Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
“For God’s sake, stop that dreadful caterwauling!” Julian snapped in his frustration with the screaming woman now scrambling away from him before rising hastily to her feet in the mud just a yard or so away.
Her wide blue eyes, the color of forget-me-nots in the lamp light, and the only visible feature within the mud which covered the front of her from head to toe, were fixed unwaveringly on him. As if she expected him to attack her at any moment.
Was it not bad enough that Julian had already gone through the indignity of being thrown from Shadow’s back when his horse was suddenly confronted with a carriage the moment the stallion stepped onto the track leading to Moreland Park?
That said horse had also now chosen, after a physical disagreement with the horses pulling that carriage, to gallop off into the darkness. Hopefully, the riderless horse would return to the stables at Moreland Park, where his grooms would instantly realize something was amiss.
Did Julian really have to now suffer the indignity of a woman screaming the moment she looked at him?
Julian had been avoided and blatantly socially shunned these past two years, but no one had ever screamed before merely from looking at him.
“I said enough!” he rasped harshly, breathing a sigh of relief when the screaming abruptly stopped.
“You speak, so you must be human,” the woman gasped while still staring at him as if he might attack her at any moment.
Julian’s top lip curled back. “I disagree with that assumption, madam. Because I can assure you, I have heard several beings speak whom I would consider far from human,” he added with scorn.
“I thought— I— You looked so—”
“Inhuman?” he derided.
“Yes!” A certain steeliness had begun to return to her tone. “You have blood dripping down from your left temple, as well as being covered from head to boots in mud.”
Julian removed a handkerchief from the pocket of his great coat. The white square was as wet as the rest of his clothing, but it was clean enough and would suffice to wipe away at least some of the blood the woman had said was on his face.
It stung slightly when he attempted to do so, revealing that there was obviously a small cut there. Head injuries always bled profusely at first. Pressing the handkerchief to that wound revealed only a small seepage of new blood.
He had suffered this small injury when the three horses had met in a clash of hooves.
He pushed the soiled handkerchief back into his pocket after hopefully wiping away the excess mud and blood. He would need to wash thoroughly, hopefully in that hot bath, to remove the worst of it.
“My looks are no doubt consistent with your own and that of your grooms.” There were two of the latter, one of them holding the lantern aloft as they both avidly watched and listened to their exchange.
Julian did not see any other passengers from the runaway carriage, not even a maid to accompany this well-spoken woman.
“As you can see, we are all covered in mud and soaked through to the bone. As such, I suggest we wait until after that situation has been rectified before any further explanations are attempted.”
The woman’s blue gaze met his without flinching. “And how would you suggest we do that when we are stranded in the middle of nowhere with no sign of a rescue in sight?”
“There is always the possibility of being rescued, madam. At least, I hope that there is.” Otherwise, Julian’s future would remain as bleak as it had been for the past two years.
“Indeed.” He glanced out into the rain and darkness to where he could see an approaching light being buffeted by the wind.
“I believe we are now about to be so,” he announced with satisfaction.
He recognized his oldest carriage as it appeared out of the darkness. It was being pulled by two black horses, his head groom perched high on the seat of the carriage, holding the reins.
The first thing Julian did when the carriage pulled to a halt was to open the door and attempt to put the woman inside out of the heavily falling rain.
“Kindly stop pushing me,” she turned to snap, obviously not completely in agreement with his method of trying to save her from becoming even wetter.
Julian lifted his hands in a See, I am no longer touching you gesture. The last thing he needed was for some random woman to accuse him of molesting her. “I do not see a maid with you?” If so, she had been carried off by the runaway carriage.
“Because I do not have one.” This young woman instantly dispelled that concern.
Considering her ring finger was bare, and she looked and spoke like a lady, she should not have been traveling without a maid or chaperone.
But then, this woman seemed altogether unusual. For one thing, she did not seem in the least concerned at being stranded alone in the middle of nowhere with several men, one of whom she had not been introduced to and was unacquainted with.
Without his assistance, it took far longer for her to climb the three steps into the carriage. No doubt because her gown was now weighed down by the rain and mud it had absorbed.
Even so, Julian took the lantern from the grooms and held it aloft as he waited patiently for the woman to almost fall inside the cabin of the carriage. His hands still itched to assist her, but he resisted the impulse out of a desire not to receive another dismissive rebuke.
Once the woman was inside, Julian turned to his own groom. “Ensure these two fellows are taken care of when we get back to the house, will you?” He then attached the lantern just inside the carriage before climbing into the warmth and shelter himself.
He had no intention of sitting outside with the grooms, no matter what the repercussions might be to his being alone in the carriage with the woman who had appeared so mysteriously out of the darkness of the night.
He was very wet and uncomfortable, extremely irritated, and he refused to add to that discomfort by becoming even wetter. Even for propriety’s sake.
Whoever this woman was, he would offer her shelter for the night and then send her on her way in the morning. Hopefully never to be seen—
“You seemed familiar with the groom who came to our rescue…”
Julian scowled across the width of the carriage to where the woman sat looking at him.
She somehow managed to appear regal despite her bedraggled state.
He noted she had now completely removed her bonnet and dropped it to the floor, along with what looked like the handkerchief she had used to wipe her face free of mud.
A pair of ruined lace gloves lay beside those other items.
Her wet hair was the color of mahogany and framed a heart-shaped face, her neck long and slender.
She looked younger than Julian had first thought, and very beautiful. Her skin was like pale and unblemished porcelain, her nose small and pert, her rose-colored lips full, and those challenging forget-me not-colored eyes continued to meet his without wavering.
“Yes,” he answered what hadn’t actually been a question but neither had it been a statement. It was instead something in between the two.
“I also noticed a coat of arms on the side of this carriage as I climbed inside…”
Again, it was not a question. “Yes.”
The tip of her tongue moistened pink lips. “A phoenix rising from the ashes.”
“Yes.”
“To what family does that crest belong?” She attempted to show only a casual interest.
“It is the coat of arms of the Duke of Moreland.” Julian watched for the revulsion to sweep across the woman’s features.
Her eyes widened, but otherwise, she gave no outward show of emotion. “As I thought.” She gave a careful nod. “I suppose it is too much to hope that you are merely an acquaintance of that gentleman, hence your familiarity just now toward his groom?”
“Why would you hope for that?” Julian repeated.
She grimaced. “Because the alternative of you actually being the Duke of Moreland would be a catastrophe of momentous proportions.”
Julian tensed. “Would you care to explain that remark, madam?”
* * *
Would Georgiana care to explain it?
The answer to that was a resounding no!
Because this man’s remarks had confirmed what she already suspected.
And she could not imagine having a more inauspicious meeting with the man who, until a few moments ago, she had hoped would become her employer for the foreseeable future.
A man she had initially took, and had not hesitated to reveal that reaction, to be some sort of monster as he rose from the mud to glare at her with what she could now see in the lamplight were green eyes framed by long dark lashes.
He was probably aged in his midthirties, and his face was still slightly smeared with mud.
But she believed the latter only made the sharp angles of his face and chiseled lips appear more devilishly handsome, not less.
Indeed, the lamplight revealed him to be one of the handsome gentlemen Georgiana had ever set eyes upon, as well as being exceedingly tall and muscular.
Nevertheless, she had never been one to shrink away from the truth.
“Allow me to introduce myself.” She sat forward on the bench seat to thrust her bare hand toward him.
“My name is Georgiana Stapleton. I am the new secretary the Duke of St. Albans has hired for you and whom you were expecting to arrive before the end of the month.” Her chin rose.
“I believe, if you were to check your pocket watch, you would see that I have fulfilled that promise by one whole hour.”