A Viscount is a Girl’s Best Friend Read online

  As he led her towards the post chaise, several steps ahead of Harold and the postilion who were both weighed down with boxes, his heart gave him a reproachful tug.

  He, above all others, knew how much Edith might need a friend in the coming days. How many times had she whispered to him her breathless plans for adventure? And how many times had he smiled and nodded and failed to challenge her ill-thought-out ideas? It was not remotely possible that her first solo voyage would be all that she wanted it to be. A pity, as Edith’s temperament was particularly ill-suited to disappointment. She cried as easily as she laughed, and Nathaniel could not bear the thought of it.

  If he were the independent gentleman he longed to be, nothing would stop him from accompanying her. He might use his greater experience of the world to smooth her journey and offer some comfort should things go awry.

  But Uncle Adolphus’s orders were plain. Go to Rotherham Estate, drown yourself in work, and forget all about racehorses and London friends. Edith, presumably, included.

  “Here you are,” he said, opening the carriage door to reveal four incurious faces peeping out from the cramped interior, hat boxes balanced on knees and skirts mingling in the centre. The space was already too small, and there would be one more passenger besides Edith, with Harold forced to ride outside.

  Hardly a suitable situation for a duke’s sister, though Nathaniel would never dare suggest to the thrifty Selina that she should have gone to the expense of hiring a private carriage. Speed was of the essence, not comfort, and in this manner, Edith would at least reach her sister quickly.

  Nathaniel glanced down at Edith to find, to his astonishment, a glow of pleasure pinking her cheeks.

  “How charming!” she declared, lifting her skirts with one hand as she stepped unaided into the carriage. She wiggled her way into the small space left on the seat between a rather plump gentleman and the large valise of the lady sitting beside him. “My name is Lady Edith Balfour. I’m sure that by the end of our journey, we will all be the best of friends!”

  Judging by the half-hearted nods of greeting her fellow passengers gave her, Edith would have her work cut out for her in that regard. Nathaniel leaned into the carriage to press her hand to his lips. He felt much easier to see her so comfortable in her inauspicious surroundings.

  “You are dreadful,” he murmured, drawing her hand close to him so that she was forced to lean in. “Promise me you will not keep all these fine people from dozing with your chatter along the way.”

  “Who could doze on such a fine day as this? We will be passing through some particularly lovely parts of the countryside. I ought to know. I was up until gone midnight studying the maps.”

  “Lord Rotherham!”

  A strident voice jerked Nathaniel’s attention back into the courtyard. He kept Edith’s hand in his. “Who wants him?”

  A serving boy dodged a couple of trotting horses and darted towards him. “Milord, there is an urgent letter for you. Please follow me.”

  “A letter? I am expecting no letter.” Nathaniel dropped Edith’s hand reluctantly. He had no desire to cut their goodbye short. After all, he had given Selina his word that he would see her safely on her way. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t have it, milord.”

  “Well, fetch it to me!”

  “Begging your pardon, milord.” The boy tugged at his hat awkwardly. “The Postmaster has instructions to give it to you direct. He won’t let me have it.”

  Nathaniel groaned. He knew at once who would send after him with such an inconveniently rigid set of instructions.

  Only Uncle Adolphus was so cautious as to be an active pain in the rear end. Presumably, the old man had woken that morning remembering some five or six tasks he had not reminded Nathaniel about the previous night and had sent after him with some urgency in case he should disgrace himself along the road to Rotherham.

  “Don’t stand about, Nathaniel,” said Edith. “You are keeping the lad from his work. I am quite settled here!” She grinned at his hesitation. “You have completed your task admirably.”

  In some ways, Nathaniel would have rather had her beg him to stay. His own limbs itched to clamber into the carriage beside her.

  But Edith was already chattering merrily to the lady opposite her, and Harold was climbing up onto the bench seat on the outside of the carriage. She did not need Nathaniel.

  He was quite disappointed.

