Chapter 11
Eleven
Davenport turned on his heel and retreated to the adjoining room, kicking the door shut behind him.
“I hope I haven’t put you in His Lordship’s bad graces, Mr. Leighton.” She cast an aggrieved look toward the bedchamber. “I vow, he is the most ill-tempered, high-handed, exasperating gentleman I have ever met.”
Jeremy’s brows knitted together. “Julian? Oh, you’re quite wrong, Miss Caroline.
He’s the most steadfast, generous, loyal…
” He paused uncertainly, as if wondering whether it was wrong to be discussing his friend behind his back.
In a low voice, he simply added, “Please make allowances for his behavior. He’s been under considerable strain these past few months. ”
It was Caroline who felt a stab of guilt.
No matter how shabby his manners, the earl had risked his life to rescue her this morning.
He was being well paid for it, she reminded herself, but that still didn’t quell the feeling that, somehow, it was she who was showing to disadvantage.
He might have been arrogant and mercurial, but there was no question as to his courage or quick wits.
What a maddeningly complex man. Which only piqued her curiosity more.
“How do you know His Lordship?” she asked after a long moment.
“We became acquainted at Oxford. Though Julian is several years older, we found that we shared mutual interests.” Lest she imagine the worst, he hastily added, “That is, we enjoyed discussing books and paintings.” Again, he halted, as if debating whether to go on.
Caroline laid a hand on his arm. “I understand if you would rather not discuss it. I—I seem to be upsetting everyone around me today.”
“On the contrary!” Jeremy hesitated and then shyly added, “Y-You have very kind eyes. Conversing with people doesn’t come easily to me, but I feel comfortable doing so with you.”
She gave him an encouraging smile.
Drawing in a deep breath, Jeremy continued.
“Like Julian, I’m a second son, though of a mere baronet, not an earl.
Through family connections, my father arranged for me to enter the navy as a career—but I simply couldn’t imagine myself in that sort of life!
However, my father is not one who will listen to reason.
He could never understand why I didn’t love to hunt and shoot and carouse. ”
As Caroline watched his sensitive face harden at the memory, she felt a surge of empathy, as she understood what it was like to be trapped by conventional thinking.
“My father grudgingly allowed me to enter university,” recounted Jeremy. “But when I began to paint, he was appalled. Only Julian encouraged me to continue.”
He let out a harsh sigh, and when he resumed his narrative, his voice dropped to barely more than a whisper. “Then, after the accident…well, my family simply disowned me. I imagine that a lily-livered painter—and a crippled one at that—was simply too much for them to bear.”
Caroline’s eyes brimmed with sympathy. “How terrible for you,” she said.
“I’m telling you this not to evoke your pity. It is so you understand what sort of a man Julian is.”
“I didn’t mean to sound…” stammered Caroline.
“It is only through his generosity that I am able to survive on my own and continue my work, though I know he can ill afford it,” said Jeremy in a rush. “I suppose he feels in some way responsible for what happened.” Another sigh. “He has always tried to make amends for Charles.”
“His brother was the cause of your accident?”
Jeremy’s mouth quirked. “Charles never gave a thought as to whether his pranks caused harm to anyone. In fact, he never gave a thought to anyone save himself. The world is well rid of him. Perhaps Julian will now be able to find some peace…”
The sound of the door opening caused him to stop abruptly.
* * *
Davenport stepped back into the room. He had washed the worst of the dust from his person and had brushed his garments so that they looked passably neat. His face was rigidly composed, and when he spoke, his voice was under taut control once again.
“I suggest you change,” he said curtly to Caroline, gesturing to the bedchamber.
She rose, took up the bundle of clothes that Jeremy had let fall to the floor and went into the other room without a word.
“And you—I would appreciate it if you would leave me out of your fanciful conversations,” he added to his friend, once the door had shut.
“I’m sorry, Julian, but I didn’t wish her to have the wrong impression—you’ve been acting like a bear with a thorn in his arse. It isn’t like you.”
“I don’t give a damn what she thinks of me,” he growled. “I am doing this for the money.”
Jeremy didn’t answer but regarded Davenport with a penetrating stare.
