Read Online Lady Drusilla's Road to Ruin by Christine Merrill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christine Merrill
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take certain risks.’
‘Anything,’ she said eagerly, then looked at him, trying to appraise his plan and regain some of her old composure. ‘Well, nearly anything. What do you suggest, Mr Hendricks?’
He went to the other horse and pulled down his bag, removing the clothing he had stashed there. He held them out to her. ‘Leather riding breeches, Lady Drusilla. And I have a spare shirt as well. If you were dressed in a less feminine way, you could ride astride with more comfort.’
‘Men’s clothing?’ she said, clearly appalled. ‘You expect me to wear breeches?’
‘From a distance, you would be mistaken for a boy. It would lessen the risk of someone recognising you as the Duke of Benbridge’s daughter.’
‘But it is very improper. I do not think I could…’
‘They will fit,’ he assured her. ‘While you appear to be…’ He cleared his throat, trying not to comment on the shape of her, which was as far from a man’s as he could imagine. ‘Well, at least we are of a similar height and, in most ways, I am larger than you. If we can cobble together a disguise out of spare clothing from my pack, it would do quite well for you.’
She touched the clothes gently and he noticed how fine her hand looked, lying against the leather. ‘Would it add so much to the speed of our progress?’
‘You will find that men’s clothing is much less restrictive for trips like this. We will be able to move more quickly and will stop before returning to populated areas, to allow you to change into something more appropriate to your gender.’
‘And no one would ever know?’ she asked hopefully.
‘I will certainly tell no one,’ he said. ‘It is much better, is it not, that Lady Drusilla not be seen travelling alone with a strange man?’
She gave a little shiver at the thought. He did not know whether to be angry or flattered by it, for at least it proved that she recognised him as a threat and not some neutered tool. ‘That is probably true. If the story of this trip gets out, I have already done great harm to my reputation. Can the addition of breeches make it worse?’
He smiled encouragingly. ‘Very well, then. Take these and step behind the trees to change. If you run into difficulties…’ He thought of her half-dressed body and realised that there was not a damned thing he dared to do for her. ‘Make a brave attempt.’
He waited where he was as she took the proffered clothing and concealed herself. To prevent temptation, he turned his back on the scene as well, so that he would not catch even a glimpse of bare skin through the sparse leaves.
Or, worse yet, he might catch himself straining to see something. Though he had managed to keep his eyes respectfully averted for most of last night, after the ride they’d just shared, his will was not so strong.
He heard her return a short time later and turned to find her standing with hands spread before her, in a gesture that sought approval. ‘Is this all right?’
‘Yes,’ he responded, trying to modulate his own voice and looking hurriedly away. ‘Yes. That will be quite satisfactory.’
Dear God.
When he’d made the suggestion, he had not given two thoughts to it. They were his own clothes, after all. He had seen them before.
But never like this. The shirt was full, and covered her to the throat, obscuring the curves underneath it with billows of fabric. But it was far too thin. The dark peaks of her breasts were displayed plain for anyone who wished to look. The tender budding tips jutted against the cloth. And his eyes strained to see, like dogs at the end of a lead. He forced them back to her face, and stripped off his topcoat and handed it to her. ‘Perhaps this will help.’
It did not. Not really. Her legs still protruded from the tails of the coat and the shapeliness of her calves was not obscured through the heavy stockings. The leather of the breeches pulled tight against her thighs and her nicely rounded bottom. The buff
‘Anything,’ she said eagerly, then looked at him, trying to appraise his plan and regain some of her old composure. ‘Well, nearly anything. What do you suggest, Mr Hendricks?’
He went to the other horse and pulled down his bag, removing the clothing he had stashed there. He held them out to her. ‘Leather riding breeches, Lady Drusilla. And I have a spare shirt as well. If you were dressed in a less feminine way, you could ride astride with more comfort.’
‘Men’s clothing?’ she said, clearly appalled. ‘You expect me to wear breeches?’
‘From a distance, you would be mistaken for a boy. It would lessen the risk of someone recognising you as the Duke of Benbridge’s daughter.’
‘But it is very improper. I do not think I could…’
‘They will fit,’ he assured her. ‘While you appear to be…’ He cleared his throat, trying not to comment on the shape of her, which was as far from a man’s as he could imagine. ‘Well, at least we are of a similar height and, in most ways, I am larger than you. If we can cobble together a disguise out of spare clothing from my pack, it would do quite well for you.’
She touched the clothes gently and he noticed how fine her hand looked, lying against the leather. ‘Would it add so much to the speed of our progress?’
‘You will find that men’s clothing is much less restrictive for trips like this. We will be able to move more quickly and will stop before returning to populated areas, to allow you to change into something more appropriate to your gender.’
‘And no one would ever know?’ she asked hopefully.
‘I will certainly tell no one,’ he said. ‘It is much better, is it not, that Lady Drusilla not be seen travelling alone with a strange man?’
She gave a little shiver at the thought. He did not know whether to be angry or flattered by it, for at least it proved that she recognised him as a threat and not some neutered tool. ‘That is probably true. If the story of this trip gets out, I have already done great harm to my reputation. Can the addition of breeches make it worse?’
He smiled encouragingly. ‘Very well, then. Take these and step behind the trees to change. If you run into difficulties…’ He thought of her half-dressed body and realised that there was not a damned thing he dared to do for her. ‘Make a brave attempt.’
He waited where he was as she took the proffered clothing and concealed herself. To prevent temptation, he turned his back on the scene as well, so that he would not catch even a glimpse of bare skin through the sparse leaves.
Or, worse yet, he might catch himself straining to see something. Though he had managed to keep his eyes respectfully averted for most of last night, after the ride they’d just shared, his will was not so strong.
He heard her return a short time later and turned to find her standing with hands spread before her, in a gesture that sought approval. ‘Is this all right?’
‘Yes,’ he responded, trying to modulate his own voice and looking hurriedly away. ‘Yes. That will be quite satisfactory.’
Dear God.
When he’d made the suggestion, he had not given two thoughts to it. They were his own clothes, after all. He had seen them before.
But never like this. The shirt was full, and covered her to the throat, obscuring the curves underneath it with billows of fabric. But it was far too thin. The dark peaks of her breasts were displayed plain for anyone who wished to look. The tender budding tips jutted against the cloth. And his eyes strained to see, like dogs at the end of a lead. He forced them back to her face, and stripped off his topcoat and handed it to her. ‘Perhaps this will help.’
It did not. Not really. Her legs still protruded from the tails of the coat and the shapeliness of her calves was not obscured through the heavy stockings. The leather of the breeches pulled tight against her thighs and her nicely rounded bottom. The buff
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