Chapter Eight
As they bounced down the road, Lainey’s stomach finally settled as the earl’s low, even voice relaxed her as he read. His voice rumbled over the words and he accented different words than she would have. The more she listened to him speak the more she enjoyed his brogue.
Many people of the ton thought it a savage dialect, but she found it fascinating. Mesmerizing.
She’d had no idea such a service as reading a book would seem so intimate until the carriage was filled with his melodic rumble and she closed her eyes to soak it in.
Then he removed a flask from his coat and took a sip to wet his throat before he offered it to her.
She’d tasted a wide selection of spirits on her travels. But none tasted sweeter than the whisky she drank from the flask where his lips had touched before hers. It was warm from being tucked in close to his body.
She thought of what that might feel like. Not being a flask, but touching his chest. She imagined it would be hard with muscle, for the earl was lean even with the bulk of his shirt, waistcoat, and overcoat.
She’d heard he fancied visiting Gentleman Jack’s and caught a vision of him in the ring, sweaty with exertion as he swung his fists at his opponent. Did he smile even in the heat of a match? His smile seemed to be affixed to his face.
She thought of the smiles he’d given her a few times yesterday that brought out that devilish dimple and lit up his blue eyes. That was his real smile.
She took another fortifying sip and handed his flask back. He reached for it without interrupting his reading and tucked it away in that place she wanted to place her hand.
“I must say.” Though he’d been speaking all this time, the change in his voice to conversation startled her from her thoughts. “I wouldn’t have put you for someone who read gothic novels,” he said as he positioned his bag to one side of the squab and leaned back upon it to stretch out across his seat. He was much too long, so he bent his knees so he would fit. Tucking the novel against his thighs.
He looked rather comfortable there, so she mirrored his pose, propping herself in the opposite corner so they could look at one another as they conversed. Or so she could continue to watch him as he read to her.
Rather than bend her knees, she settled one foot over the other ankle.
“Are you not enjoying The Mysteries of Udolpho?” she asked when she was comfortable.
“I’m seeing a striking resemblance of Signor Montoni to my sire.”
He’d mentioned his father a few times and had yet to say a kind word about the man. In truth, the late earl did sound like a monster in Lord Melville’s life. She thought herself to be similar to Emily in the novel because she’d been orphaned, but in truth, after that trauma there had really been nothing horrible to note.
Except what had happened at her come out.
Her anger was stirred but didn’t gain the usual heat. How could she be angry at the man who’d offered to read such a scandalous novel to her because she couldn’t read it herself?
With a sigh of resignation, she cast off her plans to fill his fine boots with horse dung.
And even worse, he seemed to be enjoying himself. Perhaps anything would be better than having to converse with an irritable shrew such as herself.
“I’m sorry your father was so horrid. Do you wish to talk about it?” she offered.
“God, no. That blighter doesn’t deserve to be discussed. He should be forgotten. Allowed to drift into nothingness. That is a true punishment is it not? To not be remembered by anyone?”
“I suppose it is. While I can’t speak on what you have gone through, I do know that I remember my parents often with fondness and I feel that is an honor to them. By default, I have to think you have something with your plan to let him drift off into nothingness.
He nodded, seemingly happy with her assessment.
“Very well, I should get back to this. We don’t want to leave our poor Emily in a lurch now do we?” He picked up the book to start reading again, but she wasn’t ready to drift back into the story.
She wanted to talk with him some more.
“You have a lovely voice,” she said before she’d thought to stop herself.
“Thank you,” he shifted, and his cheeks darkened the slightest bit. “My accent doesn’t put you off?”
“No. It is quite lovely.”
He cleared his throat.
The earl, as outlandish as he sometimes seemed to be, was uncomfortable with true compliments. Interesting.
She imagined it had something to do with his father. If he was even a fraction as awful as Signor Montoni, he would have to be a monster indeed. How had Lord Melville survived living with such a man while still holding on to his pleasant disposition?
She might have asked more, but the sound of the carriage traveling over dirt, changed to the louder rumble of wheels on wooden planks.
