Regency Society. Ann Lethbridge
behind me. It is possible that he saw me. He might not have known it was me then, but he perhaps realised it later.’
Richard’s eyes went over her. ‘If I knew you before we met, I should not have been fooled for a moment,’ he told her. ‘To a stranger you might pass for a pretty youth, but to anyone who knows you…’
‘Then he must think I am with you for a purpose,’ Georgie said. ‘He may think that I can help you to recognise him…or something of the sort…’
‘Yes, perhaps,’ Richard said and looked thoughtful. ‘You are certain that no one else would benefit from your fortune other than your uncle?’
‘My father was an only child,’ Georgie said. ‘I have only my uncle and my great-aunt.’
‘Then we must assume it is either Thierry for reasons of his own or your uncle for money,’ Richard said. ‘When we reach the next posting inn I shall hire a closed carriage. If your life is in danger, I must protect you.’
‘But we cannot be sure the shot was meant for me,’ Georgie said, frowning. ‘Perhaps the rogue who fired at us thought you would be travelling alone and fired without being sure who he would hit.’
‘Yes, that is possible,’ Richard agreed. ‘But in future I do not intend to give anyone the chance to shoot at you again. We shall travel on by closed carriage.’
Georgie kept her silence. To drive with him in a closed carriage would do little for her reputation if it were discovered, but then she had already lost any claim to respectability and must hope it could be recovered when she reached her great-aunt’s home.
However, he winced as he moved and, glancing at him, she saw the blood spotting on his otherwise immaculate breeches. ‘Your wound,’ she said. ‘It must have opened when you moved so suddenly to grab the reins.’
‘Yes.’ He glanced down dispassionately. ‘It may be as well, for there was a little festering, which is why it was causing me pain. Sometimes it is better to open a wound and let the blood flow to cleanse it.’
Georgie felt doubtful, guessing that he was in far more pain than he would ever say. She made no comment; she knew that he would not thank her if she offered sympathy. He settled back into his seat, telling his groom to drive on, though she noticed a little pulse beating in his throat and sensed that he was having difficulty in holding back his pain as the carriage rattled over a particularly bumpy road.
At the inn, a bustling, busy place at a crossroads, Richard secured both a private parlour and a bedchamber. He left Georgie to herself in the parlour while he and Henderson went upstairs. They were gone for half an hour, during which time she amused herself by staring out of the window at the inn yard. Several private vehicles drew up during that time, their owners calling for refreshment while their horses were being rested or exchanged for fresh. She saw no one that gave her the least need for anxiety, her thoughts centred on what was happening upstairs, and she turned with pleasure as she heard the door open.
Richard had changed into fresh breeches, and there was evidence of a bandage beneath the clinging material. As he seemed to walk a little more easily she assumed that he was feeling better for his man’s attentions.
‘We may as well stay and eat,’ he told her. ‘I am sorry that this journey is taking longer than it ought, Georgie. Had we not been forced to break our journey again, we might have reached your home by this evening. As it is, I am afraid we may have to stay at an inn for one more night.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Georgie said. ‘It wasn’t your fault that we came so close to an accident. Besides, I shall be sorry when we part, sir.’
‘Shall you?’ Richard arched one eyebrow. ‘I thought you could not wait to get away from me when we were in London?’
‘Well, yes, I did think it would be better to leave, but…Jensen did not have a good opinion of me, you see. Mrs Jensen was kind, but she would not let me help her and I felt that I was in the way.’
‘I am sorry if you were made to feel uncomfortable.’
‘Oh, no, it wasn’t their fault, and Mrs Jensen was very kind, even though her husband obviously thought I was…no better than I should be.’ She bit her lip. ‘You must not blame him, for the circumstances were unusual to say the least.’
‘Yes, I suppose it was inevitable that he should have thought the worst,’ Richard said. ‘It might have been better if I had let them think you were my niece or something.’
‘They wouldn’t have believed you. No one would.’ Georgie pulled a rueful face. ‘I told Mrs Jensen I was in desperate trouble. I think she half-believed me, but I am very certain her husband did not.’
‘I have placed you in a difficult position,’ Richard said, eyes narrowed, thoughtful. ‘You stayed at my home without a chaperon and have had only my tiger and Henderson as our companions on this journey. I have, in fact, compromised you, Georgina.’
‘I did that for myself,’ she admitted, a blush in her cheeks. ‘Besides, you were only trying to help me when you took me to your home—and no one needs to know.’
‘Your great-aunt will know,’ Richard observed. ‘At least she will know that you have arrived at her house with a gentleman she does not know and no luggage.’
‘You are a friend of the family,’ Georgie said, ‘and my luggage was lost on the way. We were attacked by ruffians who stole our baggage and that is how you were wounded.’
‘You have a fine imagination,’ Richard said and he wasn’t smiling. ‘How much can I believe of what you say, I wonder?’
‘Everything!’ She sparked with indignation. ‘I did tell you a little white lie when we met, but I had to be wary, for you might have been anybody. Besides, it was not so far from the truth.’
‘But you have made up a string of lies to tell your great-aunt.’
‘Yes, well, I didn’t know what else to say. You talked of having compromised me and…and you must not feel obliged or anything.’ Her cheeks were deep rose with embarrassment. ‘I would not want you to feel that you had to marry me.’
‘Believe me, I don’t!’
‘Oh!’ Georgie glared. ‘Good, because I do not want to marry you. In fact you are the last man I would marry!’
‘Perhaps you would prefer to marry Thierry?’
‘No, of course I wouldn’t! You know I would rather die. I told you so…’ She understood that he was mocking her and threw him a fulminating stare. ‘I never know when you are funning! Of course you don’t want to marry me, and I shan’t expect it—even if my aunt says I am beyond the pale.’
‘Poor Georgie,’ Richard said and smiled. ‘You have got yourself into a pickle, haven’t you?’
‘Yes, I know it was a mad thing to do—but what else could I have done? My uncle meant to force me to marry that odious man and I did the first thing that came into my head. There was no one to help me.’
‘Impulsive,’ Richard murmured. ‘But brave too. I am not sure what else you could have done, but perhaps a little more planning would have had better results. You could perhaps have gathered enough money to hire a post-chaise to your great-aunt’s instead of taking the public stagecoach and getting robbed.’
‘Yes, it would have been better,’ she agreed. ‘I was afraid my uncle would lock me in my room, and then I was careless…’ She lifted her head, giving him a frank look. ‘I think I should have starved or ended up in prison if you hadn’t helped me. I am very grateful, you know—and sorry if I have caused you a deal of trouble.’
Richard looked into her eyes, which just now were soft brown, slightly moist and heart-wrenchingly appealing. He felt something stir inside him, an emotion he could not recall ever feeling before, something warm and tender, an urge to sweep