Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Thomas put the last of his travel sweets into his bag and climbed into the Rosemount family travel coach. He was glad to be heading home. Grimy, overcrowded London was not his favorite place.
Dropping his travel bag into the storage area under the bench seat of the coach he lowered the lid. He then opened a book, intent on trying to find something to occupy his mind.
His only regret at leaving London was that he had been granted only the one private morning with Lady Cecily Norris. His humor had since been tested every time he thought of her and the man she was about to marry.
The most interesting and attractive young woman he’d had the pleasure to meet was about to be wasted on an old man who would likely have hands of ice. When he thought of Cecily submitting herself to Lord Horsham, he wanted to punch something. Lord Norris would have been his first choice.
The wealth and privilege Cecily’s marriage would give her would be at the cost of her wild heart. While trained horses were allowed to keep their untamed spirits, hers would be undoubtedly crushed.
“And you think you could have made her a better husband? You are little more than a boring country squire with the smell of the stables in his hair. The only advantage you have over Horsham is your age,” he muttered.
The coach turned out of the mews and headed toward the Great North Road.
They changed horses at Stevenage, some forty miles from London.
Not expecting to arrive at his overnight stay at Huntingdon for many hours yet, Thomas purchased two cold pork pies and a salted beef sandwich at the coaching inn.
That, and several bottles of ale, had him set nicely for the rest of the journey.
Pie in hand, he settled back into reading his book.
The state of the roads deteriorated the farther north the coach travelled. Well paved roads gave way to badly patched up ones which had not seen better days since Roman times.
He had just finished the first of his pies when the coach hit a large bump in the road. He flew up from the bench and landed back down with a heavy thud.
“For the love of Saint Anne, can your man learn to drive!”
Where did that come from?
The lid of the bench seat opposite him lifted, and Lady Cecily Norris crawled out, travel bag in hand. She dropped the lid and sat down, letting out a great sigh. “Those things are a little more cramped than I remember them. Though I was ten years of age the last time I hid away in one,” she said.
Thomas sat staring at her, stunned for a moment at her sudden appearance. She gave him an encouraging but cheeky smile. “You did say I should come to Rosemount Abbey and see your horses sometime. I decided that I should take you up on your offer. It does still stand, doesn’t it?”
He nodded. She was nothing if not unpredictable. “Yes. The offer still stands. Though you didn’t have to hide away in my coach in order to come.”
She pointed at the beef sandwich on the seat next to him. “Could I please have some of your food? I am starving. I didn’t manage to eat breakfast and having to smell that for the past hour has been a trial.”
Thomas unwrapped the sandwich and gave it to her. She tucked into it with unrestrained relish. He pulled out one of the small bottles of ale and uncorked it, handing it to her.
Cecily downed it in several large gulps and handed the empty bottle back to him with a smile.
“Forgive my manners. I was raised at Chatsworth House from a young age. The Duke and Duchess of Devonshire were never ones to stand on ceremony when it came to food. In fact, most of the time we dined where we pleased, and that was often seated on the floor with the dogs.”
His brow furrowed. “So, you didn’t grow up with your family? That is odd.”
She waved his concerns away. “Happens to a lot of children of London society. I have friends from my childhood who are far closer to me than any sibling could ever be, not that I really know any of my brothers and sisters. They were all long married by the time I came along.”
“I don’t suppose your parents know where you are,” he ventured.
“No, and I intend to keep it that way. My father and I went to see Lord Horsham today, and after a short private meeting with him I decided that he was not the man for me. My father would no doubt have a differing opinion, so I thought it best that I make myself scarce for a little while.”
“And you thought Rosemount Abbey would be a good hiding place?” he replied.
She shrugged. “Something like that. Just until I can come up with a plan, one that does not involve me going back to London and marrying that ancient relic.”