My Lord Highwayman Read online

  “You should let the vicar know about the Runner so that our friend might be warned his thieving days are over, or at least they ought to be.” It was generally believed that Mr. Clark, even if he did not know the highwayman personally, knew how to get messages to him.

  “I shall do so this morning,” Treyford said, “for I mean to see the good man before returning to the Hall.”

  “Is there any sign of our governess?” Lavant called to him.

  “No, not from this vantage point.” Lavant’s study overlooked the front gravel drive, but the long entrance was yet quiet and sedate, although in the distance he thought he detected a rise of dust from the lane beyond, but he wasn’t certain.

  Lavant grunted, then glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Well, it is not yet ten, though if she is not here at the hour we agreed upon, I daresay I shall be forced to dismiss her before she has even begun.”

  Treyford moved away from the window and took up a leather wing chair by the brick fireplace. “Sarah is nearly eighteen. I vow I am at a loss as to why you hired another governess in the first place.”

  “You know very well why. Though I love my daughter with every ribbon of my heart, she is still not fit to run amidst Lady Waldron’s set. Good God. Only last sennight, during church services, she put a frog in Lady Boxgrove’s reticule. The deuced female nearly went off in a fit of apoplexy.”

  Treyford cracked his laughter. “A harmless prank.”

  “You know deuced well it won’t do. She won’t do. And that with her come-out ball a little more than a month off.”

  “By the way, where is your daughter? I have not seen her this morning and generally she is very prompt to greet me.” He smiled provokingly.

  “Where do you suppose?” he growled.

  “In the attics, organizing the trials to which she means to subject her new governess?” Treyford chuckled.

  Lavant nodded, his expression resigned. “I have sired a vixen, God help me.”

  At that, Treyford laughed heartily. After a time, when he settled into an occasional chuckle, he said, “If it is any consolation, I am convinced that dear Sarah’s preparations for the arrival of her governess are suited exactly to what the lady deserves once she crosses your threshold, or any threshold where she means to be employed with the pretense of actually imparting knowledge to her charges.”

  “Harsh words, Treyford. Even for you, old chap.”

  “Lay them all down to vast experience of the breed to which I refer. I have yet to meet one governess with even a modicum of learning, a particle of character, or with a motive any larger than intending to set her cap at the most promising bachelor in the neighborhood.”

  Lavant shrugged. “As to that, I suppose there is an element of truth to what you are saying. However, I need only that the woman rig Sarah out in a proper style and see that she does not set the Tabbies to gossiping more than is usual the night of her ball.”

  “And I forewarn you, my good friend, that you are asking a great deal too much. For one thing, I’ll wager your governess will not last the night.”

  “Five pounds?”

  “To the orphanage, yes, whoever the winner.”

  “Done. Ah, do I hear a carriage now?”

  “I believe so.”

  Lavant crossed the room to stand at the window, and Treyford rose to pour himself a second cup of coffee. Lavant had an excellent cook, and the coffee was always first-rate.

  “Pennymoot sent her in the old Berliner. Good God, it will fall apart should a strong wind arise.”

  “That old thing.”

  The clock chimed ten.

  “Well, she is at least punctual.”

  “What woman will not hurry to the sound of wedding bells, for surely she has already learned that our little vale is filled with a score of eligible bachelors, unless, of course, she is a complete antidote.”

  Lavant did not respond except to say, “She is descending and lifting her head . . . oh, good God. The devil. Of all the nuisances. I thought I had requested—damn, I’m near fit to explode.”

  “What is it, man?” Treyford asked, startled. “Is she covered in spots or something?”

  “No.” His aging brow was furrowed into a line across his forehead, his chest heaved with irritation, and his lips were pursed. “Nothing of the sort. I should have preferred spots. Dammit, man, she’s beautiful.”

  Treyford was taking a sip of hot coffee and choked badly as he attempted to swallow. He then laughed. “Why ever would you complain about having a beautiful governess in your house? At the very least, she should be beautiful to compensate for all her other flaws.”

