The Marquis and I (The Worthingtons #4)(6)

Tears of gratitude pricked her eyes. “Did any of the footmen or grooms come with you?”

“No, my lady. Just me. None of them was fast enough.” That was said with more than a little pride.

“Very good.” He was being taught along with her younger brother and sisters, and she praised him for his progress. She wondered what he was doing outside by himself. That, however, would be a question for later. At the moment, Charlotte was glad to hear his voice, yet now she would have to find a way to get them both home safely. “Jemmy, you must not let them catch you.”

“I won’t, my lady. I come—came to tell you a friend of his lordship’s is here. He’s gonna rescue you. He told the innkeeper he was Lord Braxton and acted all pomp—pomp something so’s I’d have time to find you. He’s sending me back to London on a coach.” His whispered voice became excited. “Won’t that be a grand adventure?”

“Yes, it will.” Charlotte leaned her head against the door as her anxiety flowed out of her.

Thank God someone had come after her. A burble of laughter almost burst forth.

And thank the Fates it was not the real Lord Braxton. The man had the biggest mouth in Town. Less than an hour after they returned, the whole ton would have heard about her misadventure, and she’d be ruined.

Still, the idea was brilliant, and Jemmy would be safe. “What is the gentleman’s plan?”

“Don’t rightly know—” Just then an aristocratic voice broke the relative silence of the inn. “That’d be him now. Said he was going to cause a bobbery.”

When they got home, she would have to work with him some more on his language.

“Thank you for coming to me. Please tell him that I have a scheme to get out of my chamber and that if he would kindly be standing by with his conveyance . . .” She frowned. There was no knowing when the inn would quiet down and she could trust her abductors were asleep. “Well, he should know when it is safe.”

“Someone’s coming. I gotta go.”

A few moments later a loud knock sounded on the door.

“Unless you want that maid to get hurt, and yourself tied up and gagged, don’t try to talk to her no more,” Burt growled from the corridor.

Well, drat. The girl must have told the innkeeper. She certainly did not wish to be responsible for the maid being harmed. “I promise I shall not do so again.”

“See that ye don’t.”

Charlotte leaned her back against the door and listened to his steps on the bare wooden floor as he strode down the corridor.

The loud, aristocratic voice had faded.

It was good of the gentleman to send Jemmy back to Town. If only she could go with him she would be happier. Although, he had said that the gentleman had a carriage. With luck she could be home before morning. She did not want to consider what would happen if she did not return by then. The stagecoach would have been much less trouble.

With her eldest sister, now the Countess of Worthington, and her brother-in-law gone away for a few days, and Lord Harrington, the only man currently courting her, attending his father, Charlotte had cried off her engagements rather than bother her cousin Jane to chaperone her. It was, therefore, a possibility that no one would notice she was not present. If someone did—she grimaced—well, she would simply have to cross that bridge when she came to it. Surely, between her and her family, they could come up with some believable story.

Sometime later, the sound of a team of horses stamping and a coachman calling for passengers told Charlotte the stagecoach had arrived. She prayed Jemmy was on it when it left.

Lying down on the small bed, she tucked her cat next to her. It would behoove her to get as much rest as possible in preparation for a full night of travel, and a nap before dinner would be just the thing.

She was not a light sleeper, but if someone knocked or called her name she would wake immediately. That probably came from being the second oldest of a large family.

Yet, before she could lull herself into unconsciousness, sharp steps struck the floor in the corridor, and a door near hers opened. “Here ye are, my lord. You’ll find water waiting. Dinner will be ready in a half an hour.”

There was a brief silence before the gentleman said, “Are you absolutely sure this is your best chamber?”

Charlotte stifled a giggle. Whoever was impersonating Lord Braxton must know him well.

“I am sorry, my lord, but this is the best I can do.”

A loud sigh followed. “I do hope you set a better table than this room would indicate.”

Slapping her hands over her mouth, she tried to hold back her laughter. The poor gentleman would be lucky if someone didn’t spit in his food.

At the mention of food her stomach began to grumble. Fortunately, a knock sounded on the door and the maid entered with her dinner. She was pleased to find it more than sufficient as well as tasty. She ate the soup and vegetables, but shared the meat, fish, and cheese with Collette.

When Charlotte and the kitten had eaten their fill, she wrapped the remaining bread, cheese, and meat to sustain her on the journey to Town.

As she glanced out the window, several men strolled down the street toward the inn. It might be quite some time before the innkeeper and his workers settled down for the night.





Chapter Three


An hour later, the maid, accompanied by Burt, came to Charlotte’s room for the dinner dishes.