Ruined Reputations by Lela Bay

Author:Lela Bay [Bay, Lela]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2018-03-02T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

The two ladies settled in for a ride along the bumpy road in Eleanor’s coach. Bitsy became a bright and cheerful companion, as if they had never argued. Mr. Stinson led his mount past them, decked in tailored riding coat and breeches.

Despite Bitsy’s declaration that he was positively stuffy, she took more than a second glance as he rode his mount before them and raced off.

Recalled from her own wool gathering by Bitsy’s bosomy sigh, Eleanor gave the girl a swift thump with her fan. She didn’t need new problems to replace old ones. She had enough of those facing her.

Inclement weather appeared on the horizon, and clouds created a gauzy bandage across bruised gray sky. They had started late, and Eleanor worried they might be driving in the dark inside the approaching storm.

She had not seen Mr. Stinson for hours. How far ahead had he ridden?

Thunder cracked and fat rain drops tapped against the top of the carriage. Her driver turned toward a roadside inn and halted.

Eleanor pushed open the carriage door, surprised when her gloved hand was snatched up in a warm hold. Chocolate brown eyes met her blue ones.

“Are we staying?” she asked, breathlessly.

Mr. Stinson’s teeth gleamed in the fading light while wind from the storm tore at his spotless cravat and mussed his hair with no real chance of damaging his appeal. “I signaled your driver. It’s dangerous ahead. I have had a meal prepared so we might pass the night in comfort.”

He squeezed her hand. Electricity shot through her. Surprised and flattered, her mouth formed a small O.

Regretful that they would part, her fingertips slid across his palm in a sensual caress. She bit her lip, aghast she’d been so forward.

Prickles crept up the back of Eleanor’s neck where the small hairs coiled. She pulled out her fan, but the wind whipped it from her grasp. It dangled by her wrist strap. Why did she have to act foolish like a young girl? At least, she assumed this was how they felt. She’d never had the opportunity for butterflies and awkward hand-holding.

Eleanor stepped aside, her feet firmly on the ground, to avoid Mr. Stinson.

After a hesitation, he turned to assist Bitsy, who cooed over their possible desserts.

Gathering the girl to her, she sailed inside the tidy whitewashed building, wishing she had insisted they continue on. Though the inn might look like safe harbor, she knew all too well that shady dealings could happen on the road. Bitsy’s near-miss was proof of that. However, Mr. Stinson had an impeccable reputation.

They can’t all be rapscallions, she reasoned, cursing the suspicions that continued to plague her. Judging a man by his sinful good looks, or a vague mischievousness glimpsed in passing, said more about her character than his.

Driven inside by the same terrible weather, an older woman in a jeweled turban stood beside a young man, who held the thin red leash of a small dog.

Before the frozen trio could consider retreating, the lady turned a cold eye on them, narrowing instantly.

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