Danice Allen Page 15
“Miss Darlington?”
The subject of her fantasy had been close enough to touch all day, and now he was even closer. He leaned forward with a questioning look on his arrestingly handsome face. The golden-brown eyes were eloquent with feeling; the mouth was drawn into a serious line. In that moment, Amanda decided that she needed just a little more time with him, just a few more memories to be carefully treasured over the years.
“Are you all right?” John inquired gently.
“No, I am not,” she admitted with a weak and rueful smile.
His brows lowered in a concerned frown. “What can I do to assist you, madam?”
“You can open the trapdoor in the ceiling and tell Theo that we are not to stop at the Charleston Arms.”
“Indeed? And where are we going to stop?” he wanted to know.
She shyly averted her eyes. “Somewhere more … discreet.”
Chapter 10
The Angel Inn was several blocks from the center of town and out of the way of the general flow of traffic. It was a clean, modest establishment with a gracious landlord and, best of all, enough vacant rooms that Amanda and John were not compelled to share a bedchamber again.
Without consulting her, John introduced them as husband and wife. Amanda was a bit miffed at John’s high-handedness at first but then realized that one more night pretending to be his wife was exactly what she wanted, anyway. That was why she’d decided to go along with his wish to stay in a more discreet location than the very prominent Charleston Arms. He seemed to want a few more hours of anonymity without the chance of running into someone he knew in town, and she wanted a few more hours of his company.
Remembering how exciting it felt to be with a man like John would console and amuse her during many lonely nights in the future. She forced away thoughts of all the people who were probably worried about John and told herself that it was all right to be selfish just this once. They—whoever they were—could have him back tomorrow. Tonight, she wanted him all to herself.
Not in her bed, of course; she was not that lost to reason and common sense. However, she knew she was courting temptation by spending another night with him under the same roof. But it seemed mat she and temptation had lately become bosom beaux.
As the landlord, Mr. Tebbs, preceded them up the stairs to their chambers, he kept up a friendly, steady chatter. Amanda was thankful for this because ever since she’d told John that she preferred not to stay at the Charleston Arms, an awkward silence had built up between them. She’d taken him by surprise.
Once or twice she’d caught him giving her speculative, measuring glances. He was obviously wondering what she intended. But his expression was puzzled and waxy rather than lecherous. However, if he had leered at her, who could blame him for doing so after what happened that afternoon behind the church? She hadn’t exactly been a shrinking violet.
“Here we are, milord, milady. Two rooms exactly next to the other and with a door betwixt fer yer convenience.” Mr. Tebbs, a short, rotund man with a hospitable smile, bobbed his bald head genially. He opened both doors and stood aside for. Amanda’s and John’s inspection. “I hope they’ll do?”
Amanda felt herself blushing at the “convenient” arrangement. The kindly landlord must have noticed her heightened color, and before John could reply to his first question, he asked a second question. “Are ye newlyweds, then?”
“Yes, er … we are,” John replied. “About as new as they come,” he added dryly.
“Too bad ye had a bereavement so soon after yer nuptials,” Mr. Tebbs murmured sympathetically, making a somber face as he seemed to suddenly notice Amanda’s black dress. His smile came back full force as he went on, “But ye’re young and ye’ve got yer whole lives t’gether. There’s ups and downs, but ye’ve got each other to help get through the downs, eh?”
Amanda glanced at John to see how he was taking the landlord’s familiar manners and his folksy philosophizing. She was relieved to observe that he wasn’t acting a bit high-in-the-instep, like so many men in his station of life might do, but was readily returning the landlord’s smile.
“Thank you, sir, the rooms will do perfectly,” he said with a friendly but authoritative nod of dismissal. “Remember, we want the private parlor for dinner at eight.”
“Right ye are, milord,” said Mr. Tebbs, bowing himself down the hall, his smile still intact. “Dinner at eight with all the trimmings, just like yer lordship said.”
When the landlord disappeared round a comer in the narrow hallway, John turned to Amanda. “He’s a great improvement over Mrs. Beane, isn’t he?”
“Indeed he is,” Amanda agreed, finding it impossible to meet John’s eyes now that they were alone.
John lifted her chin with his forefinger and made her look at him. “You do plan to take dinner with me, don’t you?” He was standing much too close, and Amanda felt desire rise inside her, steamy and vaporous.
Against her better judgment, she replied, “Yes. I have to eat, don’t I?”
A smile tugged briefly at the comers of his mouth. “But I wouldn’t put it past you to eat in your room, refusing my company altogether … after what happened today.”
“I was as much at fault for what happened today as you were.”
At her halting admission, John’s eyes took on a tender expression that caused her heart to beat erratically. “You’re very generous,” he murmured, sliding his knuckles down the side of her face, then cupping her chin lightly. “But a true gentleman would have considered the influence of the elderberry wine and not taken advantage of you as I did.”
Amanda struggled internally, then bravely informed him, “That’s very generous of you, but I must also confess that the elderberry wine had nothing whatsoever to do with my forward behavior.”
