Secrets of a Gentleman Escort

‘I could have done that,’ she managed to choke out. The plate, the picnic, the gig. She could have done all of it. She’d been making her own arrangements and decisions for years.

‘Of course you could have.’ He sat down again. ‘That’s not the point.’

‘You’re not here to wait on me,’ she protested between bites of shirred eggs. But it was a half-hearted protest at best. Had breakfast ever tasted this good? Her usual breakfast was more of a pro forma ritual, something she had to do. This morning, however, she was aware the eggs were hot, the sausage was spicy, the toast was warm and the butter was melted.

‘Let me worry about what I’m here to do and not do.’ Nicholas took his seat again.

‘I’ll change after breakfast so I don’t keep you waiting.’

He knit his dark brows together in exaggerated consternation. ‘Why change? You look lovely in what you’re wearing.’

‘It’s not a driving dress,’ she argued, but again with little heat. A carriage dress would be much warmer wear and less comfortable than her morning dress in cool white muslin sprigged with tiny pink flowers and who was there to see her?

He leaned forwards, resting his chin on his hand. ‘No one is likely to see us. Why don’t you send your maid for a hat and gloves and call it good?’ He rose and held out his hand, giving her no chance to refuse. She couldn’t very well go with him and go back upstairs to change. He’d left her no choice.

Nicholas had been a whirlwind of efficiency that morning, a fact she realised once he allowed her a moment to appreciate the details of their departure. He had her settled in the gig, hat, gloves, light wrap and all, within minutes, pointedly deflecting her questions about what was strapped to the maid’s seat in the back with a laugh, saying only, ‘You’ll see when we get there and not a moment sooner.’

He leapt up beside her on the narrow seat, a seat really made for one-and-a-half people instead of two, especially if one of them was a full-grown man with long legs. He picked up the ribbons and clucked to the horse, a sturdy chestnut she often used for short jaunts, and they were off, jouncing along at close quarters, an effect which was not lost on Annorah. She tried vainly to keep her thigh from touching his on the small seat, but the more she tried, the more he made sure his leg took up the space until she had no choice other than to let her body relax alongside his. Perhaps if she said something?

‘You’re doing that on purpose.’ He might truly be unaware of it after all. But her mind laughed at her. He knew very well what he was doing and so did she.

‘Doing what?’ They hit a bump in the road and his leg brushed hers.

‘That.’

Nicholas laughed, the sound filling the empty road around them. ‘It’s a small seat, Annorah, where do you propose I put my leg? Besides, I don’t think it’s an unpleasant sensation, merely a new one.’ One she feared she could get used to, like breakfast plates and just as easily.

Everything was easy with him. He hadn’t even been here a day and already he’d insinuated himself into the routine of her life. He’d done it so well, in fact, that there was an undeniable sense of rightness in having him beside her, almost as if they’d known each other for far longer.

‘It’s all right to like me, you know.’ Nicholas slid her a sidelong glance, his intuition catching her off guard with its accuracy. ‘It would be better if you did, actually.’

‘How did you know that’s what I was thinking? Do you read minds?’

‘I read bodies and lifestyles. You’ve been independent for a long time, too independent if you want my opinion. You aren’t used to having people look out for you.’

‘You’re wrong there. I have servants.’

‘It’s not the same. I mean someone who looks out for you voluntarily, without being asked.’

‘What does that have to do with liking you?’ Annorah shifted on the seat, wishing there was some way to put distance between herself and this interview.

‘Everything. Your independence has made you cautious of others.’ He guided the horse around a sunken spot in the road.

‘Stop thinking of me as another hired servant and start letting yourself like me, Annorah. There’s no harm in it.’

He might be right but it didn’t stop her from feeling defensive. ‘You are not my friend.’ She shot him a look to see how he’d take the pronouncement.

‘No, I’m not. I’m much, much better.’

‘I can trust my friends,’ Annorah said staunchly.

He arched an eyebrow. ‘Really? Then answer me this. Why have you been alone so long?’

Annorah fixed her eyes on the road. She was not going to answer that out loud. Because people hurt people. Intentionally or unintentionally, the result was still the same and she simply couldn’t go through it again. What her aunt and a long string of suitors had done to her for the sake of money was unforgivable.

‘We all have the lives we want, Annorah. Nothing will change that until we do,’ he said softly.

