innocent and trusting young women.”
Squashing her spurt of indignation—after all, Mrs. Harper had serious reasons for her jaundiced view of men, her daughter having been enticed away from home by a soldier—she merely nodded peaceably. “But I do believe him to be very kind and good-natured.”
“Feckless,” Mrs. Harper pronounced. “At best.”
Since he had more or less admitted that particular charge, Juliette did not dispute it. She merely finished her soup and accompanied Mrs. Harper to refresh herself. By the time they returned, there were honey cakes on the table, most of the passengers were still plowing through their pie and vegetables, and the coachman was calling for everyone to be back on board.
Hastily, Juliet crammed a forkful of vegetables into her mouth, then seized a cake, and wrapped it in her clean handkerchief before stuffing it into her reticule. Gun kept nudging her with his nose.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” she told the dog and rushed outside.
Under the fading light, everyone piled back into or onto the coach, and they got underway once more. After little more than a bowl of soup, Juliet wondered if she should just eat the honey cake now because it looked as if she would not get her pie before the next stop when it would be cold.
However, they were not much farther along the road when a sudden knock against the coach window startled her. Jerking her head around, she gasped. Mrs. Brown squealed, for an upside-down face had appeared outside the window.
Daniel.
With a gasp, she flung down the window. Before she could speak, the tin bowl, complete with lid, was thrust through the window, and she seized it automatically.
“Mr.—” she began, in fear for his safety, but with a last grin, his face vanished upward, and laughter shook her.
The other passengers stared at her open-mouthed, which made her shoulders shake harder. Hastily, she opened the lid and found a slice of pie, and at least half the vegetables that been in the bowl to start with.
“You see?” she crowed to Mrs. Harper. “He wasn’t stealing my dinner.”
Of course, she had to eat the pie with her fingers, and use the last of the crust as a spoon for the vegetables, and the process was a little messy. Nevertheless, she felt much better when she had eaten and sat back, replete, clutching the bowl on her lap and wiping her fingers on a second handkerchief.
She returned the bowl to Daniel during the next stop. He looked different in the flaring lantern light, his lean face shadowed, his dark eyes somehow mysterious, reminding her that he was a stranger.
“Thank you,” she said, “but you should not have risked life and limb to give it to me!”
“Oh, I was perfectly safe,” he assured her. “Gordon here was holding onto my legs. This is Gordon,” he added, indicating another roof passenger, who smiled and raised his hat to her. “Gordon, Miss Smith. Gordon owes me fifty thousand pounds.”
Juliet’s jaw dropped. Mr. Gordon looked like an amiable young schoolmaster, not the sort of man who had ever possessed fifty thousand pounds.
“Imaginary pounds,” Mr. Gordon said apologetically. “He’s been beating me since Waltham. Every hand.”
Juliet, who still felt unreasonably guilty that her father had once won another man’s fortune at gaming, smiled with relief.
“Here you are, gents,” Mr. George said as he headed back toward the coach from the inn. He held out the newspaper he had been reading earlier. “I’ve read it. Imagine it’s more about your friends than mine.”
Mr. Gordon took it with a polite thank you.
“Wouldn’t waste your time with that,” Daniel said with distaste.
Mr. Gordon, who had stepped nearer the coach lanterns to glance through the paper, snorted. “What, not even Orgy at C. Place? Even when she’s… Oh, begging your pardon, ma’am,” he added hastily, remembering Juliet’s presence.
The blood drained from Juliet’s face. She had almost forgotten the reason for this adventure. While the oily, Mr. George had been reading these lies about her, and now Daniel would, too.
Not that either would know Miss Smith was Lady J.L., but the very idea made her queasy.
Daniel was frowning at her, as though sensing her sudden discomfort.
“I believe we are about to depart,” she muttered. “Good night, gentlemen.”
Chapter Three
Lord Barden was enjoying a lazy day following the excitement of the party at the Princess of Wales’s residence in Connaught Place. He had let loose the first volley of his Great Vengeance Plan, and he meant to complete the next stage by the end of tomorrow, and then