Proposals in Regency Society: Make-Believe Wife / The Homeless Heiress

Luke moaned as he slid down from the horse and his injured leg jarred. The action had caused the pain to intensify and he swayed as the faintness swirled in his head. Roxanne and the groom rushed to his aid, managing to save him from a further fall. The groom shouted for help and another two came running.

‘Ned, take the gentleman’s horse—Jeremiah, help me and then fetch the doctor. Mr Clarendon is in pain with his ankle.’

The two grooms supported Luke towards the inn, which was a modest building, with whitewashed walls, a thatched roof and small leaded windows. Luke glanced over his shoulder and drew a sigh of relief as he saw Roxanne was following with her bundles. His whole leg was throbbing now and he felt very faint. Indeed, he might have fallen had the grooms supporting him not been strong men.

He was supported into the inn. A large portly man came to greet them, his knowing eyes going over both Luke and then Roxanne.

‘Would you be needing a room for you and the—lady, sir?’

‘We need two rooms,’ Roxanne said. ‘Mr Clarendon has hurt his ankle. I think there may be a small break. One of your grooms has gone for the doctor. However, I shall be nursing Mr Clarendon until we leave.’

‘And who might you be, miss?’ The landlord’s brows met in a frown.

‘I am Mr Clarendon’s new governess,’ Roxanne said in a clear firm tone. ‘He has employed me to teach his nephew. My horse was lost in the woods; it ran off and we could not waste time looking for her. My name is Miss Roxanne Peters.’

Luke glanced at her, resisting a grin. It appeared that she could spin a tale as easily as he. The landlord looked uncertain whether to believe her, but was galvanised into action by a moan of pain from Luke.

‘Take the gentleman up to the best chamber,’ he commanded his minions. ‘The governess can have the smaller room two doors down.’

‘Thank you, landlord,’ Luke said and glanced back at Roxanne. ‘Follow us up, Miss Peters. I shall want you in attendance when the doctor arrives.’

‘I shall be with you in a moment, sir.’

The landlord had gone before them. He gestured at the room that was to be Roxanne’s, leaving her to make her own way while continuing further down the passage.

Roxanne went inside the small room. There was a narrow iron bedstead with a white counterpane, blue curtains at the window and a small chest of drawers. To a girl who had been used to living in a caravan it was perfectly adequate. Roxanne dumped her bundles on the floor, took the key from the inside of the door and locked it as she went out, pocketing it safely. Her possessions were not valuable, but they were all she had and she could not afford to lose them—nor did she wish the landlord to go poking his nose into her things.

Walking quickly to the room where she had seen them take her employer—she had decided that the best way to go on was to act the part of an upper-class servant—Roxanne entered and saw that the landlord was standing by the bed. Both the grooms had gone.

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I can manage him now.’

The landlord turned, his eyes narrowed and not exactly friendly. Roxanne felt a prickling at her nape. Mr Clarendon seemed barely conscious. She had a feeling that had she not been here to protect him, he might well have been robbed of his possessions. Perhaps she was wronging the landlord, but she was not sure he was honest.

‘Right. I’ll send the doctor up when he gets here.’ He looked at her hard. ‘I’ll be wanting five shillings a night for this room, two for yours—food and the doctor extra.’

‘Yes, of course. You will be paid. Mr Clarendon is a respectable man and we should not dream of running off without paying you.’

‘You better hadn’t. Jake Hardcastle never forgets a face—and I reckon I’ve seen yours before, but I can’t recall where. You weren’t a governess then.’ He leered at her. ‘If I don’t get paid one way, I can take my dues another.’

‘Will you please leave us.’ Roxanne’s manner was haughty, more the great lady than a governess. ‘After the doctor has been we shall want food—perhaps some good chicken broth and fresh bread.’

He inclined his head, but made no other answer. Leaving the room, he paused to look back as Roxanne bent over the bed.

