George and Lord Alvanley followed in the gig they had hired from the Hand Inn, where they were staying.

We parted company at the gates of that hostelry, George touching the brim of his impeccable beaver hat to me as they clattered across the cobbled courtyard.

Which reminded me of the odd promise I had given to Mr. Brummell. I told Julia and Weatherly what had transpired.

Julia sat upright. “You gave your word without knowing what you had promised?”

“I did. But I did not promise for you.”

“Well, thank heavens you learned that lesson in time,” she said, but leavened it with a smile. “I wonder what he wants you to do.”

“If I may say so, my ladies, Mr. Brummell is not what he seems,” Weatherly said from the groom’s seat behind us.

“I agree, but what makes you say that?” I asked over my shoulder.

“When I was at the Hand Inn changing the horses, I saw a man arrive. Very downtrodden, my lady, and he still wore an old parish beggar’s badge.”

“That is odd.” The requirement for beggars to wear a badge to be given alms had been repealed two years ago.

“I thought so, too, my lady. He said he had a message for Mr. Brummell but would not leave it for him. Instead, he insisted he would wait. The landlord was not keen on him staying, but the man would not budge. It made me wonder what business a beggar had with a man like Mr. Brummell.”

I could not even imagine George getting close to a beggar, let alone accepting a message from him. What was George involved in, and what was he about to involve me in too?

We drove in silence, Evan and Mr. Kent riding ahead, both slumped slightly in the saddle, even their excellent seats compromised by fatigue.

This was, perhaps, a good time to try to make amends.

“Julia, I have an apology to make. To you and to Lady Hester and Miss Grant, but they were too tired tonight so I will write to them.” I wet my lips. “When I was listening to Deele trying to stand his untenable ground, I realized I have been just like him, dealing with you and his sister in the same high-handed way. I am sorry for it.”

“You are nothing like Deele,” Julia said firmly. “His pigheadedness comes from a place of judgment and bigotry.” She leaned across and gently squeezed my shoulder. “Your pigheadedness comes from a place of love and a strong sense of justice. Of course I forgive you.”

“Thank you.” I caught her hand and awkwardly held it for a moment, squashed together with the handle of the whip I held.

“To be fair, I let it go on for too long,” she said. “You may think you are unstoppable, dearest, but you are not.” Then I heard the tone of her voice shift into a new gravity. “We have important choices ahead of us, Gus, and we must each make them alone. You must make the best choices for you. And I must make the best for me. Maybe our paths will be together, maybe they will not, but we cannot make them for each other or, indeed, because of each other.”

“I know. I do not like the fact of it, but I know it is true.” I looked at the two men riding ahead. “Different paths. Different lives.”

Julia leaned against me, her head upon my shoulder, an acknowledgment of this probable fork in our paths, and the bond between us.

···

Sometime later, Julia yawned and chafed her gloved hands.

“I should have thought to bring rugs,” she said. “I am chilled to the bone.”

I did not look at her, for my attention was fixed upon the road and the pair of hacks that the Hand Inn had supplied. The nearside gray was at least three hands taller than the bay, which had been causing a mismatch in their gait for most of the journey, particularly now that they were tired. “I would say we are not far from Davenport Hall. Half an hour at the most.”

Julia sighed. “I wish we did not have to go back.”

“Where do you propose we go otherwise?” I asked.

“I was only wishing. We have to go back or Duffy will have the whole estate out looking for us.”

“I do not fancy our audience with him.” I had the horses in a reasonable trot and smiled across at my sister. “Perhaps we could slip away before breakfast.”

“I am so tired I do not think I will be out of bed for a week, let alone before breakfast,” Julia said. “He is going to be so self-righteous and outraged.”

I nodded glumly and returned my attention to the road.

After another ten minutes or so, Mr. Kent suddenly sat forward in his saddle. He had plainly seen something. I peered along the dark road but saw only the moon-silvered woodland on either side and beyond it the vast, rolling moorlands. Both he and Evan pulled up their horses, waiting for us to halt between them.

“What is it?” Julia asked.

“Soldiers,” Mr. Kent reported. “They are combing the woodland on either side of the road up ahead.”

I still could not discern them, but he had soldiered for many years on the Continent before becoming a Runner, so he no doubt knew what he was talking about.

“It is probably Captain Morland, still searching for Luddites,” I said. “He will be surprised to see us again.”

Evan drew his mouth to one side, considering the potential problem. “I do not think it matters. What Lady Augusta and Lady Julia choose to do is no concern of the British Army. And Mr. Talbot and Mr. Kent and your footman are riding with you for safety’s sake.”

I was not entirely convinced. Captain Morland was not a fool, by any measure. To see us twice in one night coming from different directions might pique his curiosity.

Even so, we had to pass.

“Walk on,” I called to the horses, a short snap of my whip above their heads pressing home the command.

We continued, at a slower pace, Evan and Kent remaining on either side of the phaeton rather than riding ahead. I finally saw what Kent had seen much earlier: the flash of metal and the rustle of movement in a denser patch of woodland. Even with such knowledge, I flinched when a soldier stepped out in front of us and called, “Halt!”

We halted.

More soldiers emerged from the woods to stand upon the road. Finally, a pair of very familiar figures stepped out, the slighter man approaching our phaeton.

“Captain Morland, we meet again,” I said.

“It would seem so, Lady Augusta. Two times in one night.” He stopped at my side of the phaeton and bowed. “Well met, Lady Julia.”

“How pleasant to see you again, Captain,” Julia said, at her most charming.

Morland tilted his head back to observe Evan through those shrewd eyes. “And Mr. Talbot.”

Evan nodded his greeting. “Captain. Allow me to introduce Mr. Kent.”

The two men acknowledged each other.

“A Baker,” Morland said, gesturing to the rifle in Mr. Kent’s saddle holster. “You were rifle brigade?”

“Cavalry,” Mr. Kent said. “Light Dragoons.”

His answer clearly impressed the captain, for he made a small grunt of collegiality. “On the Continent?”

“France.”

That elicited raised brows and a nod: even more impressed. Mr. Kent was lending us a great deal of credibility.

“Are you still seeking Luddites, Captain?” Evan asked, and although it was said in his usual measured manner, I knew he wanted to move us along. Away from the captain’s keen eyes and cleverness.

“We are. There has been some report of a fracas upon this road. I do not suppose you have seen any unusual activity? Apart from yourselves, of course.” He smiled, but it was the smile of a man who knew something was awry.

“None at all, Captain,” I said. “We are returning from delivering friends to their home, but it has been a quiet drive, has it not, sister?”

“Indeed, very quiet,” Julia said. She pointedly chafed her gloved hands again. “And very cold, Captain.”

“Of course.” Morland bowed and stepped aside. “We will not keep you any longer from the warmth of Davenport Hall.” As I raised my whip in salute, he added with a dry underpinning, “Perhaps I will see you again this night.”

“I hardly think so, Captain,” I said, and urged the horses onward again. We passed the soldiers on either side of the road, their tired eyes following our progress.

Mr. Kent and Evan rode past us to take positions a little ahead, any sign of fatigue gone from their bodies. There was nothing like an encounter with the British Army to galvanize one into new energy. I felt it myself, suddenly far more awake than I had been a few minutes ago.

I snapped the whip over the horses’ heads. The sooner we removed ourselves from the vicinity of Captain Morland, the better.