A Regency Virgin's Undoing: Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin / Paying the Virgin's Price

‘Obviously.’

‘Then there is a small problem,’ the innkeeper responded. ‘There are three of you, and I have but two rooms left.’

From behind him, the merchant gave an inappropriate giggle, although why he found the prospect of further discomfort to be amusing, she could not imagine.

The innkeeper continued. ‘One of the rooms will go to the lady, of course. But you gentlemen must work out between you what is to be done with the remaining space. You can share the other bed, or draw lots for it. The loser can take his chances in the parlour, once the bar is closed. But you had best decide quickly, or I shall give the space to someone else. I suspect we will be seeing more like you with coaches stalled here, or turning back because of the rain.’

‘And I see that as no problem at all,’ the merchant responded before Hendricks could speak. ‘My companions are brother and sister. Since they are such close family, a single room will suffice for them and I will take the other.’ He shot her a leer, as though pleased to have caught her in her own trap, and waited for her to admit the truth.

‘That will be all right, I am sure,’ Mr Hendricks answered before she could so much as gather her breath. She wanted to argue that it would most certainly not be all right. She was the Duke of Benbridge’s daughter and had no intention of sharing a room with any stranger, much less a strange man.

But there was something calming about the tone of Mr Hendricks’s voice, like a hand resting on her shoulder.

It will be all right. Although why she was certain of that, she could not say.

In her silence, he continued as though he was accustomed to speaking for her, and it mattered not, one way or the other whether or not she was in his bed. ‘Drusilla shall have the mattress, of course. But if you could spare another blanket for me, I would be most grateful.’

The merchant looked vaguely disappointed, like a dog that had not managed to flush a bird. Then he turned his scrutiny on her, waiting for the weak link to break and the truth to come tumbling out of her.

She stared back at him, showing what she hoped was the correct amount of annoyance at having her plans changed by nature and an overfull inn, but without the outrage that she should be feeling.

Beside her, Mr Hendricks was haggling with the hosteller, who allowed that there might be enough bedding. But there would, of course, be an extra charge for it. Apparently it was at least twice the rate that Mr Hendricks found appropriate.

As the innkeeper argued about supply and demand and reminded her faux sibling that the same blanket could be let at triple the price to the next passenger who would be forced to sleep on the floor, the sounds of the room seemed to diminish. All Drusilla heard was the sound of imaginary coins clinking from her reticule into the hand of the innkeeper. She had taken all the loose money she could find when setting out after Priss, without picking the pockets of the servants or going to her father and explaining the predicament. There had been scant little available. She suspected Priss had seen to that, specifically to prevent her following.

When Dru had counted her funds, it had seemed enough to mount a rescue. There was enough for the ticket, her food and perhaps one stop along the way. But she had not allowed for tipping the guard, emergencies, or the exorbitant rates that she might find in places where travellers were at the mercy of innkeepers and would pay what the market might bear. At this rate, she would be penniless by tomorrow’s lunch. She would be forced to turn back and admit everything to Father, or to put herself at the mercy of strangers and hope for the best.

She glanced at Mr Hendricks, who was still arguing with the innkeeper. ‘I will do without the blanket. But for that price, I expect we will have space to continue this meal in our room. Give us the larger of the two, and send the bags up so that we might be comfortable. Drusilla?’ His tone was that of an older brother, used to controlling his family.

But the sound of her own name, said in that smooth male voice, and without any polite preamble or foolish nicknames, made her skin prickle. ‘Yes, John,’ she answered, ducking her head in submission and grabbing her plate to follow him.

Chapter Three (#ulink_3cbdef5d-3b15-59e6-8436-5eaf3f7439eb)

When the door of the room closed behind them, Mr Hendricks released a string of curses directed at no one in particular. And although she should have been shocked, Drusilla had to admit that they effectively described her own feelings on the latest turn of events. He turned to glare at her. ‘Do not think to complain about what has occurred, for it is completely your own fault. If you had not forced me to lie for you, you would have the room to yourself.’

‘And at the prices they are charging, I would not have been able to pay for it,’ she responded, just as cross.

‘You are a duke’s daughter. And you do not have enough blunt in your pocket to stay in an inn?’ He laughed. ‘Call the innkeeper back, mention your father’s name and not only will he extend you credit, he will turn out one of the other guests so that we may have two beds and a private sitting room, instead of this squalid hole he has given us.’

‘If I wished to bandy my father’s name in every inn between here and Gretna, I would be travelling escorted in a private carriage. And you would be sleeping on the floor of the taproom.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Where you belong.’

Her unwilling companion bowed in response. ‘Thank you so much for you kind opinion of me, Lady Drusilla. It is particularly welcome coming from one who cannot pay for her own bed.’

Though she was used to being the brunt of sarcasm at home, somehow it hurt more coming from Mr Hendricks. And she had brought it upon herself by taunting him.

