Chapter Eight
The stagecoach driver had had enough of Selina’s questions. ‘Miss, it’s either this one or yer wait until tomorrow. Now, I can’t guarantee that one won’t be full too, mind you. So make yer choice.’
The sun was low in the sky, casting a soft golden light after a blindingly hot day. The inn hadn’t been particularly tempting for the night, and she might have to find better lodgings if she couldn’t make a quick connection home today.
With a resigned sigh she handed over payment for herself and Louisa.
She’d been hoping and praying that someone—anyone—would have come running after them.
That they would laughingly tell her it was just a silly jape and that she hadn’t upset royalty or compromised herself or lost her London life and friends.
No, it was all just a bit of tomfoolery!
In an odd way she would have preferred such a cruelty rather than this… isolation.
She shivered despite the sunshine, and when she glanced back down the dusty road that led to Elms Park, she was able to confirm very quickly that nobody was rushing to her aid.
No surprises there… Had any of her friends truly cared for her?
It was a sobering thought and made her feel lost and abandoned.
She hated to be alone, but it seemed that fate had other ideas.
Soon she would be back in Great Yarmouth with only her Aunt Mary for company, much like most of her childhood.
At least Louisa was still with her, and she would have some company on the journey.
The luggage was stored, then she and Louisa climbed aboard the carriage.
The stagecoach was a diligence, an inaccurate name for one of the worst kinds of transport in Selina’s opinion.
Her confidence in their transport was not helped by the fact the wheel had a rope around it, implying an earlier quick repair, and the paint was peeling considerably.
Long in the body, with three windows on each side and a door at the rear it was a cumbersome carriage that would make slow progress.
Inside it was, as expected, packed with people and bags.
There were two benches facing each other and one thicker bench in the middle that you could sit either side of.
Unfortunately, the only seats available were on the horrible middle bench.
So she and Louisa took their seats with an awkward smile at their fellow travellers who were obviously disappointed by their joining them, especially as they had to shift around their bags to accommodate them.
With a mighty creak, the old stagecoach rattled forward with a jerk, distinctly less comfortable than the earl’s fine carriage. Everyone rocked and winced as they hit a deep pit in the road, and Louisa grabbed hold of her arm with fright.
‘It’s fine, Louisa. We’ve travelled like this before.’
Louisa shook her head. ‘Sorry, Miss. It’s just a bit of a shock to go back to how it was.’
‘Indeed it is,’ sighed Selina, and then she avoided the eyes of the mother who was scowling at them. She supposed it could be worse.
An hour passed, perhaps it was less, but Selina was finding the journey so awful it felt far longer.
The woman closest to her smelled of cabbages and onions, while the man behind must have a bad cold because he kept sniffing and sneezing profusely, knocking the back of her bonnet repeatedly.
The two children were getting restless and took it in turns to moan and wail at their exhausted mother, while their father read a book beside the open window, possibly the only person to be having a reasonably pleasant journey.
A shout from outside the carriage caused the rickety wheels to slow and then groan to a halt.
‘What is it?’ asked the sniffing man, and he shoved his head out of the window, while everyone else exchanged baffled expressions.
‘Not another broken wheel!’ cried the mother, instantly regretting her comment by the immediate whining of her youngest.
Sniffing Man shook his head before sitting back down. ‘Nothing like that. Looks like some lord or lady wants to pass us. They’re coming up full pelt from behind.’
The group grumbled at the delay but were mostly relieved to hear it wasn’t a robbery or a broken wheel. Selina suspected this particular diligence would be passed a lot on the way to London. She might have done better to walk!
She wondered miserably if the passing carriage might be some of the people from the Duke of Beckton’s house party going out on a jaunt for the day. A timely reminder that she would never again be invited to a grand house party—or any party.
How was she going to cope with the stigma and shame of her ruination?
Selina quickly assessed the possibilities, trying not to dwell on them too much in case they made her cry.
After arriving in London, she would first pay for a night at an inn, before catching the next stagecoach and ferry to Great Yarmouth.