  The Postmaster was a harried-looking, ruddy-cheeked man who looked to have a thousand important tasks on his mind of which a mere viscount was only a small particle. He gave Nathaniel a brisk, if deep, bow, and presented him with a letter in painfully familiar handwriting.

  Uncle Adolphus’s voice sounded loud in Nathaniel’s head as he scanned its contents. All the familiar old phrases were there. Gentlemanly comportment and caution over the outgoings and a stern but fair hand with the tenants and so on and so forth. Adolphus might as well have written be sure to behave in the exact opposite way to your friends, Shelly and Sir T.

  Nathaniel sighed and crumpled the letter in his fist. There was very little there that he had not heard before, several thousand times. If Adolphus did not credit him with the ability to keep such trite advice in his head by now, he never would.

  Just as he would never cede control of Nathaniel’s fortune until the law itself compelled him.

  “Something the matter, my lord?” asked the Postmaster.

  “Nothing you can help me with, sir.” Nathaniel thrust the letter into his pocket, rather hoping the paper would tear as he did.

  All his years of striving, of impeccable behaviour, of holding his tongue and doing his best and bowing to Adolphus’s every whim. All of it useless. He would never be a man grown in his uncle’s eyes.

  Just as his thoughts turned truly bitter, a ruckus broke out in the courtyard which demanded every man’s attention.

  A fight had broken out between a rough-looking fellow with a red neckerchief and, to Nathaniel’s concern, the plump gentleman who had been sitting next to Edith in the post chaise. A luggage box had fallen to the ground, spilling its contents of smallclothes and cheap white shirts across the dung-covered cobbles. The plump gentleman had decided that blame lay squarely with Red Neckerchief. He was making use of his fists with surprising nimbleness, given his size.

  The two combatants laid into each other with such force that the onlookers were compelled to halt their efforts at separating them for fear of catching a wayward fist. Soon, the two men were tumbling over each other on the cobblestones, rolling through the dung piles and spewing curses as they pummelled with their fists. Their efforts took them into the path of a stable boy, who kicked out at them vigorously and shouted at the dogs to join him in harrying them.

  “Enough!” Nathaniel’s voice cut through the commotion like a whip. He strode into the middle of the fight, lifted the kicking boy up bodily and set him out of harm’s way. Then he dodged a flying elbow and caught the man getting the best of the fight by his red neckerchief, jerking him up. “Enough!”

  A pair of coachmen came running with a pail of water held between them and threw it over Red Neckerchief, the plump gentleman prone on the ground, and Nathaniel himself. He thrust his ill-favoured captive in front of him and managed to avoid the worst of it. He was rather worried that a good drenching would only inflame Red Neckerchief’s rage, but the coachmen’s judgement was the better, for it had the opposite effect. Red Neckerchief sank in Nathaniel’s grip.

  “I didn’t do nuffin,” he growled, glaring at the plump man who was dabbing his nose with a rapidly reddening handkerchief. “I didn’t do nuffin!”

  “I don’t care what you did or did not do,” said Nathaniel, giving him a shake. “You have broken this man’s nose, you cur!”

  “He started it!”

  “I did not!” spluttered the plump man. A series of shouts broke out, some in his favour, some in Red Neckerchief’s.

  “Pulled my luggage off the carriage and threw it on the ground, he did!” shouted the plump man, pointing accusingly at Red Neckerchief. “Look what he’s done to it all!”

  Several sets of large garments were currently being trodden into the muck beside the split luggage box by the feet of the excited crowd.

  Nathaniel let go of Red Neckerchief in disgust. “Don’t tell me the pair of you are taking the stagecoach to Hatfield?”

  Red Neckerchief scratched his neck and hawked a gob of spit onto the cobblestones. “That’s right. What’s it to you?”

  That was the final straw. Nathaniel beckoned to the boy he had rescued from the fray. “Fetch the Postmaster. This is his mess to deal with.” He turned on his heel and marched to the post chaise, where Harold was treating himself to a pinch of snuff as he watched the show, and Edith was leaning half out of the door with her cheeks pleasantly flushed with excitement.

