Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,10
brief, hard embrace, before glaring at Daniel and stalking off toward the house.
Daniel stepped back beside her as the fresh horses began to pull the laden coach away.
“Will you send word to your family that you’re here?” he asked.
“No, I can hire a chaise to take me home. What about you? Is it far to your grandfather’s?”
He shrugged. “About five miles to Myerly, I think.”
She blinked. “Myerly? Is Lord Myerly your grandfather?”
“You know him?” Daniel asked, amused.
“Of course not. Nobody under the age of thirty has ever seen him.”
“I expect you call him Baron Miserly,” Daniel remarked.
“I’m afraid we did,” she confessed. She hesitated, then, “My chaise will pass Myerly. I can drop you there if you like.”
His lips quirked. “If we like to have the whole country gossiping that you shared a closed carriage with Myerly’s prodigal grandson.”
“Oh, my goose is already cooked there.” She met his gaze and tilted her chin. “My name isn’t Smith.”
“I didn’t suppose it was.”
“I’m Juliet Lilbourne.”
His eyes were faintly puzzled. “Lilbourne? Then you’re related to the Earl of Cosland?”
“His daughter.”
“Then, I definitely shouldn’t be sharing a carriage with you!”
“His eldest daughter,” Juliet said defiantly, but clearly, that still meant nothing to him. “I was a lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Wales.”
For an instant, he still looked baffled. And then she saw exactly the moment he made the connection. As soon as his eyes changed, she turned away.
“I’m going into the house to see about the chaise.” She walked swiftly, trying not to care what he thought of her now, and entered the familiar inn.
A yawning maid was stumbling down the stairs. Mr. George emerged from the coffee room.
“Ah, Miss Smith,” he said, smiling hugely as he approached her. “Might I offer you a seat in my carriage, which will be here directly?”
“Thank you, no. I shall make my own arrangements.” For some reason, it made her uncomfortable that the maid disappeared toward the kitchen, leaving them alone.
“Why bother when you may share mine?” he asked persuasively, halting just a little too close to her.
She stepped back. “I shall not put you out,” she said firmly. “My own carriage will be here shortly.”
“Will be here. You will make your own arrangements,” he quoted with a hint mockery. Suddenly, he seemed very sure of himself, as though his smarmy desire to please had inexplicably turned into knowledge that he did please. “My carriage will be here in five minutes.”
“And I wish you well in it,” she retorted. “I shall wait for my own.”
“Oh, you needn’t be shy with me!” His smile broadened, and he actually took her hand. “We are old friends now—having spent the night together.”
Juliet snatched her hand free, blushing to the roots of her hair. The blistering retort that rose to her lips froze on the memory of that wretched article, of Jeremy’s contempt. Was this all that was left to her?
As though sensing a victory, George moved closer once more. A table jabbed into her back. She was trapped.
“Sir, step back!” she commanded, though she could see in his eyes, he had no intention of obeying. A shadow fell over the front door.
Daniel Stewart.
Juliet’s first feeling was relief. And then shame.
George turned his head and saw Daniel, but he didn’t move. Instead, he smirked.
Daniel strolled in, the dog at his heels. “I believe the lady made a request.” She hadn’t known he could sound like that, so cold and contemptuous. She shriveled inside.
George’s lips curled in return. “Do you really think that accent entitles you to everything? I’m afraid I’ve stepped in before you, old fellow.”
The dog stuck his head in front of Daniel, staring. He growled deep in his throat, as he had once done to the porter.
“Gun,” Daniel said casually. “Fire.”
Immediately, the dog leapt forward, snarling. George stepped rapidly backward, all but falling over a chair. Gun came after him, and he turned tail and bolted toward the front door, which Daniel kicked shut behind him.
Gun slid to a halt, whining in disappointment.
“Did that oily little toad dare lay a finger on you?” Daniel demanded, striding toward her. “I thought you wouldn’t like a pinch-up in front of you, but give you my word, I’m more than happy to go and beat him to a pulp outside.”
Juliet was so relieved that his contempt had not been directed at her that she could only smile tremulously. She sat down a little too quickly, and he immediately dropped to a crouch in front of her.