For a long moment John seemed to consider this last impetuous burst of honesty. It was a moment charged with a tension that hinted at possibilities … possibilities they both considered but which neither of them dared speak of. His warm fingers, still curled over the curve of her jaw as he cupped her chin, tightened. He lowered his head, then halted halfway down, seeming to think better of it before he actually kissed her. His hand dropped to his side, and he stepped back a pace.
Amanda was glad he commanded a measure of self-control she so obviously lacked. Her lips pulsed with longing, but reason told her it was better this way. She knew only too well that it would be difficult—nay, impossible—to stop with a kiss.
“There’s time to rest before dinner,” he told her, his manner altered to a cautious politeness. “It’s been a long day.”
She nodded meekly and backed into the room. “Will you be resting, too?”
“Yes. But first I need to speak to Theo.”
“To Theo? Why?”
“I need him, or one of your other servants, to run an errand for me. I borrowed Mrs. Beane’s dead husband’s dull razor to shave myself yesterday … with disastrous results.” He rubbed his raspy jaw and smiled ruefully. “I want a new blade. Since I am dining with a lady tonight, I am determined to look the gentleman.” And act the gentleman, too, was the message his dark eyes conveyed.
Amanda was flattered and thankful that John respected her, but a part of her wished they could forget for a few hours who she was and allow respect to give way to desire. She firmly pushed aside the improper thoughts and smiled gratefully at John.
“Shall we meet here in the hall at eight?” he suggested.
“Yes. At eight,” she agreed, then slowly shut the door, peering round the edge of it at John till the very last moment.
With the door finally closed, she leaned against it with her eyes shut, trying to compose herself. Who was she trying to fool? There was no use languishing by the door; she’d not be able to compose herself till John was out of her life forever. But she had one more night to enjoy her discomposure, and she walked eagerly to the bellpull by me bed and gave it a yank, summoning the chambermaid. She was going to have a bath.
Theo sat near the barrel on a stool at the bar, watching the barkeep fill a mug with a golden-brown liquid topped with froth. Judging by his mellow demeanor, he’d already downed a few mugs. All the better to ferret information out of him, thought Jack. There were other people and a fair amount of noise in the room, but Theo seemed to sense Jack’s approach and turned to watch him as he walked to the bar and sat down in the vacant stool next to him.
“Hello, Theo,” said Jack, crossing his arms and leaning on the bar.
Theo stared straight ahead and took a long sip from his mug before answering with grudging respect, “Good evenin’ to you, sir.”
“You don’t like me very much, do you, Theo?”
Theo smiled grimly. “If I answered truthfully, sir, it’d be considered disrespectful on my part … sir.”
“You don’t owe me any respect. You don’t know me from Adam.”
“It’s plain t’ see, sir, ye’re a swell. It’s my bound’n duty to kowtow t’ me betters. Part of the job, y’ see.”
“Your job is to drive Miss Darlington about England as well as to protect her when need be.”
Theo turned and eyed Jack balefully. “That’s what I’ve been tryin’ t’ do, but ye’ve made my job considerable harder.”
“I assure you, Theo, I have no desire to harm your mistress.”
“That’s not what I see’d when I caught you two by the stream today,” Theo said accusingly.
“That was a mistake,” Jack replied briefly, then hurried on to the matter he had come to discuss. “But it does prove what can happen when a woman travels alone … even with devoted servants for protection. I wonder that her brother allows it.”
“She ain’t got a brother. Where’d you get such an idea? She ain’t got no one but her old-maid aunts since her mother and father died six months ago.”
So here was the definitive proof he’d needed to support his conviction that she’d been lying about picking up her brother’s—or was it her sister’s?—child to tend while he or she went on holiday with his or her spouse. Now, what was the truth?
“All the more reason to be alarmed at her undertaking this trip to Thorney Island alone,” he ventured further. He lowered his voice and spoke confidingly. “The nature of Miss Darlington’s business there is distressing, is it not?”
Theo peered suspiciously over the rim of his raised mug. He took another long sip, then said, “Miss Darlington’s business on Thorney Island is none of yer business, sir.”
Jack rested his jaw on one fist and shrugged nonchalantly. “Ah, but she’s already told me all about it. Don’t you think it a shocking situation?” Jack considered “shocking” a fairly safe adjective to use. Almost anything of a serious nature could be called shocking.
Theo stared at Jack for a long, considering moment. Jack maintained his sober expression and endeavored to look as sincere as possible. He apparently convinced Theo that he enjoyed Miss Darlington’s confidence, because the coachman shook his head disgustedly and said, “Bah! I can’t believe she’d go and tell ye such a thing. It’s shocking, all right. And it’s my opinion that the lit’l bastard had ought t’ be left where it is. It’s a shame t’ the family. The late master and missus wouldn’t allow the child t’ be brought t’ Darlington Hall when they was alive, and I say it ought not t’ come now after they’re dead and gone. Leave well enough alone, is what I say!”
This little diatribe evidently made Theo thirsty, as he buried his face in his brew and finished it off. Jack was apparently not expected to reply. He was glad of the reprieve because he frankly did not know what to say! He was in shock!
