Forever My Duke--Unlikely Duchesses Page 3

  Incensed, she turned on her heel and charged out of the stable. The heat of her aggravation warded off the frosty nip in the air. Devil take that arrogant man! She hadn’t asked for his assistance. He had bullied his way into her affairs without her consent. Let him go on his merry way.

  If she felt a twinge of guilt at her harsh judgment, it quickly dissipated under the need to concentrate on her search. She was too anxious to waste time over trifles.

  The inn was situated at the outskirts of a village. If Leo had gone exploring, then he couldn’t have ventured very far in the twenty minutes or so that he’d been missing. Perhaps he’d taken a notion to look at the local shops.

  Avoiding the muddy ruts down the center of the road, Natalie headed into the village. She hastened past a stone roundhouse and several thatch-roofed cottages, keeping her eyes peeled for his towheaded form. Smoke puffed from chimneys, but no one was outdoors in the damp morning chill, convenient to be asked if a little boy had passed by. She had reached the village green, where a flock of ducks huddled beside an ice-covered pond, when the scrape of footsteps came behind her.

  “Miss!”

  That male voice held a familiar ring of command. She turned in a swirl of skirts to see the stranger from the inn coming toward her, his strides long and swift. He had left without a hat, and the breeze stirred his light-brown hair into an attractive tousle. The autocratic fellow had no right to look so arrestingly handsome. What could he want now?

  Hope sent her heart catapulting to her throat. She rushed to meet him halfway. “Did you find Leo, after all?”

  He shook his head. “Regrettably not. I merely wanted to apologize for my rudeness. Pray forgive me for offending you.”

  Natalie regarded him with caution. Her anger, she knew, had been rooted in worry over the lost boy. It wasn’t like her to lash out at someone who was trying to help, and in all fairness, she could not withhold clemency.

  “Apology accepted,” she said. “I suppose Leo does misbehave at times. It’s just that I don’t care to hear about it from a stranger.”

  “Then it seems introductions are in order if we are to work together to find him. Given the unusual circumstances, we shall disregard the rules of propriety. I am Clayton. And you?”

  “Miss Fanshawe. Natalie Fanshawe. But you really needn’t have followed me, Mr. Clayton. I’m quite capable of finding Leo on my own.”

  She started down the high street, though not before noticing Mr. Clayton had parted his lips as if to say something. He fell into step beside her, taking the outside even though it required him to tramp through the mud in his polished black boots. When he finally spoke, she had the strange sense that it wasn’t what he’d first intended to say.

  “I’d like to assist, if you’ll allow me,” he said. “I’ve already dispatched my groom to search the nearby woods. My footman is waiting at the inn with instructions to keep a watch over Leo in the event of his return.”

  The news gladdened Natalie, allowing her to disregard his peremptory manner. She flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you, sir. That is one concern off my mind at least.”

  “I gather you think he might have come to explore the shops. But that doesn’t appear to be the case.”

  The two of them glanced around the single street of the tiny village. The pitifully small number of establishments included a greengrocer, a cobbler, and a haberdashery, all of which were closed at this early hour. There was no sign of a naughty little boy with his nose pressed to a window.

  “Might he have chased after a dog or a rabbit?” Mr. Clayton asked.

  “Anything is possible.” Her steps slowed as she peered down a deserted alley. “Oh, there are a dozen places where he might have gone! Back home, he was acquainted with everyone and they would bring him back whenever he wandered away. But no one here knows him.”

  “Never fear, he can’t have gone far. What was he doing when last you saw him?”

  “Playing with his toy sailing ship.” Struck by an alarming thought, Natalie clapped her hand to her mouth. “I wonder…”

  “Wonder what? Tell me.”

  “I wonder if he might have set out for Southampton. Yesterday evening at bedtime he said that he didn’t wish to meet his grandfather today, and he begged me to take him back to the ship so that we could return to America.”

  “America?”

