Queen of the May by Emily Hendrickson

Author:Emily Hendrickson [Hendrickson, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Regency Romance
Publisher: Belgrave House
Published: 1989-01-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

The door creaked open and a lanthorn shattered the dark with its light. A figure stepped inside, then held the lamp up so his face was seen. He seemed taken aback to discover who was in the barn before him.

Laverstock dropped his hand from Lady Samantha’s mouth and she sagged with relief. Charles remained alert and did not step away from her, desiring to offer her protection if needed. There seemed something decidedly odd about Twistleton’s showing up at this time of night.

“ ‘Tis but Percival,” said a very relieved Samantha. She stifled her desire to scold Laverstock for silencing her in such a rough manner. His rock-solid presence had been most comforting, she reluctantly confessed to herself.

“I say, you two, what is going on? I chanced to look out my window—couldn’t sleep, you know—and saw a light down here. Curious, couldn’t fathom what might be doing. This is a deuced odd place to hold a tryst, Laverstock.” The look he cast at Lord Laverstock was anything but friendly.

Drawing further away from her foe-turned-guardian, Samantha shook her head at the family friend. “It is not as you might think, Percival. I am not here for a tryst with Lord Laverstock. Indeed, I had no notion he might appear. Took me quite by surprise.” She absently rubbed that sore portion of her anatomy, darting a black look at his elegant lordship before casting a searching gaze at the dandy.

Percival strolled closer to the pair, both of whom looked remarkably guilty of something. “Good thing I ain’t given to blackmail. I guess there might be a few souls amused by this scene.” His eyes narrowed, perhaps in mirth, and then again, perhaps in speculation.

Samantha considered that peculiar smile. She thought she was acquainted with all of Percy’s odd starts, but that smile and his expression were new.

Not desiring to reveal his concern, Charles shrugged, stepped away from Samantha, and sauntered toward the door, guiding Percival along with him. “Not really, old boy.” Over his shoulder he tossed a word to her. “Be a love and put out the lanthorn when you come along, will you Samantha? And do not forget to lock up behind you.” He dared not look behind him. The dagger-drawn look sent his way would undoubtedly be bone-chilling.

Sam watched the two men leave the bam with mixed emotions. Rather than spitting angry—which she had a right to be, mind you—she was extremely thoughtful. How Lord Laverstock would talk his way out of this predicament, she didn’t know, but she was certain he would. No, she had something quite different on her mind. Something she must mull over, and hope to discuss with Lord Laverstock in the morning.

Gathering up the book and handkerchief, she lit her small candle, put out the lanthorn and hung it up on its nail, then exited the barn, locking the door tightly behind her. The night seemed darker, chillier than before. How she missed the comfort of Lord Laverstock—only as another person, she assured herself.

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