Part of what Miss Darlington had told him about her reason for going to Thorney Island was true; she was indeed picking up a child. But the child was not her nonexistent brother’s offspring … it was hers! Miss Darlington was the mother of an illegitimate child!
“Barkeep,” said Jack, his voice a thready rasp. “I’ll have a tumbler of Scotch. And be quick about it, if you please.”
Amanda checked her appearance in the mirror above the tallboy. Her complexion glowed from her recent bath, and she felt fresh and warm and rosy. A sense of excitement, of anticipation, also contributed to her blushing cheeks. After all, she was going to dine and spend the evening with a very amusing, charming, and attractive man. And she was determined, for once, to enjoy herself without suffering pangs of ridiculous guilt.
She’d even gone so far as to alter her mourning apparel to something a little less severe. She had brought only black gowns with her, so there was no changing that, but she had also brought along a silk shawl Aunt Prissy had given her for Christmas last year. It was black, but it was thickly embroidered with exotic flowers in soft pastel colors and edged with a long knotted fringe.
Since her parents had died, she’d never worn it in public, thinking it unseemly and far too pretty to be seen in while she remained in a state of mourning. But tonight she was going to make an exception to that inflexible rule. Tonight she wanted to look her best.
The dress she’d chosen for the evening was a lightweight flowing silk with a high collar trimmed with a velvet band. There were a dozen shiny round black buttons down the bodice to the empire waist, and puffed sleeves with a deep flounce of black lace falling to below her elbows. With the shawl draped over her shoulders and flowing over the natural bend of her arms, the effect was quite elegant.
Her hair, too, was different. Instead of pulling it back into a tight knot at the base of her skull, she wound it into a loose coil and pinned it up much higher than usual. The result was extremely flattering, the natural waves of her hair framing her oval face with a fuller, softer look.
Tentatively pleased by her less severe appearance but a little afraid of the underlying reasons why she was taking such pains to look nice, she stepped away from the mirror and moved to the window that looked out over the limestone walls that enclosed the stable yard at the back of the inn.
To the sides of the cobbled yard, she could see other buildings and part of a stretch of the road that led into the more populous area of Chichester. People were still trudging up and down the walkway, their wraps pulled snugly about them as the chill and fog of an autumn evening crept over the town.
It was the last eerily gray moments of dusk, and as Amanda watched, it started raining. The aspect grew instantly quite dark and dreary, and she could hear the distant rumble of thunder and see flickers of lightning. It appeared that the storm was building in intensity and moving in their direction. She hoped Theo had returned from his errands in town and would not get caught in a sudden deluge.
Amanda turned away from the window, walked to the bed, and sat down. She was nervous. She glanced at the small clock perched atop the narrow mantel above the fireplace. It was half past seven. Thirty more minutes before dinner. She played nervously with the top button of her gown, rolling the smooth porcelain between her thumb and forefinger.
She frowned, thinking about how disconcerted she’d felt when John announced that he was sending Theo into town for a new razor blade. She had hoped that Theo had not already left the premises to underake her own commission to run an errand, therefore giving John reason to suspect something was afoot.
Something was afoot, of course. When they’d arrived at the Angel, Amanda had given Theo a note to take to the local constable’s office as soon as he’d whet his whistle in the taproom and rested up a bit. The note indicated that John needed assistance in locating relatives in order to establish his identity. But she instructed the police to come in the morning to fetch him and not before, as he needed a restorative night�
��s sleep before facing the gruelling aspect of a long trip to London on the morrow.
Amanda felt like a traitor. She knew John didn’t want his amnesia dealt with in the usual ham-handed fashion by the local police, and for some reason, he had an aversion to going to London. But what else could she do? As his memory had not returned yet, it seemed a stubborn case and one which probably required as its cure the jolt of seeing someone he knew intimately. She could not assist him in this matter as she had important matters of her own to attend to. Matters he could know nothing about. She had no choice but to notify the authorities and relinquish John and his problems to them.
Suddenly the room darkened, and rain blasted against the casement window. The flames in the fireplace shuddered and danced from a burst of air coming down the flue. A flash of lightning and an immediate crash of thunder fairly shook the decorative copper plates off the mantel. Amanda pulled her shawl close about her and moved to the window.
The wind was playing havoc with everything and everyone in its path. People were huddled in their coats and rushing for shelter. There was a tempest brewing, and Amanda stood and watched it with a curiously delighted smile on her lips. She enjoyed a good storm. She always had. But tonight she felt more than usually stirred by the kickup Mother Nature was waging.
In a burst of enlightenment, she understood the connection between herself and this particular storm. Tonight, and indeed ever since she’d met John, her own heart and soul were a tempest … a tempest of feelings and yearnings she could hardly contain. With each clap of thunder and each preternatural glow of electricity that momentarily brightened the room, her restlessness increased. She started pacing.
Her usual enjoyment of a storm was intensified tenfold. This time she was stirred to a point of feverish excitement that was growing moment by moment quite strangely … uncomfortable. It seemed there needed to be a climax … a blinding blaze of lightning, a deafening roar of thunder, then a soothing quiet with only the mesmeric drip, drip, drip of rain off the roof.