  Preoccupied with the memory of Leo, she merely gave Mr. Clayton a nod. It had been heart-wrenching to see Leo’s lower lip wobble, for he was normally a happy boy with a sunny disposition. She’d attributed his bout of melancholy to their being confined in a crowded coach for several days after having enjoyed long weeks of freedom aboard a ship. Then this morning he’d been unusually quiet, and she’d thought he only needed time to adjust to all the changes in his young life. Today, he would be thrust into yet another new situation when he’d scarcely recovered from the death of his parents the previous summer.

  Certainty sank its talons into her. Yes, it was very plausible that he had decided to run away.

  Mr. Clayton subjected her to a keen stare. “Southampton is more than a hundred miles away. He can’t possibly think to walk so far.”

  “You don’t know Leo.” Shivering, she tightened her grip on the shawl. “He’s only six and likely acted on a whim.”

  “Surely he wouldn’t even know in which direction to head.”

  “Actually, there’s an excellent chance that he would. He happens to be quite observant about his surroundings.”

  Fear squeezed her throat. Without thinking, she caught Mr. Clayton’s arm and felt the firmness of his muscles beneath her fingers. “Leo is too innocent and trusting to know about the evils in the world. What if someone were to abduct him?”

  Mr. Clayton gave her another of those intent looks, then briefly covered her hand with his, his ungloved skin warm and reassuring. “He can’t have had much of a head start. Now, I don’t suppose you would heed my suggestion to stay here, Miss Fanshawe. No? Then follow me if you like.”

  With that, he started at a swift pace down the road that led out of the village. Natalie dashed after him, determined to keep up even if it meant half running. But he had a distinctly longer stride, his legs unhampered by skirts and petticoats. As they left the hamlet behind, the gap between them widened and within minutes he had achieved a significant lead, appearing as small on the horizon as one of Leo’s carved animals.

  She soon grew warm from the hike over the rolling countryside. As she strove not to fall too far behind, the beauty of the scenery filled her senses. She passed a farm with fields plowed for planting, a meadow scattered with woolly sheep, and several stone cottages nestled in groves of barren trees. It was all so civilized compared to the wild frontier of America. If not for the dire circumstances, she’d have liked to wander down one of the lanes, listening to the birdsong and looking for signs of spring as she was wont to do at home.

  Her attention was caught for a moment by the bucolic picture of a farmer letting cows out of a red barn, and when she looked ahead again, it was to realize that Mr. Clayton had halted in the distance. He was standing at the roadside, staring downward, his hands on his hips. Her eyes widened on the little figure in front of him.

  “Leo!”

  Lifting her skirts, Natalie flew toward the pair. Her half-boots churned up the sodden grass alongside the road. It seemed to take an hour to reach them, though it could only have been a minute or two. As she came to a halt, tears of relief and joy stung her eyes.

  She bent down and hugged him, to assure herself of his well-being. “Leo, you naughty boy!” she said breathlessly. “I’m so glad that we found you!”

  “The boy has something to say to you,” Mr. Clayton observed. “Don’t you, Leo?”

  The toy ship tucked in the crook of his arm, Leo cast a cautious look up at the man towering over him. Then he shifted his attention to Natalie and shuffled his filthy shoes through the mud. “Sorry, Miss Fanshawe. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

/>   “And?” Mr. Clayton prompted.

  Leo thought for a moment. “And it won’t happen again. I won’t never go anywhere without telling you. Gen-gentleman’s promise.”

  Her heart squeezed. “I certainly hope so, for you frightened me half to death.”

  Heedless of the wet ground, she sank down on her heels and pulled him close again, reveling in the knowledge that he was safe in her arms. He was so sufficiently chastened that he didn’t even grumble when she pressed a kiss to his brow or when she took out her handkerchief and wiped away a smudge of grease on his cheek, presumably from the sausage he’d nicked.

  A pang struck her bosom. Leo was her last link to her best friend. In the final moments of her life, Audrey had begged Natalie to take the boy to his only remaining family in England. Natalie had agreed, even though everything in her had balked at the notion of making the long voyage to the country that she scorned. In the months since the death of his parents, Leo had become like a son to her. She dreaded to contemplate the inevitable moment when they would have to part forever. Since her own father was gone, Leo was all she had left in the world.