  Nathaniel put his arm about her waist, lifted her, and placed her down, squeaking in protest, on the ground outside the carriage.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I am hiring you a private pair of horses. This notion of Lady Selina’s to send you by public stagecoach is ridiculous. I cannot have you exposed to such rough company as this.”

  “On the contrary, I must and shall travel by stagecoach. Selina has not given me nearly enough money to hire a private carriage. Besides, I find the company quite invigorating! I have always longed to witness a true fist fight, and now –”

  “You may visit my boxing club if you really must, but for now, you will disembark from this carriage and come back to mine. I will travel on with you.”

  Edith put her foot back on the step of the chaise. “You have really done enough already. Who is to say that there will not be equally rough company when we change at Hatfield?”
/>
  “But I am not only coming to Hatfield.” Nathaniel put his arm across the door of the post chaise, barring her from entering it again. “I will come with you all the way to Matlock.”

  If Adolphus believed he had a nephew who set his own desires above every responsibility, Nathaniel would show him what that truly meant.

  Edith’s eyes were wide, half-laughing, half-alarmed. “You cannot mean it.”

  “I most certainly do.”

  “But Nathaniel, you must not defy your uncle this way!” She lowered her voice. “Think of all he does for you, and all he could still do. You have put such effort into proving your worthiness. If you should throw it all away now –”

  “Believe me, I am throwing nothing away.” Nathaniel cleared his throat. “That letter I received just now was from Uncle Adolphus. He gave me strict instructions – no, he positively insisted – that I should not let you travel alone to Matlock.”

  Edith pressed her fingers to her gentle smile. “Mr Townsend is such a darling!”

  “Harold, take down Lady Edith’s things,” said Nathaniel, shading his eyes as he looked up at the footman. “We are taking my carriage to Matlock.”

  “Right you are, milord.” Harold grinned and began untying the ropes securing Edith’s baggage. He seemed pleased by the change in plans; Nathaniel knew the footman got on well with his driver.

  “But what about hiring the horses?” asked Edith, as they picked their way back through the crowd, giving Red Neckerchief and his bleeding opponent a wide berth. “There is never any guarantee that private horses will be available at the posting houses. We may be forced to wait.”

  “My carriage will make much better time than an overloaded post chaise.” Nathaniel caught Edith’s elbow and steered her around a large puddle. “Our quick time on the road will make up the hours we spend waiting for fresh horses.” His fingers tightened on her elbow, bringing her eyes back to his face. “I promise you, there is no one else in this world who will bring you to your sister’s side quicker than I will.”

  “Oh Nathaniel, I am sure of it.” A crinkle in Edith’s brow betrayed the gnawing concern that underlay her excitement about the journey. The strange thought occurred to Nathaniel that he could smooth that worry away if he only leaned forward and kissed the place her brows drew together.

  A fresh set of horses was being hitched to his carriage, in preparation for the intended journey to Rotherham. Nathaniel nodded to the postilion.

  “I have had a change of plans,” he said. “I will be going towards Hatfield – or, if the horses can manage it, all the way to Baldock before we are forced to change.”

  “Heading north, my lord?”

  “To Matlock, eventually.”

  The postilion smacked the nearest horse’s flank with the palm of his hand. “This is a nice fresh pair, my lord. They’ll get you the thirty miles to Baldock without too much trouble. I’d warrant that you’ll make sixty miles a day in these fine conditions, if the lady don’t mind the long hours.”

  “Oh, the lady will enjoy the long hours very much!” Edith assured him, climbing up into the carriage. The indomitable Harold staggered up with Edith’s boxes stacked high in his arms. Nathaniel’s driver crowed a word of welcome and sprang to assist him.

  Nathaniel took off his hat and ducked through the carriage door. Edith was already making herself comfortable, settling back onto the cushioned seats and taking out a pack of cards and a bag of toffees from her reticule.

  “I hope it’s a little more comfortable than the post chaise,” said Nathaniel. She gave him a beaming smile.

  “It is perfect. You must send my sincerest thanks to Mr Townsend when you write to him this evening.”

