Jane relaxed a little. Ivo sounded warm and human when he described his horse, perhaps she was misjudging him.
‘Can you draw horses with any degree of competence?’ he asked.
That truce lasted all of ten seconds!
‘Competently,’ she admitted. ‘Not as well as I draw people.’
‘Then I fear you will receive no commission from me. Percy has been through too much on my behalf to have to make do with mere competence.’ The twist of his mouth was mocking when he added, ‘And you are attracted to painting solely what is glamorous or flashy? Will your subjects only be beautiful women and handsome men? I note you did not wish to paint my portrait until you heard about the uniform.’
‘That is unfair.’ Jane tipped her head to one side and studied him. When she met his quizzical gaze she realised it was the first time she had done so while he was aware of it. ‘You cannot be described as handsome,’ she said, as dispassionately as she was able. ‘Your features are irregular. However, your figure is good, if not elegant, your hair is thick and dark, which lends an air of drama... One would need to pose you against some rugged outdoor scene, I believe.’
‘Do you intend to be as ruthlessly frank with all your intended sitters?’
It was attractive that Ivo did not appear to be personally wounded by her assessment. ‘Of course not,’ Jane said.
And then he smiled and something inside her seemed to take a sudden sharp breath. Not handsome, but when his face was lit up with genuine amusement and that smile was directed at her, he was...
Oh, my goodness.
He made her want to smile in return. He made her want to touch him. He made her feel...female.
‘Why am I different, then?’
‘You are a friend.’ Is he? The word had come to her lips without any thought—she knew next to nothing about Ivo’s character, he spent most of his time disapproving of her and yet friend did not seem inappropriate. It was considerably safer than the purely factual description.
Large, male creature with decided animal magnetism who is sitting so close to me in a confined space that I can feel the heat of his thigh through my skirts.
‘I am flattered.’ It was impossible to tell whether he was laughing at her. ‘And we are past Slough and this is the famous Salt Hill where the Four Horse Club gathers on its excursions. Did you know they drive out from London at a sedate trot all the way? They stop at various hostelries for food and drink, arrive at Salt Hill, spend the night and trot back the next morning.’
‘Every time the same route? How boring. I would want to explore—and at faster than a trot if I had a team of four in hand. How thrilling to drive,’ she added wistfully. ‘Where will we change next?’ She found the road book and opened up the strip map. Geography seemed a much safer topic than Ivo’s looks.
‘Maidenhead, so we have fresh horses before we tackle the infamous Maidenhead Thicket, although its highwaymen may be as thin on the ground as Hounslow Heath’s these days. Even so, I think we had best tuck your jewels and money under the seat.’
‘I see the place, it is marked on the map. You know, I have always thought that Maidenhead is a most improbable name for a town—I mean, maidenheads and virginity are not a topic for polite society, yet here is a place actually referring to the matter.’
Ivo made a sound somewhere between a choke and a laugh. ‘I suspect it is a corruption of some Middle English words that have nothing to do with, er, virginity.’
‘That is disappointing—I had imagined it as an exotic place of dissipation. Oh, stop laughing at me, Ivo, it is not my fault that young ladies are kept so sheltered that one cannot even ask a question about a place name.’
‘No, it is not, but the longer I associate
with you, Miss Jane Newnham, the more I am convinced that actually locking up all young ladies before marriage would be an excellent plan.’
Chapter Five
They arrived at the Pelican in Speenhamland, near Newbury, at six o’clock without any excitements along the road and certainly without an encounter with a highwayman, romantic or otherwise.
The yard was bustling and their postilion drew up in one corner, giving Ivo space to hand Jane out into a gap between chaise and wall and away from disembarking passengers and the flurry of boys leading out changes of horse.
He held the door for her, at the same time looking around to scan the yard. ‘I cannot see anyone I know.’
‘Is it likely that you would, if you have been out of the country?’ Jane asked, giving him her hand and stooping to keep her bonnet brim from touching the top of the door. ‘Oh, we forgot the valuables.’
She twisted round, lifted the seat, extracted the bag and turned back, off balance, missing the top step.
The fall was inevitable, but as she tumbled, the bag gripped hard in one hand, she knew Ivo would catch her and he did, holding her secure with both hands around her waist, even as he gave an involuntary grunt of pain as she hit his injured shoulder.
‘I am sorry!’ She looked up as he bent his head and their lips brushed, a fleeting sensation of warmth and the alien flavour of another person. Back on her feet, she found she was staring up at him, panting slightly.