Mistletoe and Mischief

dozed snugly on her bench and remained quiet, even after the sun disappeared over the bleak horizon and the coach was plunged into darkness.

By this time, they had stopped twice for horses already, but on neither occasion had Charles stepped down for refreshment, nor had he offered Miss Davenport any. His anxiety to get to London had increased with each mile, and every stab in his head only served to strengthen his sense of urgency. The enormity of the scandal that would certainly follow this escapade burgeoned in his mind until he was convinced his whole career would be ruined by it. That Miss Davenport seemed blissfully unaware of the damage she had done to his prospects did not improve his temper.

Eventually, the call he had expected from Timothy floated down from the box. “Shall I stop at the next village, sir?'

Charles lowered his window and felt a blast of cold air that made him wince. “How bad is it?'

“It's that bad, sir. Even wif a lantern, I don't think I'll see me own nose much longer. I'd fear to cross the moors in the dark.'

Charles sighed. “Push them as far as Brough, if you can.'

“Aye, sir.'

“Pardon me, Lord Wroxton.” Miss Davenport spoke hesitantly across from him. “But are you particularly known in Appleby, sir?'

“No.” Charles realized that in the past four hours he had not given her one chance to step down. A lady might very well feel the need to stop more often, and if that were the case, she had been exceedingly stoic. The awareness of his own thoughtlessness made him feel guilty; but he was too annoyed with her to let guilt soften his tone.

“I had thought we should make as much haste to London as possible,” he said, trying not to clench his teeth. “But if you have needs that must be met sooner, I shall certainly give the order to stop.” Not a gracious way of putting it, he thought, but he trusted that would not stop such a forward chit from demanding what she wanted.

After a diffident pause, she surprised him by saying, “It is not that I require anything in particular, and I quite understand the need to hurry. It is simply that I am rather known in Brough.'

“Good God!” Charles said, unable to help himself.

“Precisely, sir. Brough was one of the stops we were forced to make on our journey northward. And by then, you see, I was quite convinced that I wanted to return. It was only the knowledge of my own blame that kept me from making a fearful scene in the inn there. I could not very well expose Geoffrey to public insults.

“But if we stop there, too,” she continued in an apologetic voice, “and I appear with quite a different gentleman at my side, I'm afraid I shall acquire something of a bandbox reputation, indeed.'

Charles swallowed the exclamations that rose to his lips. With his head pounding, he had not reflected on all the hazards likely to face him on this journey. He had never thought that they must avoid, at all costs, not only the inns where he habitually stayed, but also the ones in which Miss Davenport had stopped with her erstwhile fiance. With little hope, he wondered what comfort would be left to them.

Without another word to her, he lowered the window again and called up to his coachman, “I have changed my mind, Timothy. I want you to stop in Appleby, after all!'

“Very good, yer lordship.” Timothy sounded so relieved that Charles was reminded of how disagreeable this trip must have been for his coachman, as well. At least he and Miss Davenport had four walls to shelter them from the north wind and furs to keep out the worst of the cold. But poor Timothy had nothing but his layered capes and rugs. He must be nearly frozen by now.

These thoughts reconciled Charles to the need to stop even more than the welcome prospect of getting treatment for the pain in his head.

Miss Davenport's voice came again from the dark. “Have you given any thought to how we should present ourselves, Lord Wroxton?'

Charles grimaced wryly. “I'm afraid I have not, Miss Davenport. But with my crest on my carriage, I can hardly present myself as anyone other than who I am.'

“Precisely what I was thinking, my lord,” she said. And with rather excessive cheerfulness, Charles thought. “And if I might make a few suggestions, I think we may overcome any suspicion of our circumstances.'

“Pray go ahead, Miss Davenport. I am all ears. I trust you shall inform me of any other villages we must avoid on our journey, as well.'

Ignoring the irony in his tone, she said, “Willingly, my lord. Well, as I was saying, I think it would be best if we said I was your cousin, Louisa, and you were escorting me home for Christmas when our baggage coach broke down outside Carlisle.

“I considered being your niece,” she confided, “but I hardly think that would serve.'

Charles gave a sardonic laugh. “Hardly,” he said, “when every rake-shame in England uses that feeble relationship to cover his liaisons.'

“Do they?” She sounded most impressed with his knowledge. “I did not know. I was thinking merely that it would be possible for you to be my uncle, but highly unlikely. How old are you, in fact?'

“I am six and twenty. But what has that to say to anything?'

“If I am to be your cousin, Lord Wroxton, I shall have to know much more about you than your age! I shall have to address you by your Christian name, and you shall have to remember to call me Louisa. You mustn't think about offending me.'

“I shall endeavour not to worry about offending you, Miss Davenport. And what else, in your opinion, must I do or not do?'

A pause told him that his rudeness had not escaped her. Charles started to apologize, but her next words cut him off.

“I know you are vexed, Lord Wroxton,” she said in a subdued tone. “If I seem too imperious, it is because I fear deception is not one of your virtues. I hate to admit that it is one of mine; but the truth is, on my way northward, I learned quite a bit about the sort of dissimulation required on such a journey. And this one might be even more complicated.'

“0h?” Charles felt a sinking in his stomach. “And why is that?'

“Because I have no baggage with me. Perhaps you did not notice.'

Charles leaned his forehead on one hand and emitted a sigh. “No, I did not. How stupid of me.'

Her tone was very understanding. “I daresay you did not have time to notice. But I had to leave my boxes at the inn to slip past Geoffrey. If I had carried even one of them, I should certainly have been remarked. As it was, the owner's wife thought I had gone to meet him at the blacksmith's shop.

“But now,” she said, “I begin to regret not having smuggled at least one gown out of my room. It's a pity, but there's nothing that can be done about it. It serves no purpose to look back.'

“I suppose not,” Charles agreed, shaking his head hopelessly.

“Well, then, how shall we explain my lack of baggage? I think I have reasoned out a story, if you will listen.'

“Carry on,” Charles said, thinking he knew now why she had been silent for so long. She must have had quite a bit of scheming to do.

When she continued, she sounded quite cheerful again-almost as if she were enjoying herself. “We shall say, then, if it pleases you, that my maid was injured in the coaching accident. And I was so distraught over her condition, that I quite forgot my own bags when we resumed our trip. We expect your servants to catch up with us on the morrow, at least, which is why we have elected to push on. My abigail, alas, shall not be able to join us.'

“Your powers of invention truly amaze me,” Charles said.

He could almost hear her blush.

“Yes, it is deplorable, is it not, that I should show such a talent for lying. However, you must not think I do so under normal circumstances. This time, I have your reputation to protect as well as my own. You would hardly expect me to place principle above my concerns for it.'

“You have my heartfelt gratitude,” Charles said, and earnestly meant it, though he knew his response sounded pettish. This headache had robbed him of his usual cordiality. “Is there anything else I should know?'

“Not that I can think of, my lord. If anything occurs to me, I shall inform you of it immediately.'