A bridge.
She bolted back up to a sitting position and gasped while reaching out for the side of the carriage.
The earl sat up as well, his face shifting from his relaxed expression to one of concern. Before she’d had the chance to completely come undone, the sound changed back again.
A small bridge. And they were over it already before fear could grip her too terribly. But not before the earl had noticed.
“Are you well?” he asked, his hand reached out as if to steady her, but it hovered just short of actually making contact. She found she would have welcomed his touch. But of course, that wouldn’t have been proper. And he was a gentleman as he’d claimed.
She couldn’t doubt that.
“Yes. Forgive me. It was nothing.” She forced herself back to her earlier position of leisure even while her heart battled to escape her chest. “Please continue.”
His gaze narrowed slightly, but he nodded and did as she asked without pressing for more information regarding her strange reaction.
She was more thankful than he would ever know.
*
The panic he’dseen in Miss Bantham’s eyes concerned him, but satisfying his curiosity was not justification enough to force the woman into sharing her fears with a near stranger.
He wondered what had happened to bring forth this lasting fear in Miss Bantham. As they continued their travels north, he saw her respond in a similar way a few more times. Once while she was laughing, it caught her completely off guard.
He’d pieced together the cause, though he didn’t pry to learn the reason.
Bridges.
The longer the bridge, the more severely the fear stole her breath and leeched her knuckles white as she grasped onto anything she could reach, including his knee on one occasion.
Each time, she seemed embarrassed and upset, so he took to reading louder, or filling the moment with chatter until the episode passed.
She had dozed off on the rear facing seat while he was reading. The sun, which had not shown itself all day, was giving up the fight with a hazy finish.
Unable to see to read, he set the book next to him and looked out the window. The road curved toward the left, and Julian saw the reason. They would be crossing a river up ahead and the only way to do so would be to travel over a bridge.
He reached out and woke Miss Bantham.
“Sit up,” he instructed.
“What is it?” she asked.
“We’re about to cross a stream,” he warned.
Her eyes widened and she slid to the side of the carriage where she could grasp the door loop.
“Deep breath,” he said when he heard the first hoof hit the timbers of the structure.
When they were across, she calmed more easily than before.
“Thank you,” she said.
“It helps to be prepared.”
She offered a small nod and fixed her skirts.
“You must think me silly.”
“Not at all. And I hope you wouldn’t think me silly if ever you see me encounter a spider. Fears are often irrational, but does it matter if I’m large enough to fend off an insect?” He tapped his temple. “If our minds think otherwise, it is as good as truth, is it not?”
She stared at him for a moment before letting out a breath and shaking her head. “You’re doing it again.”
He didn’t need to ask what she meant. He simply offered her his brightest smile.
“I daresay, by the time we arrive, you will be my biggest admirer.”
“I doubt that whole-heartedly.” She flicked a bit of imaginary lint from her skirts.
“I can dream, Miss Bantham. I can dream,” he teased.
Rather than taking offense, she simply rolled her eyes. After a few moments of silence, she cleared her throat.
“If you are ever overcome by a spider, you have only to call for me. I shall come to your aid and protect you.”
She wasn’t mocking him. Rather she seemed completely serious. As if she wanted to reassure him as he had done for her.
Whether she’d wanted it or not, they had certainly become friends.
They arrived at Dalkeith Castle in the Highlands the following afternoon.
Julian explained that the grand, stone house was only a short distance from the castle ruins they would be exploring.
“It will be nice to spend our evenings in such comfort after spending our days digging about in the dirt like savages.”
This would be their home for the next two months. And until the Leightons arrived, they would be living there alone but for his staff.
“I imagine this is far different than our accommodations in Egypt?” he asked.
“Yes. Quite.” Her answer was short, as it often was on the occasions they spoke of the trip to Africa. As if she were unwilling to confirm he would be going.
It didn’t stop him from testing her resolve. He hoped to catch her off guard and get her to admit she planned to include him. He was much too impatient for such things as surprises or waiting to hear news on something.
