Page 38 of A Lady in Name

Dion’s mischievous look dawned. “Yes, we cannot go knocking upon the door of every farmhouse in the county and demanding if they are missing a daughter.”

“No, but what we can do,” said Stefan, dismissing his sister’s attempt at humour, “is to find out the parish clerk and ask him if he knows of any persons named Oake or Oade hereabouts.”

Dion having flatly refused to be left alone at the Half Moon missing all the excitement, upon the following afternoon Lucy found herself uncomfortably squashed between brother and sister in the narrow seat of the curricle. For the first few moments, she viewed with dismay the prospect of careering all over the countryside with her body in such close proximity to Stefan she could feel every motion of muscle in his knee and thigh, and each little movement of his arm where he held the reins.

Lucy had fretted all morning, anxious to be off, all through the delay occasioned by the search for Mr Stagg, the parish clerk. But now she could have wished herself back in the parlour of the inn, so embarrassing was her position. She tried at first to shift so she was tighter with Dion than with Stefan, until the former complained she was being pushed hard up against the rail on the other side.

“I do wish these carriage seats were made wider. I can scarcely breathe!”

“Well, you would come,” her brother stated coolly.

“Oh, I am not truly fussing. I would not have missed it for the world. Only if you will just give me an inch or two, I may at least not have to feel this rail sticking into my ribs.”

Lucy had no alternative but to shift as well as she might, which put her into even closer touch with Stefan’s arm and thigh. At that precise moment, the curricle rounded a bend, and the power of his muscles as he shifted his weight to keep his balance thrust strongly against Lucy’s leg.

A flood of warmth shot down her veins, and she felt the strangest stirring of sensation deep down below her belly. She froze, tensing every part of her body and pressing her legs tightly together as if she would draw them away from the dangerous thigh at her right side. The effect of this was unfortunate. The sensation intensified, and a slow pulsing started up, just as though she had a heartbeat in that highly secret area. Lucy’s breath became short and she had all to do to conceal her condition from Dion. Worse and more urgent, she had to keep Stefan from realising how his nearness affected her in this appalling fashion.

She dared not look anywhere but straight in front, willing her unruly flesh to subside.

“Relax, Lucy!”

Unprepared, she turned her head and met Stefan’s grey gaze head on. His eyes were startlingly close and she could see the lines on his skin delineating the angles and planes of his face.

Horrified to have given herself away, she bit her lip upon the dreadful possibility of blurting out anything that might further compromise her. As she stared at him a slow smile started in his eyes, spreading downwards until his lip curved in the curl of amusement she had seen now and then.

“You look as if you were confronted by a snake.”

She let out a shaky laugh and her tension eased a little. She cleared her throat, trying for a light note. “It is a trifle crowded.”

The grey of his eyes appeared to Lucy’s heightened senses to deepen. “Yes, I had noticed.” Then his gaze went back to the road and Lucy felt oddly released, as if he had been holding her with his eyes. “If you will just relax, you will soon find it more comfortable.”

Lucy doubted it, but did her best to allow the tension in her body to slacken. At the least, there was easement in that untoward area of embarrassment. But the warmth engendered by the feel of Stefan’s knee and thigh against her was intermittently troubling.

To distract herself, Lucy concentrated instead on his arm, the sensation of which was far less disturbing, although she felt every motion. She noted the way he held the reins looped in and out of his fingers, and saw how his whip hand came in to pull on this rein or that as he worked to let the horses know his wishes. She watched for some time in silence, but at length felt compelled to utterance.

“You are so skilled. I had not realised before how difficult a task it must be to control the horses as you do.”

Before Stefan could respond beyond a quick look round, Dion intervened. “Oh, Stefan is a particularly good driver. Papa taught him, and he was a nonpareil. Uncle Beves was shockingly bad. He could not stick to his leaders and he was forever tugging on the reins and ruining his horses’ mouths.”

Stefan laughed. “You know all about it, of course.”

“Well, I do. At least, I know from Papa’s discourse. And he did try to teach me, but I had no aptitude. It is extraordinarily difficult, you know, Lucy, even with one horse, let alone four.”

“I am ready to believe it. Papa had a pony and trap, but I never drove it. I cannot even ride, to tell you the truth.”

“Good gracious, can you not?” Dion leaned across her. “Stefan, you will have to teach her.”

“Oh, no, I am persuaded there can be no necessity,” Lucy uttered hastily, petrified by the thought of the inevitable proximity and having Stefan’s hands upon her. “I cannot imagine I will ever have occasion to ride.” She cast a glance at Stefan as she spoke, and found him wearing that expression she thought of as his enigmatic face.

“I will teach you if you wish it, though I cannot imagine it will result in anything but your own discomfiture and the wreck of my temper.”

Lucy could not help laughing. “Only too likely. I should probably end by striking at you with the horsewhip.”

“In which case, you would earn a thoroughly deserved slapping where it would do most good, so be warned.”

“Stefan!”

Lucy was aware of a considerable degree of heat sweeping through her, which did not entirely originate with sharing Dion’s outrage. She knew Stefan was jesting, but the intimacy of the idea had a most unwelcome effect, putting that uncomfortable pulse into action again. She would naturally resist to the limit of her power any attempt to lay punishing hands upon her person, but the thought of how Stefan would be obliged to seize her, should he try it, had a searing effect on her unruly veins.