Page 22 of A Much Maligned Miss

She nodded and the door creaked open as Mrs. Dawkins appeared carrying a tray. “Good morning, milord, milady,” she greeted them heartily. “You’re looking a good deal better this morning, I’m glad to say, your ladyship. You’ve got a nice bit of color in those cheeks,” she said with satisfaction. “Eh, you did look a poorly thing last night and no mistake!”

“I am feeling so much better this morning,” Caroline assured her. “Thanks to your solicitude. The ginger tea was excellent and really settled my—er—stomach.” She glanced apologetically at Gervaise while speaking of such matters at the breakfast table. He shrugged and carried on tucking into his ham and eggs.

Mrs. Dawkins beamed. “There now, I told his lordship it would set you to rights, is that not so, milord?”

“You did indeed,” Gervaise corroborated.

“What have you there?” Caroline asked, peering with interest at the contents of the woman’s tray. Gervaise could already tell from the sour smell pervading his nostrils.

“’Tis vinegar rags. For your journey today, to stave off the sickness,” Mrs. Dawkins informed her promptly.

“How very kind!” Caroline responded at once, despite the fact Gervaise was pretty sure she did not suffer from travel sickness at all. No, Caroline had been dealing with the aftereffects of being drugged. Still, she could hardly inform the kindly landlady as much.

He considered her anew as she sat talking in an animated fashion to Mrs. Dawkins. Already, the distance from Penarth seemed to be doing her good. She was less insipid, somehow, less stifled. His godson, of course, had always asserted that Miss Halperston was good company, once away from her mama. Perhaps Teddy had been right all along.

After breakfast they donned their outdoor things and watched their luggage being loaded back onto the coach. Their fellow traveler from before was absent this morning. Presumably Exeter had been his final destination. Instead, there now appeared a proper-looking mother and daughter bound for Bath.

Gervaise winced faintly at the sight of them. No chance of bribing them into taking a rooftop seat, he thought regretfully, seeing the mother take the postal officer aside. After a moment the officer approached him, clearing his throat.

“Excuse me, milord,” he said awkwardly. “Mrs. Hawtree has asked that an introduction be performed before you are to be confined in such close proximity with one another for the next few hours. I hope you will not consider this an imposition?”

“I do rather,” he answered truthfully. “However, far be it from me to cause any discomfort.”

“You are very good, milord,” the man said gratefully, casting a furtive look in the lady’s direction. Gervaise guessed the woman was something of a dragon. Introductions were performed all round, and they duly climbed into the carriage.

“Forgive me, my lord,” Mrs. Hawtree said with a thin-lipped smile once they were all settled into their seats. “I could not quite discern your relationship to Miss Pomfrey. You are her…?”

“I am her cousin, madam,” he replied briskly. “Her cousin, and for the length of this journey at least, her guardian.”

“I see.” She nodded, plainly pleased to have clarification. Gervaise suspected she would soon be touting it all around Bath that she had shared a carriage with Lord Atherton and his cousin. Fortunately, no one of consequence would be in Bath at this time of year.

Miss Chloe Hawtree was looking Caroline up and down. Plainly, she did not think much of her sober traveling ensemble. She sniffed and tossed her ringleted head before turning to Gervaise. “We are going to stay with our cousins the Staversons in Rillington Street. Perhaps you have heard of them, my lord?”

“No,” he replied succinctly. He had never even heard of Rillington Street, let alone any Staversons. He felt Caroline poke him in his side. “But then, I rarely stay in Bath,” he added by way of consolation.

“We are bound for London,” Caroline said brightly.

“You are going for the London season!” Chloe gasped. “You lucky thing.”

“Not at all,” Gervaise interjected firmly. “Penthesilia has long used up her London seasons I’m afraid and willfully squandered them.” Caroline blinked at the unexpected criticism. “You disagree, cousin?” he asked challengingly. “If you had not, you would surely be married by now at six and twenty.”

“You are not married, cousin!” she pointed out. “Your own life appears to be a never-ending round of house parties. You must surely be thirty by now.”

“I am twenty-nine,” he corrected her. “And in any case, everyone knows it is altogether different for gentlemen. Is that not so, Mrs. Hawtree?”

Mother and daughter were now watching them avidly. Mrs. Hawtree with gathering disapproval and Miss Chloe with open envy. The woman cleared her throat. “Quite different!” she agreed heavily.

“Yet you will acknowledge, Mrs. Hawtree, that it is high time that my cousin here took a wife?” Caroline appealed. “It is his duty in fact and incumbent upon his position in life.”

Mrs. Hawtree shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Well, I hardly like to say!”

“I beg you will not lend her your support in this matter, Mrs. Hawtree,” Gervaise interrupted. “In fact, and it pains me to say this, but we should keep our interactions to a minimum for the duration of this journey. I am sorry to say that my cousin is not at all a proper person for your daughter to associate with. She has formed a most unfortunate connection with a member of the militia and refuses to renounce the acquaintance.”

He eyed Caroline sidelong and watched her expression of indignation form. “I—” she began hotly.

“Do you deny your clandestine correspondence with one Captain Gerrard?”

“Certainly not!” she responded with spirit. “My heart belongs wholly to Captain Gerrard. And what’s more I fully intend to marry the man!”