  “I’m angry because I have little doubt you will win my wager. Have you ever known a beauty to be made of stern stuff? She will not have the strength to stand against Sarah’s mischief. Now, who am I going to get to prepare my daughter for her come-out ball? Damn, I can’t do it.”

  The knocker sounded loudly in the nearby entrance hall. With his head lowered as one going to war, Lavant quit his private study.

  Treyford carried his cup of coffee back to the chair he was inhabiting by the fireplace. He had no interest in the governess, a beauty or not. He therefore intended to remain in his seat. She deserved no particular attention from him.

  Lavant’s voice boomed in the entrance hall. “Stockleigh. Hold the coach and help them reload all the baggage.”

  Sylvester Lavant was a large man, so the governess would probably be overset to the point of tears by the end of this interview. He smiled happily at the thought of it.

  Lavant’s voice again boomed. “Miss Chailey, you will have to leave. You were not at all what I expected. I shall pay your expenses for a return trip to London and a month’s wages, of course, but you must go. At once. Stockleigh will bring the coach back.”

  “May I ask in what way I am not the sort of governess you desired, Mr. Lavant?”

  At the sound of Miss Chailey’s voice, Treyford, who had been in the midst of yet another hearty gulp of coffee, sputtered again, choking several more times. The exact tenor of the lady’s voice was unmistakable. He was hearing the voice of the daughter of Artemis.

  Good God. The woman he had kissed last night, and that so heartily, was a governess. The thought was wholly repugnant to him. She ought to be anything but a governess.

  “Why are you not the sort I require?” he bellowed as though any nodcock might comprehend his meaning were he to apply his mind to the task. “Why? Because you are far too pretty to be a governess.”

  The woman merely chuckled in response as though she wasn’t deterred in the least.

  She chuckled. How odd. How intriguing.

  He must look at her though. He must see for himself that this voice did belong to the beauty he had kissed. But then, Lavant had already described her as a great beauty. It must be she.

  Treyford was on his feet before he had even made the conscious decision to move. He slipped to the doorway, remaining in the shadows as much as possible. Unfortunately, her back was to him. She appeared to be untying the ribbons of her bonnet, which was causing Lavant to scowl even further, since this gave evidence that the lady had no immediate intention of departing. She was speaking again.

  “Do you have a table upon which I might settle my bonnet?”

  Lavant, apparently stunned by the lady’s composure, gestured fortuitously toward the wall nearest the study.

  The lady turned. Treyford stepped back into the shadows a little more. He blinked and felt his heart pause mid-beat. There could be no mistake—he was looking at the daughter of the moon, the creature he had kissed so thoroughly and whom he desired more than anything to kiss again. She was to be Sarah’s governess and he could therefore see her whenever he wished. Only, did he wish to see her now that he knew she was a governess?

  Lavant met his gaze over her head, and Treyford could see his good friend was appearing completely mystified. The lady was yet speaking. Her voice was calm and even as she gave something of her history.
She had been educated for many years by her father, an impoverished but delightful antiquarian, until her fifteenth year, at which time she was forced by the sad circumstance of his untimely death to reside in an orphanage in Berkshire, where she had tutored the younger students while continuing her education under the guidance of a truly brilliant woman by the name of Miss Hollocombe.

  “I understand from Mr. Pennymoot that I ought to check my bed linens before retiring for the night. If you have a concern on that head, that I might not have sufficient pluck to withstand such pranks, I wish to assure you I am a resilient creature. My last post, in which I supervised three young ladies, also housed five little boys, each naughtier than the last. I tell you truly that I found the conditions wonderfully lively and not in the least unmanageable.”

  “Then why did you quit the post?” he barked. “You ought to have stayed there if you were so deuced content.”

  “I became betrothed to the eldest son, and a new governess was hired to continue the education of the young ladies.”

