Regency Rogues: Rakes' Redemption: Return of the Runaway (The Infamous Arrandales) / The Outcast's Redemption (The Infamous Arrandales)

‘I have not seen that trinket before.’

‘The locket?’ She put one hand up to her breast. ‘Until today I have worn it beneath my riding shirt. It is the last of my jewellery. I sold the rest to pay for my journey.’

‘It holds special memories for you, perhaps.’

Her hand closed over it.

‘A portrait of my husband.’

‘Ah. I understand.’

Cassie did not reply, but gave her attention to finishing her breakfast. It was better that he thought she loved her husband. She was now sure enough of his character to know he would not wish to seduce another man’s wife.

They left Reims looking every inch a respectable couple. The trunk was packed and strapped on to the hired chaise, Cassie made herself comfortable inside, and Raoul rode as escort on the long-tailed bay. Their journey continued without incident. Cassie had given Raoul sufficient funds to pay for their board and lodgings, they were civil to one another when they stopped to dine on the road, and Raoul made no demur about sleeping in a dressing room at the wayside inn that provided their lodgings for the night. Their fear of discovery receded, too, for whereas the soldiers at the bridges and gendarmes at the town gates might question a pair of ragged travellers, a wealthy gentleman and his wife roused no suspicions and they were waved through without question. However, she agreed with Raoul that they should take a more circuitous route and avoid the main highway, which was constantly busy with soldiers. Their journey was going well. Raoul was very different from Merimon, her first, rascally escort, and she knew she was fortunate that he was such an honourable man.

Cassie wondered why, then, she should feel so discontented. Her eyes moved to the window and to the figure of Raoul, mounted upon the long tailed bay. She wanted him. She wanted him to hold her, to make love to her.

Shocking. Reprehensible. Frightening. She had already admitted to herself that eloping had been a mistake. How much more of a mistake to allow herself to develop a tendre for a man like Raoul Doulevant? A man whom she would not see again once she returned to England. Besides, it was nothing more than lust, she knew that. They were constantly at odds with one another and had he not told her himself he had no cause to like the English? Reluctantly she shifted her gaze away from him. No, much better to keep her distance, it would be madness to allow the undoubted attraction between them to take hold. If only she could forget what had happened in the lake, forget his kiss, the way it felt to have her naked body pressed close to his, the heat that had flowed between them despite the cool water.

She gave herself a little shake. The strong yearning she felt was because she was lonely. The last few months with Gerald had been very unhappy. She had no close friends in Verdun and loyalty had kept her from confiding her problems to anyone. Once she was back in England, living with Grandmama, taking up her old life again, she would be able to put from her mind her time in France. She smoothed out the skirts of her yellow muslin and tried to smother the quiet voice that told her Raoul Doulevant would not be easy to forget.

It was some time past noon and they were passing over a particularly uneven section of road when there was a sudden splintering crash and the carriage shuddered to a halt, lurching drunkenly into the ditch. Cassie was thrown from her seat and was lying dazed against the side of the carriage that now appeared to be the floor when the door above her opened. She heard Raoul’s voice, sharp with concern.

‘Are you hurt?’

Cassie moved cautiously.

‘I do not think so.’

He reached down to her. She grasped his hand and he lifted her out of the chaise and on to the ground. She found she was shaking and clung to Raoul for a moment until her legs would once more support her.

‘What happened?’ she asked him.

‘One of the wheels is broken,’ said Raoul, adding bitterly, ‘It is no surprise when you look at the state of the road. We should be thankful the windows did not shatter.’

‘Ah, well, you see, now the aristos are gone there’s no one to pay for the upkeep.’

They looked around to find a burly individual standing behind them. The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

‘The great house back there. When the family was in residence they paid handsomely to maintain this road in good condition for all their fine friends. Since they’ve gone...’ he shrugged ‘...no one around here cares to repair it for others to use.’

‘Who are you?’ Raoul asked him. ‘Do you live at the chateau?’

‘No, but I farm the land hereabouts and live in the grounds with my wife. Looking after the place, you might say.’

Cassie glanced through the trees towards the large house in the distance. The once-grand building looked decidedly sorry for itself, windows broken and shutters hanging off.

‘Then you are not looking after it very well,’ said Raoul, giving voice to Cassie’s thoughts.

