He sent her a cold look. ‘I intended no insult. I meant only to help.’
Mrs Milford spoke, shakily. ‘Thank you for your kindness, Captain Fanton, but I am quite well.’
Juliana bit her lip. Mama was not recovered, it was clear, and that insufferable man might be right. Her mother would surely benefit from a quiet evening in the inn, rather than a long coach journey, but how was she to back down now?
‘Landlord, we shall retire once more to your parlour. You may tell the coachman to wait. Lieutenant, I should be grateful if you would fetch the doctor.’
‘Oh, no, Juliana, but we must travel on. Our room is reserved and if we do not leave soon we shall be too late.’
‘We shall discuss it in private, Mama.’
‘Landlord! Do you have another chamber free—one suitable for these ladies?’ Captain Fanton took it upon himself to question their host. Juliana’s fury increased. Really!
The landlord confirmed it.
Captain Fanton addressed Mrs Milford. ‘We can vouch for the rooms here in the King’s Head, for we have stayed here many times.’ He glanced at Lieutenant Evans, who shuffled in discomfort, clearly unwilling to be drawn into the battle of wills between his commanding officer and a young lady they had never met before.
Juliana was now fuming. This was intolerable interference! What business was it of his what they did?
‘If I wish for your opinion, on inns, or any other matter, then I shall ask for it!’ She sent him a daggered glance, then turned back to her mother. ‘Mama, come with me to the parlour.’
Mrs Milford, always polite, thanked the two men before allowing Juliana to take her arm and lead her from the taproom. Juliana ignored them.
The landlord followed them back to the parlour, where Juliana immediately saw Mama settled again in the chair beside the fire. She then quizzed the landlord on all the possible inns in the area. None, it seemed, would suit their purposes, either being full, as far as he knew, or unsuitable for the Quality.
‘Then we have no choice. We must stay here.’
The landlord, who had clearly been troubled by the altercations between the fiery young lady and Captain Fanton, confirmed this with an air of resignation.
‘You may tell the coachman to return in the morning. We require a chamber with two beds, and I shall inspect the sheets.’ He nodded resignedly and left, in his haste omitting to close the door behind him.
Juliana turned to her mother. ‘How are you feeling now, Mama?’
‘Much, much better. Juliana, I do wish we had travelled on.’
‘Captain Fanton did not advise it.’ There was a hard edge to Juliana’s voice.
‘Did you dislike the Captain? I thought him a charming young gentleman. So obliging!’
‘I did not find him charming in the least! In fact, I found him conceited, rude and arrogant! He had no business interfering in—’
She broke off, as the object of her tirade appeared in the doorway, her mother’s reticule in his hand.
‘Mrs Milford, I believe you dropped this.’ Captain Fanton’s voice dripped with ice, his jaw set into a hard line. His eyes, connecting with Juliana’s, flashed fury.
He marched smartly across to her mother’s chair, handed her the reticule, bowed and left.
Juliana stood stock still for a moment, as the realisation of her own rudeness washed over her. Her face flushed. She put both hands up to cover her embarrassment.
‘Juliana! How could you?’ Her mother’s voice signalled her shock.
‘Oh, I know, I know,’ Juliana groaned. ‘But how was I to know he would come sneaking up on me, eavesdropping at the door?’
‘He was not eavesdropping! Juliana, I do not understand what has come over you. Indeed, I am most disappointed in you today and now you have insulted that young man. How many times have I told you that your behaviour must be beyond reproach? I knew no good would come of going to England. I just knew it!’ Mama began to cry.
Juliana rushed to her mother and knelt by her side.
‘Oh, Mama, indeed I am sorry! My dashed temper got the better of me—and it has not done so in years! I can only blame the long journey and his rudeness earlier. Perhaps I, too, am more tired than I knew. I do not normally behave so, you know this!’
Her mother’s eyes were sorrowful. ‘I am surprised, Daughter. If there is one thing I wished, it was to raise you to be a lady, not a termagant! You know how hard it was for me as a widow, raising you by myself. And you know that you must give no reason for anyone to question your behaviour!’ Her mother began to sob gently into a lace-edged handkerchief.
Shaken by the knowledge that she was the cause of her mother’s distress, Juliana just managed to hold back her own tears. Over the years Mama had drummed it into her that she must be ladylike, circumspect, and wary at all times. She must not draw attention to herself. Her reputation was a fragile thing. The consequences of attracting gossip could be fatal to her place in good company.
There were reasons, her mother always said, that she couldn’t divulge, why Juliana must be even more careful than other young ladies. What reasons? Juliana had asked, many times. Her mother had resolutely refused to answer.
Conscious of her mother’s frailty, Juliana had complied—though it had frequently cost her to hold her tongue and behave properly. Today’s lapse was inexcusable. She spent so much of her energies devoting herself to protecting her mother, yet now she had troubled her. ‘I am sorry, Mama. I truly am.’
Her mother, unable to withstand her daughter’s remorse, stroked Juliana’s dark curls.
‘I know, Julie-Annie.’
‘I hate it when you are disappointed in me.’
‘You should apologise to him.’ Mama held her gaze evenly.
Juliana swallowed hard. ‘I know.’
‘Invite them to join us in the parlour. They can dine with us later.’
‘Must I?’ Her mother’s stern look was enough. ‘Very well. But you cannot force me to like him.’
Steeling herself to face him, Juliana moved swiftly along the narrow hallway to the taproom. There he was, glowering into his beer. Lieutenant Evans had gone—presumably to fetch the doctor.
Juliana lifted her chin. ‘Captain Fanton, I must speak with you.’
He looked at her. His eyes narrowed. ‘Well?’
Such insolence! She clenched her fists by her side, managing to hold back the angry retort on her lips.
Deliberately, he leaned back in his chair, stretching out his legs. Long, sturdy legs, she noted absent-mindedly. The thin breeches hugged his long limbs, revealing the curve and sweep of well-developed, powerful muscles. She had heard that some men filled their stockings with sawdust, to falsify muscular calves. Not this man! She felt herself flushing, unaccountably.
Ignoring his attempt to disconcert her, she pressed on. ‘I wish to apologise. You should not have had to hear my angry words.’
A gleam of surprise lit his dark-blue eyes. ‘Are you apologising for saying what you said, or only for allowing me to hear your opinion?’
Oh, he was sharp-witted, this one.
‘I would have preferred you hadn’t heard me, but...’ she sighed ruefully ‘...I should not have said those things. My anger got the better of me.’
‘A frank apology, then. I admire plain