Felicia Read online

  Felicia awoke to the frightened screams of the old woman and, as she turned her horrified gaze outside, she felt the coach roll alarmingly before crashing over onto the dirt road

  The outside passengers were able to scramble to safety, but Felicia and the old woman were trapped. As the coach came to rest, Felicia was flung out of her seat. She landed head first on the opposite side, which had suddenly become the floor of the overturned coach. As she fell, her head struck the wooden door frame, and she felt a sharp pain. Then blackness swept over her.

  Clasping her walking stick firmly in one hand, the old woman started to pound on the door that was not wedged shut against the ground. The coachman was unharmed but the enormity of his carelessness and stupidity had shocked him into immobility. The frightened horses were still bucking in the shafts. The five outside passengers were of no help, for they were still picking themselves up. So it was the gentleman from the curricle and his tiger who took over the task of calming the horses; and it was the gentleman himself who responded to the cries for help coming from within the coach.

  “Just a moment,” he called in a well-modulated voice, gingerly picking his way through the debris.

  “Help me out, young man,” the old woman commanded angrily. “I do not know what the world is coming to. If it’s not highwaymen one has to contend with on the road, then it’s drunken coachmen.”

  Climbing up on the coach, the gentleman pushed open the heavy wooden door and peered into the dim interior. The old woman’s rantings received only scant attention, but he was startled out of his languor by the beauty that lay insensible beside her.

  “Well, come on,” the old woman screeched. “Get me out of here before I lay this across your back.” She shook her walking stick at him.

  The gentleman bowed slightly with an air suggesting that this was all too boring for words. “Forgive me, ma’am,” he said with a bemused smile. In all his seven and twenty years no one had ever addressed him quite so rudely. “I was thinking how we could remove your daughter without adding to the damage already done to her.”

  “That trollop is not my daughter,” the old woman snapped. “So don’t worry your head too much about her.” She sniffed condescendingly. “By the looks of her, she is some serving wench, though Lord knows how she can afford to travel in such luxury. No doubt she’s no better than she should be.”

  Amused, the gentleman raised an eyebrow at the venom in her voice and wondered if perchance the harridan’s vitriol was motivated by a twinge of jealousy. Completely disregarding his elegantly tailored clothes, he lay down on his belly, across the side of the coach.

  “Are you ready, madam?” he asked.

  He was just about to reach in, when Jason Hobbs came over.

  “Can I help, sir?” the thin young man inquired fawningly.

  “Indeed you can,” the gentleman answered. “While I hoist the old dragon out, you can hold onto my feet.” The old woman stiffened at these words.

  “What are you waiting for?” she demanded loudly, waving her arms in annoyance. “Get me out of here immediately.”

  The gentleman ignored her command as he continued his conversation with Jason. “And then there’s a young girl inside who appears to have a concussion. If you could relieve my tiger,” he nodded in the direction of the man who was holding the horses, “he can help me get her out.”

  “Right you are, sir,” said Jason, smacking his lips lecherously and slapping the gentleman on the back, to the latter’s enormous surprise. “But I can help you with her. No problem there.” The thought of laying hands on such a lovely piece of womanhood stirred his blood, all the more because of his recent unsuccessful advances. “I’ll be only too delighted.”

  “Do you know her, then?” the gentleman asked noting the intimate tone in which Jason spoke of the girl.

  “Never clapped eyes on her afore—until Chepstow that is. But I have it for certain she’s a right little goer,” Jason confided maliciously, his bulbous nose quivering. He had half-convinced himself of the truth of his allegations.

  The gentleman, annoyed by Jason’s quivering nose and presumptuous bonhomie, turned his attention to the irate squawks coming from the old lady. “All right, madam,” he said briskly. “Are you ready now?” He reached into the coach and then clasped his arms around the old woman. “Push with your feet now,” he commanded, and with great ease lifted her out.

  Looking like an ill-tempered monkey, she blinked in the sunlight and then emitted a shriek of outrage when the gentleman unceremoniously set her down on the side of the coach, with her capuchin and petticoats all in a tangle around her bony shins.