Nothing except calendars and legally binding documents. It was on the tip of her tongue to challenge that statement. No matter what she did, everything was going to change in a matter of weeks and she still hadn’t decided what to do. Annorah pushed the thought away with a hard mental shove. She’d promised herself she wouldn’t think about that while he was here. This was her last escape from reality. Her obligations weren’t supposed to intrude during these last days.

The cry of a hawk overhead broke the silence. Nicholas bumped her shoulder with his and pointed to the cloudless sky, impressed with the sudden intruder. ‘We don’t see many of them in London.’

Annorah looked up. ‘They live in the hills. There’s a whole family of them that have been here since I can remember.’ She smiled. ‘When I was little, we used to pretend to be hawks. We used to pretend we could fly.’ She gave a little laugh. ‘That’s silly, isn’t it?’

‘Not really. I had a kite when I was younger. I used to fly it and wish for the same thing.’ He smiled back at her, taking his eyes from the road long enough to meet her gaze, letting the sweetness of a childhood memory remembered pass between them.

‘I can hardly picture you as a little boy.’ It was difficult to think of this perfect man as a rambunctious scamp, running about the countryside in short trousers flying a kite.

‘Why not? I was adorable.’ He pretended mock hurt.

She gave a slight shake of her head. ‘It’s just that you’re so well put together; your clothes, your manners, you seem to always know what to do and what to say. I can’t imagine you not always having been this way.’

Nicholas laughed. ‘My mother wouldn’t describe me that way. I assure you, I had my share of scraped knees and less-than-pristine moments.’ He winked and said with exaggerated seriousness, ‘I had a mother, too, just think of it.’

* * *

The conversation had become easier after that. They talked of the plants they passed, the wildflowers that grew along the side of the road, the fields and the crops, until he turned off and brought the gig up beside the wide grey ribbon of river to a place where it pooled into a swimming hole beneath the shade of an old oak tree.

‘I haven’t been here in ages.’ She looked down at him, instantly suspicious as he came over to her side of the gig. ‘How did you know about this place?’

Nicholas shrugged and swung her down, letting his hands linger at her waist, his grip strong and confident as he held her. ‘I asked around. Your master of horse said this was a good spot for a picnic.’ Nicholas moved to the back of the gig and began to unpack, revealing at last what he’d stowed away. ‘I hear it’s a good place to fish.’

Fishing poles! Good heavens, she hadn’t seen the fishing poles for years, not since her grandfather had passed away actually. She hadn’t even been sure the poles were still around. Part of her assumed they’d simply found their way into other hands—perhaps a groom or two who’d gone fishing on a day off and had kept them, or perhaps some boys in the village had borrowed them. But here they were, looking as able as ever. He held out a pole. ‘Are you game?’

Annorah shot a quick glance at his boots, noting their high polish and expense. Water would ruin them. ‘You have to go in the water to fish.’

Nicholas gave her a wink. ‘I’ll let you in on a little secret. I plan on taking them off. How about you? I don’t think those half-boots will fare any better.’ Nicholas sat down on a big boulder by the river and tugged at his boots. He tossed them aside. ‘Here’s another secret. I plan to take off a lot more than my boots.’

Dear lord, he meant it. Annorah’s mouth went dry as he pushed up his trousers and began rolling off his socks, revealing well-muscled calves. It was ridiculous to be aroused by a man’s legs, but she rather doubted most men had legs like his; so perfectly turned with a sculpted bulge of muscle and tanned, too, not a pasty white. It suggested extraordinarily good health. Here was a man who knew how to take care of himself, whose body was not padded and moulded into a false representation of its true physique. There was no artifice here.

No, absolutely none, she affirmed a moment later. Off came his jacket, just to reinforce the point. The thin linen of his shirt hugged the breadth of his shoulders and tapered into the waistband of his trousers, calling attention to the trim line of his hips.

‘Well? Stop dawdling, Annorah.’ Nicholas stepped into the river with his pole. ‘We don’t eat until we fish.’

Right, just as soon as I get my jaw shut. She was being ridiculous.

He tossed a fishing pole in her direction. ‘Unless you’re too scared?’

That did it. She’d been more than an able fisher in her day. Annorah set to her boots with a flurry of efficiency. Boots and stockings were off, the skirts of her dress hiked up with the help of a hair ribbon. ‘I can outfish a man about town like you any day of the week.’