  “Why am I not surprised? Set your cap for him at the outset, did you, yet in the end he jilted you? Probably far too young, for you are not in the first blush of youth.”

  Treyford was a little astonished at Lavant’s incivility on so many fronts. However, the daughter of the moon did not seem in the least overset. She patted her crushed curls, and her shoulders remained perfectly set in a proud, quite lovely countenance.

  He heard her chuckle. “The young man was not young precisely. He was the only son of a first marriage and was three and thirty. As to why I did not wed him, Mr. Lavant, I should prefer to remain discreet or perhaps save the recounting of the circumstances until a later date. For now I wish to be shown to my chambers and then to meet your daughter. I am eager to do so, for unless you can give me a truly sensible reason for not wishing me here, I intend to remain and see my duty through.”

  To Treyford’s eye, Lavant seemed entirely nonplussed, something he rarely was. “Suit yourself,” he barked at last. “But I vow you will be gone before the night is through.”

  “That I cannot permit to happen,” she said somberly.

  “Why?” he queried, curious. “I already told you I would be happy to pay your return trip to London and a month’s wage as well, if you are concerned about losing the income.”

  “You are very generous, but I am not so impoverished that I would need your charity. The fact is, I have taken a strong liking to Mr. Pennymoot, at the Mermaid, and I do not wish him to lose his wager. He had enough faith in me to bet a ten-pound note I should last a full month. How could I disappoint him, when he has expressed so much confidence in me, and that after having conversed with me for only a short time this morning?”

  Mr. Lavant’s brows rose as one stunned. He then laughed outright. “You are full of pluck and I begin to think you might even last the night, though I would not wager for a month. So, Mr. Pennymoot actually wagered ten pounds. Good God.”

  Treyford withdrew into the study and returned his coffee cup to the service ware near the door. He knew Lavant sufficiently well to comprehend that he would be introduced to Miss Chailey forthwith but had no desire to confront her just yet. He was experiencing some difficulty in aligning the truths that Miss Chailey was both the extraordinary young woman he had kissed last night as well as a lady who plied a trade he particularly despised. He had a great deal to contemplate before again greeting the daughter of the moon.

  He quit by the door leading to the back of the house. Lavant might be a little disappointed by his sudden departure but surely not surprised since he was well versed in his dislike of governesses in general.

  * * * * * * * * *

  Abigail had never quite encountered a man of Lavant’s stamp before, and she had certainly never arrived at a house only to be confronted with instant dismissal merely because she was thought to be too pretty.

  Regardless of the strangeness of the interview, she found she rather liked the man before her. He was full of bluster, that was quite obvious, but then, she had known many gentlemen who frequently bellowed and boomed about a house as though commanding the deck of a Royal Navy man o’war instead of a home where children were the only officers to be brought into line. Generally, though it was not always the rule, such men had barks far worse than their bites. Even then, Mr. Lavant’s expression had softened, more so when he turned to glance up the stairs.

  “There you are, Sarah, my darling. You are arrived just in time to meet your new governess. Come, make your prettiest curtsy to Miss Chailey.”

  “I should be happy to, Papa.”

  Abigail turned toward the stairs and had the delight of seeing an absolutely adorable young woman trip lightly down the last few remaining steps. Her hair was a beautiful dark brown and caught up in a ladylike manner into a knot atop her head with a spray of curls enlivening a pretty forehead. She wore a pink gown of sprigged muslin, a simple gold locket as befitted her age, and ear-drops the color of the sky. Her eyes were a lovely cornflower blue, and a dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose completed a portrait of youthful innocence and beauty.

  How utterly deceptive, Abigail thought with an inward smile. Had she not been previously warned by both Mr. Pennymoot and Mr. Lavant, she would have been thoroughly taken in by the young woman’s demure expression and her overall appearance of quiet gentility.

  “How do you do, Miss Chailey? I am very pleased to make your acquaintance.”

  Miss Lavant dropped into an elegant and quite practiced curtsy.