  “I will crawl into the coach and see how the young lady does,” the gentleman said, leaving Jason to help the old woman down off the coach. The gentleman was determined not to let Jason aid in the rescue of the young girl, for he had taken exception to his excessive familiarity, and what better way to put the lout in his place than by casually thwarting his obvious lust for the girl. (Not that he faulted him for his desire—indeed, she was of unsurpassing beauty—but the gentleman felt that discretion was the better part of desire.)

  “If you can ask the coachman to take hold of his horses, I would prefer the help of my tiger,” the gentleman continued, in rather preemptory tones.

  Jason was visibly disappointed at the request, but he reluctantly helped the old woman down and set her on the ground before badgering the coachman into action. Within minutes, the nimble tiger was cheerfully scrambling up the side of the coach.

  “Yer wanted me ter ’elp yer, m’lord?” he asked, peering down into the darkness.

  “Ah! Timothy. Just the person I wanted. Do we, perchance, have a blanket in the curricle?”

  “Aye,” the tiger answered. “I’ll go and fetch it right away. ’Ow do you plan on getting ’er up, Guv? Don’t look as though she ’as moved.” His eyes had adjusted to the dimness, and he could make out the forlorn figure of the girl.

  “I’ll secure the blanket about her, Timothy, and then we will lift her out.” He paused as he took another look at Felicia. “Then I think we’ll take her with us to Alverston, for I do not trust the motives of some of the passengers. She will be far safer there, and I know Dr. Ross is in residence. He’ll be able to tend her.” And, he thought to himself, she may well want to thank me for my kindness in saving her from her fellow passenger. He smiled to himself at the thought. She would make a nice interlude. “How is the coachman?” he continued.

  “I reckon ’e’s sobered up a bit now, but ’e’s still shaky on ’is pins. I pity the passengers,” the tiger added, “for it don’t look like ’e’s going to get ’elp in a ’urry.”

  “All the more reason to take the damsel with us, Timothy,” the gentleman said. “I feel sure she is in immediate need of attention. Make certain you get her luggage before we go.”

  “Very good, m’lord,” the tiger grinned. “I’ll just go and get that blanket.”

  Jason watched anxiously as the two strangers lifted Felicia out of the coach, and he laid his coat on the ground as a pillow for her head. He was hoping they would be on their way once they had accomplished their task, for he wanted nothing more than to have Felicia to himself when she regained consciousness. He would present himself as her rescuer…she would be so grateful….

  The gentleman had been surprised by Felicia’s frailty as he had wrapped her in the blanket. Her face was classically beautiful, and except for her drab clothes and worn hands which clearly indicated she was from the serving classes, he would have thought her a lady.

  He laid her on the ground gently and then stood back and surveyed the other passengers. The old woman’s lamentations were commanding the attention of everyone except Jason. He was hovering over the prone body of Felicia, leering at her suggestively.

  He looked up at the gentleman. “My name is Hobbs, sir, Jason Hobbs,” he said obsequiously.

  The gentleman tipped his hat. Choosing one of his lesser titles, he answered, “Sir I
an Gordon.”

  “Well, thank you, sir,” Jason said, only slightly taken aback, “for getting this pretty little miss out so quickly. Now, if only we can get the coachman to go for help, we will be all right.”

  Sir Ian looked at him with a disdain that belied his civil words and flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his corded sleeve. Increasingly he objected to the smirk that appeared on the man’s face every time he looked at Felicia.

  “I would not rely on that one to do anything,” he said haughtily. “He will be pleased to know, though, that I intend relieving him of his greatest problem.” He looked down at Felicia. “I will take this young lady with me.”

  Mr. Hobbs’s bulbous nose reddened in frustration, and Sir Ian was reminded of a clown he had seen in Italy once—the whitened face and the nose painted crimson. Sir Ian smiled briefly to himself. Whatever his faults, he was honest, and he admitted to himself he was having a deuced good time putting this presumptuous lout in his place while making off with a gorgeous prize.