  Nathaniel was not in the habit of writing personal letters to his uncle at all. The idea of inserting a note of warmth into their businesslike correspondence was beyond contemplation.

  Besides, Adolphus would not take very well to being thanked for a favour he had never done. There was a nasty argument in Nathaniel’s future, when he returned to London and the truth came out.

  But for now, there was nothing but the delight crossing Edith’s face as she gazed out of the window, the gentle rocking motion of his comfortable carriage, and the beauties of the Peak District beyond. Matlock was three days away, and Uncle Adolphus could wait until Edith was safely at her sister’s side.

  Edith reached into her paper bag as the carriage began to move and popped a toffee into her mouth.

  “Something sweet?” she asked, eyes dancing as she offered him the bag.

  6

  It was not quite the side-saddle adventure on open horseback Miss Celia Fiennes had made in the time of William and Mary, but it was quite something to watch the changing countryside roll past the window, hour upon hour.

  For the first sixty minutes, Edith was enraptured.

  During the second hour, she began to fiddle.

  The third passed as slowly as any time she had ever known.

  By the fourth, she was wishing she had brought her embroidery.

  It did not help that Nathaniel had tipped his hat forward over his eyes and was dozing peacefully in the opposite seat, every now and again giving a gentle snore.

  Edith nudged his booted foot with her slipper. No response.

  She nudged again. Nathaniel murmured something incomprehensible and sank further down in his seat.

  Edith brought her foot back and gave his ankle a firm not-quite-a-kick. Nathaniel jolted awake.

  “We hit a pothole,” she explained, taking her cards out of their packet and beginning to shuffle. Nathaniel raised a cool eyebrow.

  “Did we?”

  Edith shot him a warning look. She dared him to imply she was not enjoying the thrill of adventure. She simply dared him.

  “Shall we play a hand or two of something? Black Widow should be simple enough to play in a carriage.”

  “Certainly, if you can tear your eyes from the view.” He took the cards she dealt him and spread them in his hand.

  Edith buried her eyes in the cards. She had an awkward question to ask Nathaniel, and she was not entirely certain it was wise to meet his eyes when she did. It was important that he took her seriously, and when their eyes met, she was far too prone to laughter.

  “Nathaniel…”

  “Your move.”

  “No, it’s not that.” She set the cards face down in her lap, gaze following them. “It occurred to me that what we are doing here might not be entirely proper.”

  “Proper?”

  “Well, would Selina approve of us travelling half the length of the country together – alone?” Edith could not help it. She raised her chin and looked Nathaniel directly in the eye. To her relief, his expression was serious. “I don’t like to question Mr Townsend’s judgement, but he is not used to caring for a young woman’s reputation. It may not have occurred to him that this may look like…”

  “Two young people taking a carriage together on the spur of the moment and travelling north?” Nathaniel’s eyes widened dramatically. “Edith! Don’t tell me we are eloping? Upon my honour, I never agreed to such a thing!”

  She smacked his hand with her cards. “Don’t be flip. I am serious.”

  He battled his smile at some length, not quite managing to remove it. “I don’t see the difference between you travelling in a post chaise, accompanied by Harold, and you travelling in my carriage, accompanied by the same footman. Besides, I have taken you driving through London often enough.”

  “That is different.” Edith was quite certain that Nathaniel understood where the real predicament lay, and equally certain that he would do nothing to help her voice it. “This is a journey of several days. We will be spending the night in an inn.”

  He glanced back down at his cards, shaking his head and chuckling softly. “I assumed we would take separate rooms.”

  “Of course we will take separate rooms!”

  “Then I don’t see that there’s a problem.”

  Edith bit her lip. Nathaniel was many fine things, but a careful custodian of her honour was not among them. She was beginning to think that, regardless of Mr Townsend’s opinion, she should never have accepted the offer of company.

  Nathaniel was shooting a mischievous gaze at her over the top of his cards. “Of course, there is an easy remedy should any scandal arise from this adventure.”