  “Very well, thank you, Miss Lavant.”

  Miss Lavant rose from her curtsy and returned Abigail’s gaze in a direct, assessing manner that put her so forcibly in mind of her father that she could not help but smile.

  “I understand your come-out ball is approaching,” Abigail offered.

  “Yes, in a month’s time. You are to prepare me for it, or so Papa says, but I do not need preparing. I have been instructed quite sufficiently on decorum and manners.” Her nose rose a little.

  “Of course you have,” Abigail returned. “When a lady reaches the age of seventeen, generally she is completely polished in every respect.”

  Miss Lavant opened her eyes very wide. Abigail was pleased for it would seem her young charge did not lack for intelligence.

  Miss Lavant turned slightly away from her, lifting her chin as well as her nose this time. “Papa, is Uncle Trey still here? I think he should meet my new governess, don’t you?”

  “That will do, Sarah,” Mr. Lavant stated firmly. “Treyford. Do come here and let me present you to Miss Chailey.” To Abigail he said, “Lord Treyford is a good friend of mine, a neighbor. He visits frequently and I should like you to know him. A good man. Treyford?” After a moment, he said, “Cursed fellow. He must have left. Well, you will meet him soon enough, since he is to dine with us tomorrow evening.”

  Stockleigh appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath. “I have seen the portmanteaus and the bandboxes restored to the coach, Mr. Lavant.”

  “Bah. As to that, Stockleigh, Miss Chailey will be staying after all. Bring them all in.”

  Stockleigh rolled his eyes. “Very good, sir.” He drew in a deep breath and returned the way he had come.

  “Since it would seem Uncle Trey is not here,” Miss Lavant said, “perhaps I should show Miss Chailey to her chambers now.”

  “If you please,” Abigail returned kindly, “I should like to be settled.”

  Three

  Abigail followed Miss Lavant up three flights of stairs to the attic garrets where the servants were generally housed. The young lady paused at last, at the end of a darkened hall, and gestured to an open doorway. Abigail drew close, peering into a small, poorly lit room.

  “I know this must seem odd to you,” Miss Lavant began in a manner that was far too innocent to be credible, “but the proper chambers have been overrun of late with, er, mice, and our housekeeper felt you would be more comfortable here.”

  Abig
ail surveyed dispassionately the ridiculous room and restrained the amusement that bubbled up within her. The small window was dirty, and the bed was covered in a threadbare counterpane tossed at an unruly angle across the bed. A rickety highboy sat in the corner, upon which was perched somewhat precariously, a chipped water pitcher and basin. A wardrobe with a door that hung awkwardly on the hinges was the final homey touch to the chamber.

  “How very charming,” Abigail observed. She immediately crossed to the bed, just as Mr. Pennymoot had suggested she do, and drew back the counterpane rather slowly. A small green snake slithered deeper into the covers as the cold air struck its scales. “Goodness. Imagine a snake climbing so many stairs. I find I am astonished.”

  The young lady’s expression did not waver even a mite. “I daresay he is a very athletic reptile,” she responded coolly.

  “Did these antics, Miss Lavant, have any effect whatsoever on your last governess?”

  Miss Lavant set her lips in a hard line. “At least my last governess had sufficient pride to turn on her heel the moment I led her here.”

  “Perhaps you are mistaken,” Abigail offered, holding the young lady’s gaze forcefully. “Perhaps it was not pride at all but, rather, a profound disgust.” She was pleased with the sharp intake of breath from her pupil. She continued. “However, I am not leaving, at least not yet. Only, tell me what other delights await me in this room.” As though on cue, a frog croaked loudly. “Ah, I hear one of the culprits now.”

  Abigail went to the water pitcher and saw three frogs hidden deep within, all of them staring up at her, their chins swelling and deflating contentedly. She laughed. “How I have missed the country. Do come here, little toad.” She dipped her hand within and fetched the largest of the three.

  “It is not a toad. There is a difference, or do you not know anything?”