Then he noticed how crowded it was. His eyes flew over the occupants. On one side of the carriage, a corpulent man was squeezed into the middle seat, flanked by two women. One was as thin as a whippet, middle-aged, prim and proper with round spectacles. The other one made him stifle a gasp of surprise. She was a nun, in full black and white habit. He couldn’t recall the last time he had seen a nun.
He turned to the other side of the carriage. There was seated another man, probably in his early middle age, with red-rimmed eyes and a three-day growth of stubble. The man flashed him a smile. The other occupant was a young woman wearing a plain brown dress and a bonnet with red roses. Her golden hair was just visible beneath it.
She turned her face towards him. Ambrose felt a flash of surprise and unease. She was beautiful,verybeautiful. A perfect heart-shaped face, with large grey eyes fringed by long dark lashes. Her complexion was so pale and unblemished that it reminded him of porcelain. Her lips were ruby red. He felt an instant stab of desire.
He cursed silently again. This was going to make the trip even harder to cope with than the unpleasant stench, which he now realised was emanating from the corpulent man. Because he was going to have to sit next to her, pressed up against her. It could be very embarrassing, indeed. He had no desire to sit in a state of arousal for the long days ahead.
But there was no way he could avoid sitting next to her. The red-eyed man was pressed against the far window, and there was no room to squeeze into the other side of the carriage. The only spare seat was next to the beautiful young woman.
Ambrose sighed heavily. How he wished he could have avoided this entirely. He was remembering now how crowded these public stagecoaches were. The long trip was going to be excruciatingly uncomfortable. And then there was the pain of being forced to converse with these people. He knew that at least one of them was bound to be a chatterbox.
He was just about to take the seat next to the golden-haired beauty when the carriage suddenly lurched forward. To his mortification, he lost his footing, falling right on top of her. There was simply nothing he could do to stop it.
Chapter 7
Delia stiffened as the coach lurched forward, watching in dismay as the tall, handsome dark man who had just gotten into the carriage stumbled and fell right on top of her.
She simply couldn’t believe it. The ignominy of this trip simply knew no bounds. She had been shocked when she entered the coach and seen how crowded it was. Two women were already passengers, one of whom was a nun. Two men were also on board, one who was so large he took up most of the opposite side of the carriage and another who was drinking furtively from a small silver flask he had hidden in his jacket pocket.
The large man reeked. She had been forced to press a handkerchief against her nose for the entire journey from Surrey to London. They had been delayed on the outskirts of London by a large brown cow that had been standing stationary in the middle of the road. The coach had been forced to pull over while the driver and another worker tried to coax the stubborn animal to the side of the road, using tufts of grass hastily pulled from a field. It had eventually worked.
And now this.
Her face flushed with embarrassment. She had never been so physically close to a man in her entire life, apart from Papa, of course. Instinctively, her hands flew to his chest, trying to push him away. She knew he hadn’t meant it, that he had simply been a victim of the lurching coach, but it was so improper. And it didn’t help that he was so very attractive.
She had been slightly shocked when he had gotten into the carriage. His presence seemed to fill the small space. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with hair as black as a raven. His complexion was dark, too, almost swarthy. His eyes were such a deep shade of brown they were almost black. He had a chiselled jawline. He was so handsome—one of the most handsome men she had ever seen.
He appeared to be a gentleman, judging by the quality and cut of his clothing. He wore a long dark greatcoat of the finest wool and shiny black boots. He had taken his hat off as he entered the carriage, but she had noted that was quality, too. She had realised she was gaping at him, but she hadn’t been able to help it.
Now, she became aware of the warmth emanating from him. His breath against her neck. She felt a tingle all over that she had never experienced before in her life. It was like her body was ever so slightly on fire. She felt her colour deepen and knew that her face probably looked like a beetroot. Desperately, she pushed against him.
He jumped off her, trying to stand. The coach lurched again, and they were away.
“I do apologise,” he mumbled, his cheeks a dull red. He couldn’t look at her.
Delia nodded, not trusting herself to speak. The handsome man took the seat next to her. There was an awkward silence. Then the large man burst into laughter, rocking with mirth.
“I bet you weren’t expecting that to happen today, squire,” he heaved, his round eyes twinkling as he gazed at the handsome man.
To Delia’s horror, everyone in the carriage joined in with the laughter, even the nun. The handsome dark man grinned but still looked embarrassed. Delia tried to smile, but she felt like her face was about to crack. She resolutely stared ahead, trying not to look at the handsome man. Her body was still tingling in that alarming way from their encounter.
The coach wound its way slowly through the teeming London streets. The nun took out some knitting from her bag. Soon the carriage was filled with the sound of clacking knitting needles. The red-eyed man took a sip from his flask again. Delia was certain there must be strong liquor in it, for why else would he be so furtive about it?
The other woman, the thin, spectacled one, took up her book again. Idly, Delia read the title. It was a book about educational theories and sounded as interesting as watching paint dry. She sighed, looking down at her hands. Tears suddenly filled her eyes.What was she doing here? How could she have done such a reckless, awful thing?
She felt like she had entered another world entirely. An unknown, frightening world where she didn’t know the laws or rules. She had been treated with kid gloves her entire life. She was the daughter of a marquess, a titled lady. This experience was so far removed from everything she had ever known.
Minnie’s brown dress irritated her skin. She had to constantly stop herself from scratching. She was used to wearing the very best quality fabrics, silks and fine muslins. She simply hadn’t realised how uncomfortable wearing a cheaper quality gown was. And the material was thinning and not very warm. There were snowflakes falling outside now. Delia huddled down, clutching Minnie’s thin coat tighter around her shoulders.
She had never felt colder or more frightened in her life.
Her heart lurched. Minnie would have reached Lord Stanton’s house by now. Someone would have discovered the truth—that she was a maid masquerading as Lady Cordelia Pelham. Delia’s blood ran cold as she thought of the trouble her beloved maid would be in. Papa had probably already been called for.How could she have done this to Minnie?
The brief burst of bravado that had spurred her to do this had vanished entirely. Now, all she could think about was the trouble Minnie would be in and the fact that her father was probably hunting for her already. There was simply no way she would get away with this.
Suddenly, she became conscious of the handsome man’s leg jostling against her own. This public coach was so small and crowded that it was impossible to keep an appropriate physical distance. Once again, she felt that strange tingling all over her body. It was inexplicable.
Her breath caught in her throat. This was going to be a tortuous trip, in more than one way, if she was forced to endure this embarrassment whenever he brushed against her. Resolutely, she kept her eyes away from him. She hadn’t really spoken with anyone in this coach yet, and it was probably for the best if she kept to herself as much as possible. She didn’t want any of them to suspect she wasn’t the woman she appeared to be. There was danger simply everywhere.