some sense into the foolish woman!’
Guy repressed a grin. ‘Well, in that case you’d better travel with me! I’m for Woodallan, and you can break your journey there before travelling to Blanchland on the morrow.’
‘Thank you!’ Greville seemed to be recovering his good humour. The tense lines on his face eased a little. ‘And what of your own plans, Guy? Thought you were touched in the attic when you said that about marrying Miss Sheridan!’
Guy shifted a little. ‘Couldn’t leave Miss Sheridan as the only one with a stain on her reputation, could I, Grev? That odious woman would rip her to shreds!’
‘But will you keep your word?’ Greville pressed. ‘If not, Miss Sheridan will be thrown to the wolves anyway!’
‘I suppose I’m honour bound to try to persuade her…’ Guy gave his friend a lopsided grin. ‘You may count this as your fault, for telling me to examine my feelings! Truth is, I’d offer for Sarah like a shot if I thought she’d have me, but I doubt she’ll even consider it. Too much to forgive, I suppose! Devil take it, how have I managed to make such a confounded mess of things in such a short space of time?’
Greville laughed. ‘Cupid’s arrow, old chap! Strikes when and where, at will! And it seems to me that, of the two of us, you have the harder task!’
‘Amelia, you know this will not serve! Instead of saving my reputation, you are only ruining your own! Why, both of us will be tarred with the same brush!’
Sarah and her cousin had been arguing all the way from Brock Street to Combe Hay. The beauty of the winter countryside had been ignored and the discomfort of the twisting road scarcely noticed as Sarah desperately tried to persuade Amelia to change her mind. The irony of the situation was not lost on her. Amelia had spent considerable time and effort in trying to persuade her to abandon the trip to Blanchland, yet here she was sitting in Amelia’s carriage with Amelia’s servants in attendance and Amelia herself beside her. And her cousin was adamant.
‘I am a respectable widow whose good reputation can only help to protect you, dearest Sarah. Since it seems you are determined to go through with this mad plan, I feel it my duty to accompany you and save you from yourself!’
‘You are very noble,’ Sarah said, uncertain whether to laugh or cry, ‘but pray do not make this sacrifice on my account! You have told me yourself that Blanchland is the most licentious house in the kingdom—you must know that even your good name will not be able to withstand the scandal! Oh, Amelia, pray do not go through with this!’
Amelia turned her dark gaze on her cousin. ‘You have not told me why this visit is so important to you, Sarah, but I have to believe that it is of great consequence. If it matters so much to you that you are prepared to risk your reputation on it, I am prepared to do the same to help you. There! We shall have no more arguments!’ She turned her shoulder and looked out of the window.
Sarah gave a sigh of exasperation. She could not deny that it was pleasant to have company on the journey and it was infinitely more comfortable to travel privately than on the public stage. But those were small benefits in comparison to the damage that this escapade would cause. No doubt the whole of Bath society would already have heard what had happened, and how could either of them ever show their faces there again? It was melancholy to think of Amelia being ostracised for an act of misplaced kindness.
Sarah looked at Amelia’s determined profile. She felt a strong sense of guilt that she had not confided her quest in her cousin, but something made her hesitate. Time enough for that when Miss Meredith had been found and the mystery solved. At least arguing with Amelia had distracted her from melancholy thoughts about Guy.
They stopped for luncheon and to change the horses at the inn at Clandown, and Amelia confidently predicted that they would reach Blanchland by late afternoon, for the roads were good for the time of year. Sarah started to feel very nervous. How would she find her home after all these years? And how would Ralph react to their unexpected arrival? She barely knew her father’s cousin; though she bore him no ill will for inheriting her home after Frank’s death, she could hardly bear to think what he had done to it.
The journey progressed uneventfully until they neared the Old Down crossroads, where a sudden downpour took them by surprise and set the road awash. Within moments the horses had lost their footing and the carriage lurched off the road and into the ditch.
‘No harm done, ma’am,’ the coachman reported cheerfully as he helped Amelia and Sarah down on to the road, ‘but it might be better if you took shelter in the inn whilst we haul it out. A nice dish of tea should help you over the shock!’
The Old Down Inn was accustomed to passing trade and soon put a private parlour at the disposal of its unexpected guests. Amelia regarded her dripping figure with deep displeasure, whilst outside the rain splattered against the window and emphasised the sudden decline in the good weather.
‘Oh, I look hideous,’ Amelia declared, wringing water from her cloak into a bucket helpfully provided by the landlady. ‘This bonnet is quite ruined, and I have only worn it twice! A fine pair of figures we will cut, arriving at Blanchland in such a state!’
She glanced critically over Sarah, whose hair was drying in corkscrew curls about her face. ‘Humph! Well, at least you look the part, Sarah, with your wild hair and soaking dress! Oh, this is too bad!’
‘Thank you,’ Sarah said drily. ‘It is comforting to know that I already look like a demi-rep and I have not even set foot in the house yet! Do you care for tea and cakes, Milly? It might improve your temper!’
Amelia looked rueful. ‘I’m sorry, Sarah, I know I am like a bear with a sore head! Truth to tell, I was feeling nervous before, but now I just feel downright unpresentable! Oh, to arrive in so undignified a state when we do not even know what we will find…’ She took a cup of tea and moved over to the window. ‘I had better not sit down or I shall cause a puddle! I wonder when this storm will cease—’ She broke off with an exclamation and Sarah looked up from the fire, which she had been trying to coax into reluctant life with the poker.
‘Whatever is the matter, Milly? You look as though you have seen a ghost!’
‘It is Greville!’ Amelia whispered, looking as though she was about to rush from the room. ‘Greville and Lord Renshaw! Sarah, they are here!’
Sarah felt her heart leap into her throat. ‘Oh, no, it cannot be! You must be mistaken, Milly!’
‘I tell you, they were right outside the window—’
Amelia broke off at the sound of voices in the passageway outside. The parlour door opened.
‘Good afternoon!’ Greville Baynham said affably, as though he were meeting them in Milsom Street. ‘An inclement day! I am glad to see that you appear to have suffered no injury when your coach left the road!’
Neither Sarah nor her cousin were up to answering him in kind. Sarah met Guy Renshaw’s quizzical gaze, blushed crimson and looked hastily away. As he came towards her, she backed away from the fire, still holding the poker, and took refuge behind the parlour table. Amelia, obviously viewing attack as the best form of defence, burst into speech.
‘You!’ she said, in tones of ringing outrage. ‘Whatever are you doing here, Sir Greville?’
‘Came to find you,’ Greville said imperturbably. He crossed to the fire and kicked it into a blaze, warming his hands.