  Yet she was bound by duty to give him up.

  Swallowing hard, she arose and checked her watch again to see they had a mere half an hour to spare. She took Leo’s small hand in hers. “Come, we must hurry, for there isn’t much time until our departure.”

  As they started at a quick pace back toward the village, Mr. Clayton fell into step alongside them. She stole a glance at his finely chiseled features and felt ashamed to have initially refused his assistance. But though she owed him thanks, the words of gratitude stuck in her throat. He was gazing straight ahead as if he’d forgotten their presence. There was nothing in his cool, closed demeanor that encouraged conversation.

  She talked to Leo instead. “What were you were thinking? It’s a very long walk all the way to Southampton.”

  “I wanted to go back to the ship,” he said rather dejectedly. “I liked it lots better there.”

  “But you haven’t any money to pay for passage.”

  “Oh, I could be a cabin boy for the cap’n. I’d fetch his tea and polish his boots.”

  “I see,” she said, smothering a smile. “That’s very enterprising of you.”

  “What’s enter … enterprising?”

  “It means that you are strong and spirited and that you will grow up to become a very hardworking man someday.”

  Leo pretended to sail his toy ship in the air. “I’m going to be a sea captain and own the fastest ship in the whole world! Ships are much nicer than being squashed into coaches.”

  “Well, there won’t be much more traveling, anyway. If all goes well, we should reach our destination today.”

  But all did not go well.

  As they neared the outskirts of the village, the rumble of wheels and the pounding of hooves sounded behind them. Natalie drew Leo off to the side of the road, back onto the grassy verge, with Mr. Clayton joining them. Her gaze sharpened on the approaching vehicle.

  Drawn by a team of four horses, the coach sped through the puddles in the road, sending out a spray of cold droplets as it barreled past them. But she scarcely noticed the mud that spattered her skirt. Her rounded eyes took in the distinctive maroon wheels and door, the curved body of the coach, and the guard in crimson greatcoat standing on duty at the rear.

  She sucked in a breath. “Oh no! It’s the Royal Mail.”

  Chapter 3

  In a panic, Natalie picked up Leo and shoved him at Mr. Clayton. The startled look on his face made her aware she’d just assumed he’d be her ally. But any reluctance on his part couldn’t be helped. “It’ll be faster if you carry him. I’ll run ahead to the inn. Hurry, there’s no time to waste!”

  She picked up her skirts and dashed down the narrow street. The distant blow of the horn announced the arrival of the mail coach. It would stop at the inn for only a scant few minutes; the post waited for no one. And she still had to fetch their belongings from the room and settle her bill. Why, oh, why had Leo chosen this morning to run away?

  Hurtling past the shops, she tried to reassure herself that the mail was running ahead of schedule. That might buy her some time. With any luck, the driver would decide to make a longer stop to change horses, to use the facilities, or even to grab a quick bite to eat.

  All was not yet lost.

  But when she arrived panting at the inn, it was to see several passengers entering the coach and the guard shutting the door. She ran up to him just as he was jumping onto the running board at the rear.

  “Wait, sir, I have a ticket. My little boy and I must be on this coach! If I might just fetch my bags—”

  “Sorry, miss. We’re full. Lots of stranded people, ye see.”

  As the whiskered guard tipped his tall hat to her, the driver sprung the horses. The Royal Mail coach took off with a drumming of hoofbeats and a clatter of wheels. In a matter of moments, the sleek black-and-maroon vehicle disappeared around a bend in the road.

  Natalie stood staring after it, her mind awhirl. Now what was she to do? She had sufficient funds to spend an extra night here, but she needed to stick to a strict budget until her return voyage to America.

  “Bad luck,” Mr. Clayton said from behind her.

  Turning to see him bend down to deposit Leo back on the ground, she seized the chance to vent her frustrations. “The mail came early! It wasn’t supposed to arrive until nine o’clock.” Reaching into the pocket of her gown, Natalie drew out the silver pocket watch that had once belonged to her father. “See, it’s only eight forty-three!”

  “Your watch appears to be slow.”