The earl turned from the scrutiny and made a show of cutting a hunk of cheese from the package he had brought in with him. “A mail coach passes through in an hour. With luck, I shall return in a few days and you won’t have to worry about buying pigments or canvas for some time.”
“I cannot bear to be such a burden…”
Davenport clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s merely a loan—you shall repay me when you have exhibited at the Academy and have to turn away commissions.”
“The Academy!” Jeremy shook his head and let out a wistful sigh. “Would that my work would ever hang there! But as I have no connections and no influence, there’s not a chance.”
“We’ll see.”
Caroline reemerged dressed in a looser set of breeches that hid her shape better than the old ones, as well as a clean shirt, a few minutes later. Her hair had been regathered and tucked up under a thick wool cap.
“Was there not another jacket?” demanded the earl, seeing she was wearing the old one.
Caroline fingered the buttons. “I prefer this one.”
He eyed it with distaste but merely shrugged. “I suggest you eat something. We must leave shortly.”
Without bothering to note whether she heeded his advice, he turned and picked up the jug of cider, then let it thump back to the table with a grunt of disgust. “I don’t suppose you have any brandy?” he growled at his friend.
When Jeremy shook his head, Davenport ran his hand through his freshly combed locks, undoing his careful efforts, and went to stand by the window, his back to the room, his gaze riveted somewhere in the distance.
He stayed there, unmoving, until announcing it was time to go.
Jeremy took up his coat. “I’ll come with you,” he said as he followed them down the stairs. “I think it would be wise if I showed you a way to the inn that avoids the streets, where someone might observe you passing.”
Davenport looked as if to argue but then seemed to sense how much his friend wished to be of help. “Very well.”
They threaded their way through a series of darkened alleyways.
The sun had nearly set, and the air had taken on a distinct chill.
It promised to be an uncomfortable passage to Salisbury, thought Caroline as she quickened her steps to keep pace with the two men ahead of her.
But at least she would have plenty of time to think on all that Jeremy Leighton had revealed during—
She was nearly jerked off her feet as an arm snaked around her neck and pulled her into an adjoining passageway.
“Look ’e what I have here,” rasped a low voice that she nonetheless recognized as that of the coachman from the mysterious carriage.
“What a stroke of luck to have you stumble across my path.” The cold barrel of a pistol pressed against her temple.
“Quiet!” he snarled, cutting off her cry of surprise.
“Ye nearly cost me my position this morning. Well, ye won’t get away this time. ”
The sound of hurried steps caused the spin. “Stay where ye are,” he warned as Davenport and Jeremy drew to a halt in front of him. “None of yer bloody tricks this time. Get off with ye, or the chit will pay.”
Caroline started to speak, but the man struck her, drawing blood from a split lip. “Shut yer gob!”
Davenport grabbed Jeremy’s collar to keep him from rushing at Caroline’s captor and then shoved him back. “You heard him, Leighton. There’s nothing more we can do.”
The coachman waited until they had disappeared in the gloom and the echo of their footsteps had grown faint against the grimy bricks. With a satisfied smirk, he tightened his grip on Caroline’s jacket and forced her to start moving.
* * *
“Julian!” protested Jeremy as soon as they had rounded the corner.
“Quiet,” hissed Davenport. He pushed his friend forward. “Lead us to where that passageway comes out—and quickly!”
Without hesitation, Jeremy broke into a run and guided them between a row of decaying wooden houses, avoiding the piles of garbage strewn around their feet and the snapping jaws of a roving mongrel.
In a short time, after racing through a few more twists and turns, Jeremy skidded to a stop and pointed to a dark gap between two low warehouses.
Davenport nodded and pressed his finger to his lips. After stealthily approaching the opening, the earl signaled Jeremy to move away into the shadows while he took up position to one side of the gap and drew the pistol from his pocket.
Within several minutes, the scrabbling of boots over loose stones indicated that someone was approaching from the inky depths of the passageway.
Caroline stumbled out first, the coachman’s hand still firmly fisted in her jacket’s collar.
The pistol was no longer pressed up against her skull but now aimed at the small of her back.
Muscles coiled and ready to spring, the earl waited…
Closer, closer… Gauging exactly the right moment, Davenport grabbed the weapon’s barrel, wrenching up and away from Caroline.
A shot rang out.