  “But you cannot do that,” Mr. Hobbs said angrily. “You do not even know the girl.”

  “Immaterial,” Sir Ian said, with an airy wave of a gloved hand. “And as I can insure that she will get medical treatment immediately, I am certain she will be grateful for my help.”

  No longer obsequious, Jason glared at Sir Ian. “You gentry are all the same. Always think you know what’s best for everyone.”

  “Enough of your ravings, young man,” Sir Gordon said lightly. He signaled to Timothy. “Bring the curricle over, and let’s get the lady on board.”

  The old woman looked over as she heard this command and started to complain loudly. “I told you,” she said angrily to anyone who would listen. “Didn’t I? He’s only interested in the girl. He don’t care one bit that I probably have a lasting injury.” She clutched her side as though in pain. “Oh!” she moaned, “I hurt so badly, especially here.” Her moans turned to loud yelps as she realized that no one was listening.

  “Be it safe to move ’er, sir?” one man asked. His ruddy complexion and stocky build indicated that he was a farmer. “I mean, she ain’t even moved a whisker.”

  Sir Ian was beginning to wish he had not involved himself in the whole affair. Nothing took the savor out of an escapade like complications.

  “In the circumstances, I think it is the wisest thing to do,” he said loftily. “It appears to me that the young lady has sustained a severe concussion, and when she comes round she will not appreciate finding herself stretched out on the highway.”

  Silenced by Sir Ian’s air of having delivered a pronouncement of irreproachable logic, the, group fell back and formed a path for Timothy who was approaching in the curricle. Sir Ian lifted Felicia in his arms and carefully placed her on the seat, then swung himself up and sat down beside her and placed one arm around her. Timothy handed him the reins and within seconds they had left the scene of the wrecked coach.

  Sir Ian grinned ruefully. “I hope this sweet young thing appreciates what I have saved her from,” he remarked. “A week with me is bound to be better than a lifetime with Mr. Jason Hobbs.”

  Timothy grinned knowingly. “A day, more like, Guv,” he said cheekily. “Not a bad bit o’ muslin, is she? Dressed up in a bit o’ finery, and I reckon she’ll look bonny.”

  “The trunk, Timothy,” Sir Ian exclaimed. “We forgot her trunk!”

  “Just as well, if you don’t mind me saying so,” Timothy responded. “By the looks of what she’s wearing, t’other clothes won’t be worth much.”

  Sir Ian nodded. “You are quite right, Timothy. It’s certainly not worth returning to the coach to retrieve them.” He chuckled to himself as he thought of the old woman’s squawkings. “And I do not think I can face any more complaints.”

  Timothy laughed. “That ole lady would ’ave like to run you through with ’er cane, she would. Anyways, it gives ’er sommat to talk about to ’er friends.”

  Felicia started to slip in her seat as Sir Ian took a bend a little too fast. “Steady her, Timothy,” he commanded. “I would hate for her to take another tumble before she recovers from the first.”

  Timothy leaned over and put his arms around Felicia’s shoulders. He looked down and saw an ugly gash on her right temple. “Better spring the horses, Guv’,” he said gruffly, “to the nearest village. I reckon a doctor ought to take a look at this cut. And ’twill be best to get ’er into a bed fast.”

  Sir Ian glanced down at Felicia. “In that case, I will continue with my original plans.”

  “What, visit your mother?” Timothy gasped.

  “Indeed,” Sir Ian said airily. “Dr. Ross is staying there for a few days, and if this young lady has any lasting injury to her brain because of the crash, he is the one doctor in England who can help.”

  “But won’t the dowager be insulted when she finds out that she ’as been asked to entertain one of your ladies?” Timothy asked nervously.

  “If she knew, maybe she would,” Sir Ian laughed, a devilish look in his blue eyes. “But as you and I are the only ones who know of my plans, I think we can get away with it this once.”

  Two

  Felicia opened her eyes and found herself staring into the unfamiliar face of a severe-looking gentleman who was bending over her. A deep frown drew his thick eyebrows together, making him look older than his twenty-eight years. She let out a frightened gasp and instinctively pulled the bedclothes up around her chin.