‘Mr Clarendon,’ she said, placing a hand to Luke’s forehead. He was feeling warm and a little damp. She thought perhaps he had started a fever. ‘Do not worry. I am here. I shall not leave you.’

The sound of the door shutting soundly made Roxanne look round. The landlord had gone and when she turned back, her patient’s eyelids fluttered and then opened.

‘Has he gone?’ he muttered. ‘The place looks decent enough, but that fellow is a rascal. I don’t trust him. You won’t leave me, Roxanne?’

‘Miss Peters. I am your employee, remember?’

A wry laugh was wrung from his lips. ‘You will make a damned fine actress, Roxanne. You reminded me of a strict governess I once had—she frightened the life out of us all, except the earl.’

‘The earl? Who is he?’

‘Oh, just someone we lived with when I was young. He isn’t important.’ Luke moaned and beads of sweat appeared on his brow. ‘I am sorry to make so much fuss. I wouldn’t have thought a broken bone could be so painful. I do not recall it hurting this much when I broke my arm as a youngster.’

‘You had to ride here and be manhandled up the stairs. I have not been trained to set broken bones and the bandage I applied may have made the pain worse. When the doctor comes he will rebind it and give you something to help you sleep.’

‘Will you sit with me while I sleep? Or perhaps you should keep the money with you? I do not trust him.’

‘Nor I,’ she admitted. ‘Do you trust me with your gold?’

‘What choice have I?’ Luke reached out to touch her hand as she frowned. ‘No, that was badly put. Yes, I trust you, Roxanne. It is odd, but I feel I have known you for ever. I know you will not desert me, for you have given your word.’

‘Then I shall put the money somewhere safe.’

‘It is in my coat pocket, in a leather purse. I do not know exactly what is there but it should be enough to see us safely back to London.’

Roxanne examined his coat and found the purse. She opened the strings and counted the gold, holding it out on her hand so that he could see.

‘You have ten gold sovereigns, sir. I think it should be adequate for the journey, don’t you?’

‘You did not need to show me. I told you, I trust you. Now put them somewhere safe.’

‘Yes, I shall.’

Roxanne turned her back on him. Lifting her skirts, she located the secret pocket sewn into her petticoats and added the gold to her secret treasure. It felt heavy, making her very conscious of its presence, but she would become accustomed to the extra weight.

She turned back and saw Luke staring at her.

‘It is the safest place I know. My bundles could be searched or snatched.’

Luke nodded, his eyes narrowed and thoughtful. ‘You are a resourceful woman, Roxanne. I wonder what your secret is—what you are not telling me?’

‘Why should you think I have a secret?’

How could he know? No, he could not. He was just testing her.

‘I shall not pry,’ Luke said and yawned, closing his eyes. ‘You keep your secrets, Roxanne—and I shall keep mine.’

Roxanne turned her head. How had he sensed that she was hiding her secret? She had not told him about the day Sofia found her wandering, all memory of her previous life gone. Nor had she told him about the jewel she carried in her secret pocket. Sofia had told her she had been clutching it tightly in her right hand when she was found and refused to let go for days. She also carried a lace kerchief with the initials R. P. embroidered into the corner in red. Sofia had said the name Roxanne suited her. They had never bothered with a second name and she had used Peters when the innkeeper asked, because it was the first to come to her mind. She had once done some sewing for a Lady Peters and been given a gold sovereign for her trouble.

Sofia had hidden the ruby safely and Roxanne had forgotten its existence until her friend reminded her as she lay dying. Sofia had said she should sell the jewel, but Roxanne was not certain she had the right to do so, for she did not know whether it belonged to her or someone else. Had she stolen the jewel and run away from her home—or her employer?

Why had she refused to let it go for days?

She hesitated, considering whether she ought to tell Luke Clarendon the rest of her story, but the moment had passed; she heard the sound of voices outside the door and then it opened and a man entered. He was dressed in a shabby black coat and knee breeches, the battered hat he deposited on the chest having seen better days. However, his linen looked clean and he nodded his head respectfully as he approached the bed.