‘Ah, good monsieur, I am but a humble farmer. The damage occurred when the family left.’ He spat on the ground. ‘They are either dead or fled abroad and I have neither the money nor authority to repair it. I merely keep an eye on it, so to speak.’

‘Enough,’ said Raoul. ‘It is not our concern. We need to get this chaise repaired, and quickly.’

The man lifted his cap and scratched his head.

‘The nearest wheelwright is back the way you came.’

‘I was afraid of that,’ Raoul muttered. ‘Even if we were riding we would be hard pressed to get back there by nightfall. Is there an inn nearby and perhaps a chaise that we might hire?’

The man spread his hands and shrugged. ‘Monsieur, I am desolated, but I have only a tumbril. The nearest inn is back in the town.’ He brightened. ‘But all is not lost. I can provide you with shelter for the night.’

Cassie looked to Raoul, but he had gone to help the postilion free the horses from the overturned chaise. Only when they were securely tethered to a tree did he return. The postilion was beside him and it was clear they had been considering the situation.

‘I think the best thing is for the post boy to take my horse and ride back to the town,’ said Raoul. ‘Tomorrow he can bring a new wheel and help to repair the chaise. In the meantime we need to stable the carriage horses.’

‘Well, the stables were burned out some years ago, but you can put them in the barn,’ replied the farmer genially. ‘And in the morning I have a team of oxen that we might use to pull the carriage out of the ditch. For a price, of course.’

‘Yes, well, we will come to that once the postilion has returned.’

Raoul issued a few brief instructions and the post boy scrambled up on to the bay. Cassie watched him trot away and turned back to where Raoul and the farmer were discussing the next problem.

‘We require a room for the night. You say you can accommodate us, how much will you charge?’

‘Ah, monsieur, my own house is small and my wife’s aged mother is bedridden, so I have no bedchamber I can offer for you. But do not despair, you and your lady are welcome to sleep in the barn.’

‘The barn!’ exclaimed Cassie.

‘But, yes, madame. It is a very good barn. The roof is sound and there is plenty of room for you and the horses. The animals keep it warm and there is plenty of clean straw.’

An indignant protest rose to Cassie’s lips, but Raoul put a warning hand on her shoulder.

‘Let us get the horses into shelter first,’ he said. ‘Then we will discuss our accommodation.’

Silently Cassie accompanied the two men as they led the horses off the road and through the gap in the hedge into the remains of the chateau’s formal gardens. The wide gravelled paths were so overgrown with weeds they were difficult to discern from the flowerbeds, and what had once been parterres and manicured lawns were now grazed by cattle. As they approached the house itself she could see it was in a very sorry state, the stucco was peeling, tiles had shifted on the roof and weeds flourished on the surrounding terrace. Cassie could not help exclaiming at the sight.

‘How sad to see such a fine house in ruins.’

‘There are many such places in France now, madame.’ The farmer grinned at her. ‘But it is empty and you are free to sleep there, if it’s more to your taste than my barn over there.’

The farmer indicated a collection of large buildings set back and to one side of the main house. Cassie guessed they had once been outhouses and servants’ quarters. What looked like the stable block was no more than a burned-out shell, but the other buildings and a small house beside it were now the farmer’s domain. He led the way to one of the large barns. The sweet smell of straw was overlaid with the stronger tang of cattle. Cassie quickly pulled out her handkerchief and held it over her nose. It did not surprise her that the carriage horses objected to being led inside, but with a little persuasion and encouragement from Raoul they were eventually stabled securely at one end of the great building, as far away as possible from the farmer’s oxen.

‘You see,’ declared their host, looking about him proudly, ‘there is plenty of room. So where would you like to sleep, here or in yonder palace?’

Cassie sent Raoul a beseeching look and prayed he would understand her.

Raoul grinned. ‘We’ll bed down in the chateau, my friend.’ He winked and gave the farmer’s arm a playful punch. ‘My wife has always considered herself a fine lady.’

The man shrugged. ‘It will cost you the same.’ He added, as Raoul counted out the money on to his palm, ‘You’ll find it pretty bare, monsieur, but ’tis weatherproof, mostly. I’ll bring your dinner in an hour, as well as candles and clean straw for your bed.’