While in London she would check the severity of the gossip in The Lady Tatler and The Evening Post. Those would be the most likely places to find her scandal, if the story had been sold, which it certainly would have been.
Who could resist the rumours of a prince being caught in a tryst with a relative nobody? The servants of the aristocracy made a tidy income selling salacious titbits, and they had ears in every parlour and bedchamber.
And… Oh heavens! Her father would probably have received the earl’s condemning letter by the time she arrived home—explaining everything.
So she would have that conversation to look forward to.
Aunt Mary would wail and throw her hands up in despair.
I always knew her gadding about with Lady Anne was a bad idea!
But eventually her aunt would calm down and rally to her side as she usually did.
Whilst her father would be disappointed in her, as always.
I trusted you to behave! he would say, with that solemn and resigned expression of his that always made her feel small and useless, as if he knew it were inevitable that she would disappoint him.
He loved her, she knew that: Aunt Mary regularly told her as much.
But he could be a hard man to love and be loved by.
Growing up she had always tried her best to please him, to be the perfect daughter, but she’d never done well with her learning and had always ended up in some mischief.
She was too sensitive, too wild and too stupid for a man who prided himself on being a ruthless and cunning admiral.
The only compliment he had ever given her was that she was as beautiful and as sweet as her mother had been.
She clung to that praise in times like this.
In his opinion, scandal and reckless behaviour were only acceptable in the family’s past. Her father had worked relentlessly for years to ensure she was well cared for and had opportunities…and she had lost them all, with a thoughtless and stupid joke.
Tears pricked the back of her eyes, threatening to fall. She cursed at herself for dwelling too long on her father’s reaction. With a rapid blink she focused on the things she could control.
The tryst, if you could call it that, was a simple accident. Even if her father and Aunt Mary were horrified by the scandal, at least they would believe her. Selina was foolish and reckless, but she never lied. They knew that.
She wouldn’t be completely shunned by Society, would she? Surely, the Great Yarmouth assembly rooms would still welcome her…given time? Was the possibility of finding a match with a gentleman also lost…or simply delayed?
As the blur of a fine blue-and-white carriage flew past them, she thought, Well, there goes my dream of catching someone like Mr Chadwick!
She hadn’t wanted him overly anyway—especially after what he’d alluded to the other night.
He’d just suited her requirements, which were depressingly low, now she came to think on them.
Not ugly or poor. Fun, younger than forty and with a house in London.
She’d had a couple of keen suitors before, but no one she’d wanted.
They had either been too old and unfortunate-looking, or too young without a decent house in London or the income to own one.
She had so desperately wanted to live in London, to be surrounded by entertainment and finery.
But it would be a lonely place if she were no longer accepted in Society.
Such silly and stupid dreams—she could see that now. She should have been sensible and married one of those rich older men while she’d had the chance. At least she wouldn’t have to travel by stagecoach then and could do as she pleased.
‘Why aren’t we moving yet?’ snapped Cabbage Woman, and the rest of their travelling companions shifted awkwardly in their seats.
The self-imposed lookout sniffed out the window. ‘Dash it! Why have they stopped?’
On the opposite side of the carriage, the father reading his book was startled by the rear door opening with a sudden jerk.
‘Miss Mortimer, are you in here?’ shouted a deep and commanding voice, that sounded unbelievably like a very annoyed Prince Magnus of Thrudheim.
Louisa gasped and clutched her arm again, although this time Selina wasn’t sure who was more afraid.
* * *
Magnus was good with a task; he excelled at getting things done and took pride in his ability to take charge in a crisis.
But staring into the dim interior of the stagecoach, he was suddenly at a loss for something to say to Miss Mortimer, who sat uncomfortably squished between several people.
She looked as confused by his presence as he was.
Blasted honour! He was trapped and chained by his duty.
‘Miss Mortimer?’ he asked again, and she frowned.
‘Yes, Your Serene Highness?’
The carriage inhaled a collective gasp, and a couple of people did an awkward head dip of deference. Their behaviour only irritated him further as it highlighted the ridiculousness of the situation.