Page 25 of Not a Fine Gentleman

“You’re hard to please.”

“I’m certain my husband would agree with you.” Quietly, she added, “Late husband.” Lifting her skirts to her knees, revealing her shapely legs and slender ankles, she plunged her feet into the water.

Connor looked away from the sight. He didn’t care about her shapely legs, or how bravely she bore her difficulties, or how his body came to life when he carried her. She was not for him. He didn’t even like her. She was arrogant and moody and bossy and proud. And quite possibly a murderess.

“What shall I call you? Your Excellency? Your Grace? Your Highness?”

She lifted her chin a degree higher. “No, of course not. Those would be wholly inappropriate ways to address a marchioness.”

He grinned. Either she had missed his teasing or chose to ignore it. As she washed her small feet, the water turned a murky red. It looked truly painful.

To distract her, he said, “Very well then, how about a nickname? Margaret has so many possibilities—Maggie, Margie, Margo, Marge…”

“Good heavens, no.” She shook her head.

He repeated every nickname he’d ever heard for her name. “Peggy, Gretta…”

She smiled faintly, as a wistful expression overcame her. “Father called me Gretta when I was a child—before he started insisting everyone call me Lady Margaret. Rachel and Christian sometimes call me Meg.”

He remembered. He took a second glance at her. “How do you wish me to address you?”

She considered. “I ask the servants simply to refer to me as ‘my lady’ so I don’t have to hear Hennessy’s name every time they address me. But if we wish to travel without people knowing of my title, perhaps your nickname idea is best. Very well, you may call me Meg.”

Was she in earnest? He’d suggested the nickname just to tease her, but she’d agreed. Lady Margaret Hennessy continued to surprise him at every turn.

Meg. A nickname. Such an informal and intimate request.

“Meg,” he murmured, tasting her nickname.

She looked steadily into his eyes a moment before her gaze moved down onto his lips. He focused on hers. His throat thickened, and a space in his chest warmed.

Time to break the moment.

This time in an Irish accent, he drawled, “’Tis a fine thing, Meggy me dear, to be calling you by this new name, it is.”

She lifted a brow, and her lips curved on one side. “Do you often lapse into other accents?”

“When it amuses me.”

She lifted her feet out of the basin and dried them with a towel. “That feels better already.” She lay back on the bed. “I can’t remember when I’ve been so tired.” She tugged at her hair, removing the knot at the back of her head. Absently, she ran her fingers through the long dark strands. They fell in little sections to rest on the sheets. Mesmerized, he watched her, imagining touching her hair, caressing her face, lying next to her….

Ahem. Connor unfolded a map and studied possible routes to get them as quickly to London as possible.

An adolescent boy carried in a hip bath followed by two boys staggering in with buckets full of hot water. “Bathwater, ma’am.”

Margaret—Meg—sat up, her hair tousled and swinging all around her as if she’d just gotten out of bed.

Ahem!

While the boys placed the tub and filled it with water, Connor folded up his map and stepped out to give the lady her privacy.

Voices and wails greeted him as he descended the stairs. At the bottom step, he glanced about the main room. Several passengers from the accident piled into the main room. The innkeeper greeted newcomers and made room assignments. A girl placed drinks on tables to those seated.

Connor sat in a corner and waited for the girl to bring him a drink. A tall man wearing a battered coat strode in and glanced around as if searching for someone. He approached the table nearest the door and pulled out a small object and showed it to the two men seated there. As he spoke to them, they shook their heads. He stopped in front of one of the women from the stagecoach and showed her the same object.

Connor frowned. Hadn’t he seen that same man skulking about right after the carriage accident?

“Aye, I saw her,” one of the women said to the tall man. “She was on the coach with me. She helped me at the accident. I don’t know where she is now.”