This was torture.
“Mr. and Mrs. Leighton should already be here.” She seemed so happy to see the other couple. As if desperate to have a reason to get away from him.
He assisted her from the carriage when it stopped. It was a pleasant day though the skies to the east threatened to bring foul weather.
A few servants emerged from the house and Julian smiled when he noticed one of them as his valet.
“Ben, I hope your journey was without trouble.”
“Nothing to note, my lord.”
The wheels could have fallen off the carriage and Bentley himself could have been made to carry the conveyance the rest of the way on his back, and the man would have reported nothing of note.
That was just how he was. Never a complaint, even if one was warranted.
Julian noticed Miss Bantham standing close by, watching the exchange. He turned to introduce them.
“Miss Bantham, please let me introduce my good friend and valet, Mr. Bentley. Ben, this is Miss Bantham, our guest, and my instructor for the next few months.”
“Very good to meet you, Miss Bantham.”
“Lord Melville has told me many things about you. I feel we are already acquainted.”
“I hope he hasn’t shared the embarrassing stories.”
Elaina slipped her arm through Ben’s and leaned closer to whisper.
“You’ve known the earl much too long to think he wouldn’t have told those stories first.”
Ben chuckled and patted her hand.
“You have the right of it, my dear.”
And like that, the woman had utterly charmed his valet. And they hadn’t even made it through the doors of the house.
Julian was equally charmed that Miss Bantham treated Bentley like a treasured guest rather than a servant, as many women of her class would have done. But, of course, after spending the last few days with her, he knew her better than to expect such a thing from her.
They all ascended the stairs as the other servants carried in Miss Bantham’s trunks.
A sturdy older woman came forward. Julian remembered the housekeeper and noticed the small smile she aimed toward Ben.
Good for you, old boy, Julian thought and wrestled his grin into submission.
Miss Bantham looked toward the stairs and turned to the housekeeper.
“Where will I find the Leightons?” she asked.
The housekeeper shook her head.
“Afraid they haven’t arrived yet, miss. They sent a message for ye. I put it in your room. I’ll show you there.”
Julian nearly put out his hand to steady Miss Bantham for she looked as if she might fall over.
“This won’t do. We can’t stay here alone,” she whispered the last part.
He couldn’t help but chuckle at her scandalized reaction.
“We’re hardly alone. We are under more supervision here than we have been all the nights we stopped at inns during our travels.”
“I suppose, but here there are people who know you. If they found out…”
“Do you want me to leave?” He almost hugged her when she shook her head.
“No. That won’t do. I would never run you from your own home. Besides, there is nowhere close enough for you to stay that wouldn’t be a bother getting to the site in the mornings. We’ll just have to make do with our present accommodations.”
“You are quite safe with me, Miss Bantham. I swear it.” He hoped he could keep that promise. If she so much as fluttered an eyelash in his direction he feared he might relent.
What was it about her he found so intriguing? He still worried it was simply that she didn’t fall into a giggling pile of awe in his presence. Was he really so shallow?
Possibly.
Probably.
“I’ll have baths brought up to each of your rooms,” the housekeeper went on. “Nettie will be tending to ye, miss, during your visit at Dalkeith.”
“Thank you, Mrs. McGregor,” Julian said.
The tiny Nettie came forward and dipped a nervous curtsey before saying, “This way, miss.”
The entourage moved up to the next floor and Julian took note that Elaina was shown to a room just two doors down from his own on the same side of the corridor.
Not that it mattered. It wasn’t as if he had plans to sneak down the hall to her room in the night.
Except, he was thinking of that very thing and how convenient such an endeavor would be having her so close.
Shaking his head, he went into his own room. He must push away all thoughts of such things. Elaina was not to be trifled with. And he needed to stop thinking of her as Elaina. It was Miss Bantham.
Attempting to seduce Miss Bantham would only ruin his chances at being invited to attend the expedition in Egypt.
He would need to be careful not to offend her in the slightest.
His fate was in her hands.