But before she could apologise, he continued. ‘I suppose the next thing you will do is request that I loan you sufficient to cover your dinner, the room and tomorrow’s breakfast as well.’ When she did not correct him, he laughed bitterly. ‘Why am I not surprised at this? Is it not typical that a member of your class should be relying on me, yet again, to rescue them from their own folly at the expense of my own needs?’ He was gesticulating wildly now, pacing the little space available in their room. ‘Mr Hendricks, write my letters for me. Mr Hendricks, rent me a room. Mr Hendricks, lie to my wife. Not a word of this to my husband, Hendricks. As if I have no other goal in life than to run hither and yon, propping up the outlandish falsehoods of people too foolish to predict their outcome.’ He stopped suddenly, as though just noticing that he was speaking the words aloud. Then he dropped his hands to his sides and examined her closely. ‘You are not about to cry, are you?’

‘Certainly not.’ She reached up and touched her own cheek to make sure. She was not normally given to bouts of tears, but it would be most embarrassing to succumb without warning.

‘That is good,’ he said. ‘I am not normally so transparent in my feelings. But it has been a trying week. And as you pointed out earlier, I am somewhat the worse for drink and ranting about things that are no fault of yours.’

‘But you are right in your displeasure,’ she allowed. ‘It was unfair of me to request your help in a situation you had no part in creating.’

He sat down next to her suddenly. ‘I almost wish you were crying. I’d have been much more able to resist you had that been the case.’

Resist me? She had hardly brought the force of her personality to bear on the man, other than the kick on the ankle. And although she was often described by men as formidable, it was usually said in a tone of annoyance, or occasionally awe. Though it meant nearly the same, it felt much nicer to be irresistible.

He looked at her thoughtfully, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose as though trying to get a clear view of the situation before speaking again. Then he said, ‘Leaving London with no chaperon and no money was very foolish of you. But since I was equally foolish to leave the city drunk and on the wrong coach, I have no right to upbraid you.’

Comparing the two situations, she could hardly call them equal. His was probably the worse. But he was the one with the fatter purse and she was in no position to make enemies. ‘Thank you,’ she said as mildly as possible.

He frowned for a moment, as though trying to remember something, then added, ‘Did I mention earlier that I am currently without a position?’

‘No, you did not.’ Although why it should matter, she had no idea.

‘Then, my lady, I see a solution to both our problems.’ His previous insolence evaporated in a single sentence. In its place was a natural deference, with no hint of the obsequious servility she’d seen in some servants. ‘I have some experience in dealing with situations rather like yours. Until several days ago, I was personal secretary to the Earl of Folbroke.’

That would explain it, then. He wasn’t a preacher or a teacher. He had been a confidential employee of a peer. ‘And under what circumstances did you leave this position?’ she asked, trying to decide where the conversation was likely to lead them.

‘Nothing that would prevent him from giving a positive reference, were he here now.’

Drusilla was glad he was not. The room was hardly big enough for the two of them, without adding former employers into the mix.

‘I have letters to that effect,’ Mr Hendricks said.

‘Which are?’

‘In London.’

‘I see.’

He removed his spectacles to polish them before continuing. ‘But that job gave me experience in dealing with the sort of delicate situations that sometimes occur in families such as yours.’

Utterly mad ones, you mean. The way he’d been raving before, she was sure that he had interesting stories to tell, were he the sort of man to share confidences about his employers. Which he was not.

‘Handling matters with discretion is a personal strong point of mine,’ he confirmed, as though reading her mind. ‘And if you could ensure me of repayment when we return to London, a bit more for my troubles, and perhaps a letter of reference?’

‘More than that. My father will write the letter himself. And he will see to it that you are generously rewarded at the end of the affair.’

Behind his glasses, Mr Hendricks’s amber eyes glittered. References from an earl were no small thing. But if he could win the favour of a duke, he would be seen as nearly invaluable by his next employer.

‘The Duke of Benbridge will be most grateful to hear that the matter was handled with discretion.’ After he got used to the idea, at any rate.

‘He will not mind that you are travelling alone?’ Hendricks asked, searching for a flaw in her story.

Her father would be livid when he learned that Priss had run, and even angrier to know that Dru had not caught her before she’d left the house. In comparison to that, travelling alone or hiring a stranger would be as nothing. ‘He will not be happy,’ she admitted. ‘But it is not as if I am the one eloping with Mr Gervaise. I am trying to prevent his elopement … with another.’ If it was possible, she would keep Priss out of the story a while longer. If Hendricks knew of her father, then it was possible he’d heard gossip of Benbridge’s wilful younger daughter and would realise that the girl might need to be dragged kicking and screaming back home. ‘Just a trip to Scotland and back. It will be very little trouble at all.’ At least Drusilla meant to be no trouble. Her sister was likely to be trouble enough for two people. ‘Once I find the couple, I will be able to handle the rest of it. But if you could clear the way for me, paying bills, handling luggage and protecting me from men such as our companion?’

‘And keep my mouth shut at the end of it?’ For a moment, the candid Mr Hendricks had returned and was grinning at her.