With a smug thought for her own undeniable elegance, Lady Collingwood continued, "Bolting off at midnight to catch a mail coach is exactly the sort of thing one would expect of her. For that matter, so is lying." She yawned delicately behind her hand. "Really, Desdemona, you're fortunate to have missed her. It amazes me that Maximus dared bring her to Chanleigh. She belongs back in the forest with her savage Red Indian relations."
"As opposed to staying with her savage English relations?" Desdemona said with lethal sweetness. "Her mother may have been a Red Indian, but at least her family wasn't in trade."
Althea Collins flushed at the gibe, for she had spent years attempting to forget where her father had made his money. Her furious retort was forestalled by the entrance of her husband.
"Dizzy!" Lord Collingwood said, his long face showing pleased surprise. "You should have written that you were coming. It's been too long since you visited."
In spite of the twenty year difference in age and no physical resemblance whatsoever, Desdemona and her brother were fond of one another. She rose to give him a quick hug, feeling him flinch at the demonstrativeness. She had known that he would flinch, just as he had known that she would hug him anyway. It was long established family tradition. "Apparently I should have arrived three days ago, Clete."
His lordship looked pained. He didn't like the nickname any more than Desdemona liked being called Dizzy.
Formalities completed, she favored her brother with a scowl. "I came to see how my niece was faring, only to be told that she has run off with some story about visiting me."
He frowned as he realized the implications of his sister's presence. "Why aren't you in London waiting for Maxima?"
"Because I didn't invite her," Desdemona snapped. "Apparently the poor girl was so miserable here that she ran away in the hope that I would treat her better. What kind of care have you been giving your brother's only child?"
"Maxima is not a child-she's a woman grown, only a few years younger than you," her brother said defensively. "She did not consult my wishes before vanishing."
"I'm surprised she had money for the coach fare," Desdemona said. "I thought that Max was virtually penniless when he died."
There was sudden silence while the Collingwoods exchanged glances. "You're right, she had little money," her ladyship said, a line appearing between her brows. "I had to pay for her mourning clothes when Maximus died. We have been taking care of her, though she's shown precious little gratitude."
"If she was expected to be grateful, no wonder she left." Desdemona swung around to her brother again. "She may be a woman grown, but she is a stranger to England. Anything might happen to her, particularly if she is walking to London."
"Good God, surely she would never consider such a thing." Lord Collingwood halted, his face reflecting uneasiness. "This morning I noticed that my old map of the London road was not in my desk. I assumed that someone must have borrowed it."
"Apparently that is exactly what happened. Since she and Max spent much of the year roaming the wilds of New England, a journey to London must have seemed quite tame." Desdemona gave up trying to hold her temper. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves! Surely Max had a right to believe that his daughter would be safe here at Chanleigh. Instead, you drove her away."
Collingwood flushed. "I thought Maxima was happy here. I was planning to present her in London with the girls, but never pressed the issue. It didn't seem appropriate to talk about her future until she had recovered more from the loss of her father."
Desdemona fixed her sister in law with a gimlet eye.
"Did you make her welcome, too, Althea? No snide little comments about her background? Did you order a proper wardrobe for her, introduce her to the young men of the neighborhood?"
"If you were so concerned about the little savage, why didn't you do something yourself?" Lady Collingwood said with the anger of the guilty. "You could have visited anytime these last four months, but all you did was write a few letters."
"We've been working for a Parliamentary bill that would protect apprentices, and since we were finally making progress I was unable to leave London," Desdemona said uncomfortably. "But you're right, I should have done more. I thought she would be safe here until I had time to come north."
"There's no point in recriminations," Collingwood said, hoping to head off a major altercation. "The important thing is to get Maxima back here safely."
"How do you intend to accomplish that?"
After a moment's thought, her brother gave a relieved nod. "I know just the man to send after her. Simmons is in Newcastle now. I'll send for him and explain what needs to be done. With luck, Maxima will be home in no time."
"Send for your man if you wish, but I'm going after her myself," Desdemona said tightly. "Someone in the family should care enough to try. What does she look like?"
Lord Collingwood started to say that his sister was being absurd, that such matters should be left to those with experience. A glance at Desdemona's set face made him decide that it was easier to let her go. After all, his sister was an independent and worldly widow, attended by her servants. How much trouble could she get into?
The miles and the afternoon rolled by, and Maxie's unwanted companion showed no signs of boredom. He didn't flag from the brisk pace she set, either. Occasionally Robin made an entertaining comment on the passing scene and they would converse a bit. Sometimes he whistled, very musically. Maxie had to admit that his presence made the miles go more quickly.
They left the forest and joined a wider road with more traffic. It was coming on to dinnertime when they entered a quiet, gray stone village. Robin gestured at an inn called the King Richard. "Shall I buy you dinner? Anything you like as long as it costs less than two shillings."
Maxie gave him a cold stare. "You may stop if you wish, but I intend to continue. Have a pleasant journey, Mr. Anderson."
"Andreville," he said, impervious to the snub. "Anderson is too common to impress anyone. Are you sure you don't want to stop? While I have enough food for another day, a warm meal would help us make it through a cool night."
"There is no us, Mr. Andreville," Maxie said in a doomed attempt to maintain formality. "We are two individuals who have chanced to travel the same road for a few hours."
"You still don't take me seriously, do you?" Her companion seemed unfazed by the observation. "People seldom do, so you're in good company. Very well, cold food it is."
"For pity's sake," Maxie muttered as she walked past the inn and Robin stayed at her side. The man was becoming a blessed nuisance.
An idea occurred to her. If she agreed to stop for dinner, she could surely find an opportunity to slip away from him. With a few minutes' lead, she could vanish into one of the small side lanes. The next day she would cut across to another southbound road and he would never find her. "You're right, a hot meal would be welcome, but I will pay for my own."
His blue eyes danced, and she had the uneasy feeling that he had guessed her intentions. She would have to relax and behave as if she had resigned herself to his escort.
They entered the inn and found seats in a high backed booth in a corner of the smoky taproom. It was so dark that no one would notice that Maxie didn't remove her hat. There was no choice of meals. They ordered the specialty of the day and were served plates of food described as griskin and potatoes.
At Maxie's questioning glance, Robin explained, "Griskin is from the loin of a bacon pig. It's not bad."
Maxie took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. "You're right. It's not bad. On the other hand, it isn't good, either."