Regency Surrender: Scandalous Return. Janice Preston

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СКАЧАТЬ Eleanor saw him lean forward and glance across at Aunt Lucy, who appeared to be dozing ‘...you almost cause an accident by running in front of my curricle—an accident that was only prevented by my superior driving skills. I cut your injured horses free, rescue your aunt and maidservants, help pull your carriage upright, and now I am transporting you to an inn to recuperate, and still I do not warrant any praise for my actions. Tell me, Lady Ashby...’ his voice lowered to a husky whisper as he put his lips close to her ear ‘...what, precisely, can I do for you that will earn your approval?’

      Eleanor suppressed a quiver as his breath tickled across her sensitive lobe and caressed her neck. Risking a quick glance, she could see he was fully aware of the effect he was having on her. She stiffened, her earlier amusement vanquished. She ignored his question.

      ‘Do you travel far, sir? I do not believe you said where you are heading?’

      ‘No, I do not believe I did.’

      He did not elaborate, and Eleanor gritted her teeth against the extended silence, raising her chin and keeping her eyes riveted to the road ahead.

      Eventually, he sighed in an exaggerated fashion and continued, ‘I stay at Ashton for two nights. After that, I plan to visit Worcestershire before I return to London.’

      She itched to question him further, but held her silence.

      ‘Do you travel to London for the Season, my lady?’

      ‘We do.’

      ‘And do you go every Season?’

      ‘We do not.’ Two could play at being evasive.

      ‘Have you travelled far today?’ His voice quivered.

      ‘From Lancashire.’

      ‘North of the county or south?’

      She slanted a suspicious look at him.

      ‘Is that where you call home?’

      His voice was now definitely unsteady. Eleanor stifled her hmmph of irritation.

      ‘You, sir, are being deliberately provoking.’

      His laugh burst free. ‘Pax. I could continue this game of question and answer all day, but I suspect you do not share my enjoyment of the ridiculous. I shall not bore you with further impertinent questions.’

      Unreasonably, Eleanor was stung by his assumption that she lacked a sense of humour. She was unused to this kind of byplay between a man and a woman and she was aware her embarrassment caused her to appear stiff and unfriendly. Although why she should care about his opinion of her, she did not know. However well he spoke, he was not of her class. She wondered what he was—a prosperous farmer, perhaps, or a merchant or a military man?

      She felt his eyes on her and risked another sideways glance. He captured her gaze—his eyes warm, his expression open. His easy smile transformed his face, giving him a charm that Eleanor found instantly appealing. To her confusion, she read admiration in his regard and her blood heated instantly at the notion. She felt a telltale blush creeping up her neck and cheeks and, uncertain, she tore her gaze from his.

      She was her own woman—rare in this day and age—in control of her own life and finances, answerable to no one, not even her trustees since she had reached her twenty-fifth birthday. She was strong and decisive when running her estates, responsible for not only her own comfort and lifestyle, but also the livelihoods and well-being of everyone who worked for her, plus their families—a responsibility she discharged with assurance. However, for all her outward confidence, she found herself regressing to the awkward, tongue-tied girl of her past in the presence of Matthew Thomas, simply because he was passing time with a light flirtation. Her experience with Donald had caused her to doubt her judgement of men and their true intentions. And had Aunt Phyllis not warned her time after time of the danger of showing too much encouragement to any gentleman?

      ‘If you truly wish to earn my approval, sir, might I suggest that you keep your eyes upon the road? We have already suffered one upset today.’

      She fixed her eyes once more on the road ahead and it was with relief that she saw the Green Man come into view.

      As they pulled up in the courtyard of the inn, Aunt Lucy came to with a start.

      ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘it could have been another attempt on your life, Ellie.’

       Chapter Five

      Matthew, on the verge of springing from the curricle, paused, his interest roused.

      ‘Aunt Lucy! That is preposterous. Bonny’s death was an accident.’

      ‘You cannot be certain of that, Ellie. What about the fire at the Manor? Someone set that fire and lurked around to see what happened. He brained Fretwell to stop him rescuing you, in case you had forgotten.’

      ‘Brained...! Aunt! What a thing to say.’ Eleanor’s voice lowered, holding a clear warning. ‘Mr Thomas does not want to hear those wild conjectures. I’ll warrant it was as I said—a burglar, and Fretwell was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time.’

      ‘A burglar? In the library? Why would a burglar deliberately set fire to a pile of books? You must not dismiss this as coincidence.’

      Eleanor glared daggers at her aunt, who took no notice, continuing, ‘Your bedchamber is directly over the library and now a shot is fired at our carriage. Who knows what their intention was, but you are a common factor to both, you cannot deny it.’

      ‘I think you have been indulging in too many Gothic novels,’ Eleanor said. She laughed in a dismissive fashion, but Matthew caught the haunted look that flashed across her face. ‘That sort of thing simply doesn’t happen in this day and age. Do you not agree, Mr Thomas?’

      Matthew completed his descent from the curricle. Eleanor was regarding him with her brows raised, clearly awaiting his agreement, but he was by now intrigued. He would not be pressed to give his opinion before he knew the facts. He did not doubt that, beneath her dismissal of her aunt’s words, Eleanor was more troubled than she would admit.

      ‘I should prefer to hear the full circumstances before passing comment, my lady.’

      He assisted Eleanor from the curricle, biting back a grin when she snatched her hand from his as soon as she was on solid ground, her cheeks now glowing pink. She was certainly a woman of contrasts: one moment acting the grande dame, the next blushing like a schoolgirl. Not the response he expected from a married woman. Most likely her husband was one of those aristocrats—plentiful enough in the ton—who did not inconvenience himself with romancing his wife. A sad waste, in Matthew’s opinion.

      ‘In the meantime, ladies,’ he continued, with a pointed look at the innkeeper, who had emerged to welcome his guests, ‘I think we should continue this discussion inside, in private.’

      Eleanor turned to the innkeeper, but Matthew stepped forward to forestall her. He might not dress the gentleman, but his upbringing—slowly stretching and awakening after what seemed like a long sleep—dictated that he, as the man of the party, should deal with innkeepers and their ilk.

      ‘Good СКАЧАТЬ