Runaway Miss by Mary Nichols

heart. Could he turn his back on her when they reached Kendal and forget he had ever met her?
    What else could he do? She would never take money from him and he would not insult her by offering it. It was strange that he should think that now, whatever he had suspected at the beginning of this journey. What had made him change his mind? Her frailty? No, never that. He laughed inwardly at his own folly. He was anxious to see his ill uncle and he ought to remember that and not worry himself over a woman he had met less than three days before.
    Would his aunt know what to do about her? That would mean persuading Miss Draper to go with him. On what pretext? She was so wary of him, so ready to curl herself into a ball and display her prickles like a threatened hedgehog—he would have to be very convincing. And what would his aunt and uncle make of him arriving at a sick bed, with a waif in tow?
    He gave a grunt of annoyance at himself. He was turning soft. He was never like that in his soldiering days. Then he knew what he wanted, knew how to get it too, would never have dreamed of listening to a counter-argument when convinced he was in the right. Since he had set off on this journey he had done nothing but argue and try to placate. She was either very naïve or very clever.
     
    She stirred when they pulled into the King’s Arms in Lancaster, mainly because it was such a busy place, all hustle and bustle as people went in and out and horses were led out from the stables and hitched to waiting coaches. The lanterns the ostlers and grooms were carrying cast moving shadows across the interior of the coach, waking her. ‘Where are we?’ she murmured.
    ‘Lancaster,’ he answered as Joe and Rose disappeared in the direction of the inn looking for refreshment. ‘We are here for fifteen minutes. Do you wish to go inside?’
    ‘No, I don’t think I’ll bother.’
    He moved to sit beside her. ‘I’ll fetch you something, if you like, a drink or something to eat.’
    ‘No, thank you. What time is it?’
    He took his watch from his pocket and leaned across her to consult it by the light of the coach’s lantern. ‘Eleven o’clock.’
    ‘Have I been asleep all that time?’
    ‘I think so, it’s difficult to tell in the dark. You must have been very fatigued to manage it in that uncomfortable position.’
    ‘It has been a very long day.’
    ‘Yes. I have to admire your fortitude, Miss Draper.’ And then, apropos of nothing at all, added, ‘How is your foot?’
    ‘My foot?’ She hoped he had forgotten that stumble and the intimacy of their embrace. ‘It was nothing. I have made a full recovery and no damage done.’
    ‘Good. You know, I meant what I said. If your positionas a lady’s companion does not suit, I will do what I can to help you.’
    ‘Why should you do that, my lord? I am nothing to you. A travelling companion and one that has caused you no end of inconvenience.’
    ‘Inconvenience, certainly not!’
    She chuckled. ‘Not inconvenient to be soaked to the skin on top of a coach when you could have travelled inside in comfort; not inconvenient to find yourself shepherding a couple of silly women into inns and hotels and making them eat because they are too foolish to think of it themselves; not inconvenient to have to go to the trouble of hiring a carriage because those two same silly women took it into their heads to want to walk in the fresh air. And then to have one of them stumble…’
    ‘Not inconvenient,’ he repeated, taking hold of her hand. She did not withdraw it and he was encouraged to go on. ‘A privilege and a pleasure. But forgive me, I am curious about the reason for your journey. You have never travelled by public coach before, I’ll take an oath on it. That is why I admire your fortitude.’
    ‘I told you: I am going to take up a position as a companion.’
    ‘Hmm,’ he murmured. ‘As far away from London as possible.’
    She was startled. ‘What do you mean by that, my