  “Who…who…are you?” she asked warily.

  The man straightened up, and his concerned expression vanished. He was pleased to see that Felicia’s movements in bed were quite normal and not painful, for he had been uncertain whether or not she had sustained any fracture to her ribs.

  “There, there,” he soothed. “I am a doctor. You have been in an accident and have suffered a mild concussion.” He patted her hand reassuringly, then continued as he saw her expression of dismay. “Don’t worry, miss. Don’t worry, for we will soon have you on your feet.”

  Felicia’s feeling of dismay turned to bewilderment when she raised her hand to her head and her fingers encountered a bandage.

  “Accident?” she queried feebly. “I do not seem to remember.” She stared intently at the doctor’s face for some sign of comfort. She struggled to think about what had happened, but her mind remained stubbornly blank, and she could not prevent the tears from rolling down her cheeks.

  “There is no need to be frightened, my dear,” the doctor said softly. “You are quite safe now.”

  “But you do not seem to understand,” Felicia broke in, her voice trembling. “I cannot remember who I am.” She shook her head as though to clear it and winced as a sharp pain stabbed behind her eye. She saw a gleam of interest light the doctor’s face. Not understanding, she felt a panic deep within her. “What am I going to do?” she cried out.

  Oblivious to her appeal, the doctor scrutinized her carefully. “That is very interesting,” he murmured, “very interesting. You are fortunate, young lady, that I am here to tend you.” He paused, as though conscious of his own importance. “Dr. Ross is my name. Dr. Paul Ross.” He rocked slowly back and forth from his heels to his toes, his fingers tucked into the lapels of his ill-fitting old-fashioned jacket.

  Felicia struggled to control her sobs. The doctor’s voice was reassuring. “But…but…I do not understand what has happened to me,” she whispered.

  “Nothing that rest and a little treatment won’t cure,” Dr. Ross responded in kindly tones. “The stagecoach you were in crashed, and you were thrown about a bit. Must have hit your head on something sharp, for you have a nasty cut over your eye.”

  Felicia shook her head slowly and said with a slight shrug, “I do not recall anything. Who…who am I?”

  “That is an easy one,” Dr. Ross smiled. “See here, I found this letter in your reticule. It is a letter of introduction to a Mrs. Barton, in Manchester.” He paused to see if there was any response to the name, then continued when
Felicia shook her head. “And it seems that you are Felicia Richards, on your way to being governess to Mrs. Barton’s two children.”

  “How strange that sounds,” Felicia said with misgiving. “It means absolutely nothing to me. Oh! Dr. Ross, whatever am I going to do? I do not even know where I am.”

  Dr. Ross looked down at his patient and was impressed with the intelligence he saw in her face. The clear-cut features were a refreshing change from the aging, cantankerous patients he normally had to deal with. There was a freshness and innocence about her that he liked, and he was not immune to her blond loveliness.

  He sat down on an uncomfortable, straight-backed chair that stood by the side of the bed. The sparsely furnished room was typical of a servant’s room.

  Felicia eyed him nervously, not liking the lengthy silence that had developed. “Please, please tell me what happened,” she begged. “And where am I? There must be someone I should thank for helping me.”

  “My dear young lady,” Dr. Ross said thoughtfully. “I will not deny that you are in a peculiar position.” He held up his hand as Felicia started to say something. “No, wait a while for me to explain matters. You are at Alverston, Lord Umber’s country seat.”

  “Lord Umber?” Felicia queried.

  “To be more precise, the Earl of Alverston and Umber.” He paused, allowing Felicia time to absorb this information, but seeing the puzzled expression still on her face he added, “Umber is the senior peerage. Be that as it may, he came upon the scene of the accident moments after it had happened and was responsible for pulling you and your traveling companion to safety.” Dr. Ross smiled briefly to himself. He could well understand Lord Umber’s impulsive offer to help Felicia, for it was well known that he could never resist a pretty face.

  “I was traveling with someone?” Felicia asked hopefully.