  “That can’t be. It’s always kept perfect time.”

  Mr. Clayton consulted his own watch, a fine gold filigreed specimen which he opened to display the face to her. The hands pointed to three minutes past nine. “This is the correct time. It’s set in accordance with the Royal Observatory at Greenwich.”

  “But … I wind mine every night…”

  Biting her lip, Natalie tried to ascertain if she had done so at bedtime the previous evening. With sinking awareness, she acknowledged having no such recollection. She had been preoccupied with getting Leo bathed and tucked in bed. Afterward, all she could remember was blowing out the candle and lying in the darkness, listening to the tapping of sleet against the window and trying to keep her thoughts from straying to a certain handsome stranger.

  The very man who stood before her.

  Natalie blew out a breath. “I suppose you’re right. I must have forgotten, so I’ve only myself to blame—” She checked herself in mid-sentence, noticing for the first time the large smear of mud on the lower section of his otherwise pristine blue coat. “Oh no! That must be from Leo’s shoes.”

  Mr. Clayton glanced down with a wry look. “So it would seem.”

  “Forgive me. I ought never to have required you to carry him. Will you allow me to clean the coat for you?”

  It was the least she could do after the way he’d helped her. If she could cadge a cake of soap from the innkeeper and sponge the stain very carefully, perhaps the fine garment needn’t be ruined.

  “That won’t be necessary. Chumley will see to it.” At her inquiring look, Mr. Clayton added, “My valet. In truth, he’d be irate if I allowed anyone else to interfere with my wardrobe.”

  Mr. Clayton traveled with a valet as well as a footman and groom? Of course he did. He appeared to be a wealthy, influential man—which made it all the more surprising that he’d offered to assist her.

  She regretted that it was time for them to part ways, that there would be no more opportunity to satisfy her burning curiosity about him. He intrigued her in a way no man had ever done. “Then I can only apologize once more. And I must thank you, Mr. Clayton, for your aid in finding Leo. It was very good of you to do so.”

  Natalie flashed him a warm smile. He had been kind despite her initial mistrust of him. He had voluntarily searched the stables, chased after
Leo, and in the bargain had given the boy a stern talking-to about proper behavior.

  She had repaid the man by ruining his coat. The situation was rather mortifying, especially when she faced those inscrutable granite eyes. Perhaps the best way to express her gratitude was to remove herself—and Leo—from his presence.

  “I wish you safe travels, sir. Good-bye.” Turning away, she spied the boy standing at the corner of the inn, clutching his toy ship while watching the grooms in the stable yard. “Leo, come along now. I’ll have to find another way to get us to Whitnash. And pray remove your muddy shoes before we go inside.”

  She needed to figure out what to do now that they’d missed the mail coach. The distance wasn’t terribly far—only a dozen miles or so—but it might as well be across the ocean. Although fond of walking back home, she had two valises to carry and a little boy to shepherd. Between the muddy roads and the chill in the air, proceeding on foot would not make for a pleasant journey when Leo must already be tired from his aborted attempt at escape.

  Perhaps she could spare a bit of her coin to hire a carriage or a local farmer with a dray. The innkeeper might have some recommendations.

  She was supervising Leo as he sat down to take off his shoes when Mr. Clayton stepped to her side. Her heart skipped a beat as much from his sudden nearness as the intent look in his eyes.

  “As it so happens, Miss Fanshawe, I’m heading in the direction of Whitnash, too. Perhaps you would permit me to escort you there?”

  * * *

  When Natalie left the inn an hour later, a groom was waiting outside to take her valises. He directed them to an elegant post chaise, then went to place their baggage in a second, plainer carriage. She wasn’t accustomed to such service and still felt a certain trepidation at her decision to accept Mr. Clayton’s offer. As she and Leo approached the stylish vehicle, black with gold trim, a poker-faced footman in forest-green livery sprang to open the door.

  “May I ride with those men?” Leo asked, his freckled face alight.

  Her gaze followed his pointing finger to the team of four matched grays. Two postilions, in livery identical to that of the footman, each were mounting one of the pairs of horses harnessed to the chaise.