A Regency Baron's Bride. Sarah Mallory

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      Joshua ignored her. When she realised that he had no intention of asking for directions she decided she would have to act. As they drew abreast of the man she leaned over the side of the gig and called out to him.

      ‘I say, my man—yes, you: which one of these roads leads to Halifax?’

      She was not used to accosting strangers, and a mixture of nerves and irritation at her companion’s stubbornness made her tone much sharper than usual. The man turned slowly and looked up at her from beneath heavy dark brows. Kitty found herself facing the blackest, fiercest stare she had ever encountered.

      It was as much as Kitty could do not to recoil from the stranger’s angry glare. With some alarm she realised that Joshua no longer intended to drive past. He brought the gig to a halt and the man walked over to stand before them, looking very much as if he would drag her from the gig at any moment. Swallowing hard, she sat up straight, determined not to show fear. She said haughtily, ‘Did you understand me, fellow?’

      Those piercing black eyes held hers for a moment, then they swept over her, from the crown of her bergère bonnet down to the nankeen half-boots peeping out from under the hem of her walking dress. Kitty had the unsettling feeling that he could see right through her clothing to the flesh beneath. She felt thoroughly exposed and her cheeks flamed. She snapped her head up and stared straight ahead.

      ‘Drive on, Joshua.’

      The stranger’s long arm shot out and one big hand caught the pony’s bridle.

      ‘Nay,’ he said in a slow, deep drawl. ‘First tha needs to know t’road.’

      Kitty shot a furious look at him.

      ‘Then perhaps you would be good enough to tell us!’

      ‘I’ll tell thee nowt afore I hears a civil word from yer ladyship.’

      Joshua shifted uncomfortably beside her. Kitty wondered that he did not stand up to the stranger, but a moment’s consideration told her that her companion, a stocky youth of sixteen, was no match for the tall, broad-shouldered stranger some ten years his senior. The man stood at their pony’s head, one hand gripping the leather cheek-piece while the other stroked the animal’s neck with slow, reassuring movements. The pony, traitor that he was, turned his head and rubbed against the stranger’s arm.

      Kitty realised that, however angry the man might be with her, he was in control of himself and the situation. They could not move on until he allowed it.

      She ran her tongue over her dry lips.

      ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said politely. ‘Pray be good enough to direct us to the Halifax road.’

      Silence.

      It dragged on for a full minute. Kitty gave the stranger a challenging look but he did not move, merely stared back at her with his unfathomable black gaze. He looked as hard and immobile as the rocky granite outcrops that littered the moors.

      Joshua rubbed his nose. A bullock cart lumbered up to the junction and turned along one of the lanes but still the stranger held Kitty’s eyes. Then, just when she was wondering if Joshua would dare to use the shotgun that she knew lay beneath the seat, the man stepped back.

      ‘That’s thy road.’ He pointed to the lane where the bullock cart was disappearing around a bend. ‘Just follow yon wagon t’bottom of t’hill.’

      With a slight nod of acknowledgement Joshua flicked the reins and they began to move.

      ‘Thank you.’

      Kitty felt obliged to utter the words as they drove away, but she kept her eyes fixed on the road ahead. From the tail of her eye she saw the man tug his forelock but there was nothing subservient about the gesture and she could not shake the horrible conviction that he was enjoying her discomfiture.

      ***

      Daniel Blackwood watched the gig pull away, a deep crease in his brows. He was in the worst possible humour but he should not have taken it out on that young couple. He had been travelling since yesterday afternoon, his horse was lame and he had been obliged to spend the night on the moors. He was in a devil’s own temper and it had not been improved by being addressed by an arrogant chit as if he was a lackey!

      He had seen the gig approaching, but knowing the young couple could do nothing to help him he had ignored it, only to be summoned like a servant to give directions. True, the girl was young and pretty, but he was in no mood to appreciate the heart-shaped face, the large green eyes fringed with dark lashes or the dusky curls that escaped from beneath her wide-brimmed straw bonnet. He watched the gig rolling away down the hill, the little figure in her green robe and yellow bonnet sitting rigidly upright beside the boy who was driving. Probably some farmer’s daughter trying to impress her swain by acting the great lady. Well, she had chosen the wrong man to try out her airs and graces!

      With an angry snort he bent to pick up his greatcoat and hat from the grass verge and gathered up the reins of his horse.

      ‘Come up, Marnie. I’ll walk you to the inn and Fletcher can keep you there until you’re fit to come home.’

      Kitty arrived at the Crown and was informed by the landlord that she was expected: Mr and Mrs Midgley were waiting for her in the coffee room. Kitty nodded and he directed one of his servants to carry her trunk across to the travelling carriage standing in the middle of the yard. Before stepping into the inn she turned to say goodbye to Joshua, thanking him for his trouble and pressing into his hand a sixpence which he was somewhat embarrassed to take, but she insisted. She watched him drive away in the gig, a tiny pang of homesickness mingling with the excited anticipation she felt for the journey ahead of her.

      Mr and Mrs Midgley greeted her with unfeigned delight, declaring that she had not kept them waiting at all, and begging her to sit down and join them for breakfast before they set off.

      ‘For if I am not mistaken,’ said Mr Midgley, twinkling at her, ‘you were up before dawn, miss, and too excited to take a bite to eat.’

      ‘Very true,’ laughed Kitty, removing her bonnet and shaking out her dark curls. ‘If you are sure we have time?’

      ‘All the time in the world, my dear,’ replied Mr Midgley. ‘We travel to London in easy stages. I don’t mean to press the horses, for we shan’t be changing them again for some while, unlike the mailcoach.’

      ‘Nor will we be careering along at such a breakneck speed,’ added Mrs Midgley, chuckling. ‘So come along, my dear, sit by me and you can tell me how your dear mother does.’

      Kitty readily complied. She was not well acquainted with her hosts but their warmth and kindness soon broke down any reserve and she found herself chattering away quite naturally while they breakfasted upon freshly baked bread rolls and scalding coffee.

      ‘So you arrived in style, Miss Wythenshawe,’ remarked Mrs Midgley, when they had finished their meal and Mr Midgley went off to check if their carriage was ready. ‘You say the farmer’s boy drove you in his gig? I have no doubt your mama was very pleased you were not obliged to travel here with the poultry for market!’

      ‘If I had done so then my driver might have known the way,’ replied Kitty with a sigh.

      She decided not to recount the incident at the crossroads. The man had СКАЧАТЬ