was certain their host had added extra to the bill for himself, because his charge of two guineas for the doctor’s visit seemed extortionate to her, but Luke had paid it cheerfully.
‘It was worth treble for the relief he has afforded me,’ Luke said. ‘I am still in pain, but it is bearable now.’
‘I am glad to hear it.’ Roxanne was thoughtful. If Luke Clarendon was capable of travelling alone now, she ought to leave him and make her own way. He had offered her help, but she was uncertain of the price she might be asked to pay.
Sofia had so often warned her to be careful of gentlemen, especially those who smiled and promised her help or a fortune. This man was charming and handsome, but she did not quite trust him.
Well, he might attempt seduction, but she did not believe he would force her—the way Black Bob would have had she stayed with the travelling players. Luke Clarendon was a gentleman, after all.
Roxanne knew that his warnings were valid. If she became an actress, she would be offered protection by various men—perhaps the manager of the theatre himself or gentlemen who came to watch her perform. If she gained admirers, she might follow in Sofia’s footsteps and become the mistress of an aristocrat or even royalty. It was not what Sofia had wanted for her or what she planned for herself, but it might be impossible to avoid some such relationship.
Why not a man she had already begun to like?
The thought had wormed its way into her mind against her will. Roxanne did not wish to become any man’s mistress, but if it was inevitable— Her thoughts were interrupted as Luke glanced at her.
‘You look pensive, tired. Why do you not lean your head back against the squabs and sleep for a while? I think we may trust Harold. Relax your guard and rest.’
‘Yes, perhaps I shall.’
Roxanne leaned her head back against the squabs, closing her eyes. When Luke Clarendon looked and spoke to her in that way her defences crumbled. He was such an attractive man and she was beginning to like him all too well.
When she woke an hour or so later, the chaise was drawing into the yard of what was clearly a prestigious inn. She discovered that she had been leaning against Luke’s shoulder and apologised, her cheeks warm.
‘Forgive me, sir. I hope I have not made you uncomfortable. Does your leg pain you very much?’
‘It is sore and, yes, a little painful,’ he said. ‘I shall live, Miss Roxanne—and you did not make me uncomfortable at all.’
The groom had brought the chaise to a halt. One of the inn’s employees had come to open the chaise door and let down the step. Seeing that Luke was carrying an injury, his breeches split and opened to allow for the bandages, the man offered his hand, helping him to descend. Luke did so slowly and carefully, his flinch of pain not going unnoticed by either the ostler or Roxanne.
‘I have suffered an accident, as you see, Johnston,’ Luke said with a friendly smile at the man who clearly knew him. ‘If you would have someone care for my horse and ask someone to give this kind fellow something to eat before he goes on his way again. Please help me inside yourself.’
‘Yes, sir, of course,’ Johnston replied and signalled to his minions, who came running and were given curt instructions to see to the horses.
Roxanne frowned as she thanked Harold for bringing them here safely and gave him a shilling of her own money for himself.
‘I’m sorry if you weren’t treated right at the last place,’ he said and pulled his cap. ‘I heard what happened, but I didn’t know until I was told what you did, miss. You were right brave.’
‘I do not think you belong at a place like that, Harold.’
‘No, miss, nor don’t I,’ he agreed. ‘I stayed because it were better than being on the road, but when I take this rig back I shall give me notice and look for work elsewhere.’
‘I am sure you will find it,’ Roxanne said and inclined her head before following Luke into the inn.
When she entered she saw him in close conversation with a man who looked to be the landlord. He was a very different man from the last one they had met; portly and pleasant-faced, he smiled and nodded at her in a friendly way.
‘This gentleman has told me he owes his life to you, miss. I know there’s more than one who should be grateful to you. My wife will take you up to a nice comfortable room and look after you. I dare say you are very tired.’
‘I slept a part of the way here,’ Roxanne replied. She looked at Luke, her fine brows raised. ‘Have you asked our host to fetch a doctor, sir? I think your leg may need further attention—just to make certain it has been properly treated.’
‘Don’t you worry, miss. His lor…his honour is in good hands now.’
Roxanne heard the change in the landlord’s tone and his hasty correction. What had he been going to say? It was clear that Luke Clarendon was well known and respected here—but how was he normally addressed?
She frowned as the landlord’s wife came to greet her, curtsying respectfully. ‘Come this way, miss. We are always glad to have his lordship come to stay—’ She clapped her hand to her forehead. ‘There, if Sid didn’t tell me I was to call Lord Clarendon his honour. My tongue runs away with me, so it does—but everyone knows who he is so why not say it openly?’
‘Why not indeed?’
Roxanne felt her cheeks getting warmer. What a fool she was not to have made sure of her facts for a start. He had told her his name was Luke Clarendon and she had assumed his title was plain Mister. He must have been laughing at her behind his hand.
Luke Clarendon was an aristocrat and therefore not to be trusted. Sofia had told her that they were the worst of all and warned her never to lose her heart to a member of the upper classes. ‘If you do, he will use you and then abandon you. Take notice, child, for I know of what I speak.’
Roxanne felt her stomach knot with a mixture of anger and disappointment. For a short time she had begun to think that perhaps Luke really liked her—so why had he not told her he had a title from the start?
He had pretended to trust her, but he hadn’t trusted her enough to tell her who he really was. She felt the sting of tears, but blocked them out. There was no sense in crying. She didn’t know Lord Clarendon at all and, after listening to Sofia’s opinion of the aristocracy for years, she was sure she did not wish to. Her friend had warned her that they were all the same: proud, arrogant and ruthless.
‘They know how to be charming and they will smile and tell you they adore you, but underneath they are cold and heartless. They will not marry out of their class—and they toss you to one side when they are finished with you. The English aristocracy are the worst. Some foreign royalty are kinder and more generous. Never trust an English gentleman, Roxanne—particularly if he tells you he will always love you. Just take what you can from him and move on before he does.’
Roxanne kept her anger in check as she followed the innkeeper’s wife along a hall and into a room. It was large and comfortable, well furnished and, with a fire burning in the grate, warm.
‘This is next to his lordship’s chamber,’ she said. ‘He always has the same one when
