Chapter 6
Six
“Ihadn’t imagined the leaves of Colocasia esculenta were so green,” murmured Alex.
“I mean, such a rich, nuanced green. It’s more viridian than emerald …
but much deeper than apple …” Her voice trailed off as she stared off into the distance, lost in her own thoughts.
It was another quarter mile before a bump in the road jarred her from her reverie.
“Ye heavens, milord— I fear that I’ve been frightfully rude. Why, I haven’t said a word to you in ages!”
Branford smiled as he guided his greys around a mail coach with consummate skill. “Not at all, Miss Chilton. I commend you for not acting like a miss newly out of the schoolroom who feels she must prattle away regardless of having anything worthwhile to say.”
Alex laughed. “I’m afraid I’m usually prattling on about something, though as for acting like a schoolroom miss, I doubt that’s possible at my advanced age.”
“On the shelf, are you?” he inquired, cocking one eyebrow.
There was an almost imperceptible pause before she answered. “Yes, thank goodness, and very glad of it.”
He slanted a sideways glance at her rigid features, his curiosity piqued by her reply. But before he could respond, she sighed and spoke again. “Kew Gardens was even more amazing than I imagined! There was so much to take in!”
The earl allowed himself to be distracted. “You enjoyed yourself?”
“Oh, milord, it was truly wonderful. Everything was amazingly lush and vibrant—and the colors!” She smiled at him. “I can’t thank you enough.”
Branford knew many ladies who would kill to look as radiant and sincere as Alex did at that moment.
“It was my pleasure.” And to his surprise, he found that he meant it.
A comfortable silence settled over them as Alex lapsed back into her own thoughts on the gardens while Branford contemplated her unusual reaction regarding being on the shelf.
He had always thought it ridiculous that young girls were meant to marry before they had a chance to gain some knowledge and experience of the world, but somehow, he didn’t think that was what Miss Chilton meant.
But he couldn’t help but wonder what sentiments had prompted her declaration .
“Milord …” Alex spoke softly, her voice barely audible above the clatter of the phaeton’s wheels.
Jarred from his own musings, Branford gave her a sidelong glance. “yes?”
“I was wondering if I might ask a favor of you. That is, another one, since I regard your driving me to Kew Gardens as a rather large one as well, but …”
She swallowed hard …
His brows rose. “This the first time I’ve seen you at a loss for words, Miss Chilton.
Come now, don’t you young ladies practice this sort of thing?
It certainly seems most of you have it down to a fine art.
” A faint smile. “I do believe that you are supposed to lower your lashes demurely and flutter them a few times when asking a favor from a gentleman.”
Alex stiffened and her face colored. “Forgive me, sir. You are right to ridicule me. I am well aware I have no feminine charms. And I have no right to ask—”
“It wasn’t meant as ridicule, Miss Chilton,” said Branford. “I was merely teasing you.”
Her eyes remained locked on the road ahead. The silence was now crackling with tension.
Branford swore to himself. She was difficult to puzzle out. He pulled the horses to an easy walk so he could turn his full attention to her.
“Miss Chilton, I apologize if I have offended you. Now please continue and ask me what you intended.”
“It is of no import.”
“Don’t be a peagoose.”
“I am not acting like …” She stopped and grimaced. “Actually, I am, aren’t I? I’m very sorry.”
Her chin rose as she turned to face him. “In truth, I have little practice in asking a gentleman—or anyone for that matter—for help. You … you embarrassed me.”
“It was badly done of me.” Lud, she was as loath as he was about having to ask for help. “It is I who am sorry.”
Alex took a deep breath. “What I was wondering is … umm … during the Peninsula campaign, you were credited with saving Wellington from ambush?” It was phrased as a question.
He nodded.
“It was because you deciphered a code?”
He nodded again, intrigued as to where things were headed. Certainly in no direction he had ever explored with a lady before.
“Are you an expert in cryptology?”
Would Miss Chilton never cease to surprise him? “I am fairly conversant with the principles from my work in the army.”
“Well, I have been struggling for an age, but I can’t make heads or tails of how one wrests the meaning from a page of gibberish. I seem to have no aptitude for the principles of logic underlying cryptology, and I can’t find a decent book on the subject …”
“I take it, Miss Chilton, you have a code that you wish to decipher?”
It was Alex’s turn to nod.
“And just how did you come by it?”
“It was tucked into one of my father’s books, one of the ones he had with him the night he was driving home and had his fatal accident.”
For a moment, a puzzled look shadowed her features. “He had never written in such a manner before. It is the oddest piece of paper. The letters are jumbled together in the most nonsensical way, and there are little symbols that look like axes or some such things…”
“Would you like me to take a look at it?” he asked.
Alex released a harried sigh. “Oh, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble!
I keep thinking, it must mean something important.
Papa was not one to do anything … frivolous or whimsical.
It is as if he were trying to … hide something, or pass on an important message that he didn’t want anyone else to see. ”
Branford couldn’t help noting that the straightforward appeal in her eyes was infinitely more persuasive than any fluttering of eyelashes or coy looks. She was quite wrong about not having any charms …
Clearing his throat, he urged the horses into a brisk trot. “Why don’t you show it to me when we arrive at your aunt’s.”
She flashed a grateful smile, then turned her gaze back to the road, again seemingly lost in thought. But this time, the silence didn’t last nearly as long.
“You sold out your commission and returned home from the war when you … inherited the title?”
His hands tightened on the reins. He nodded stiffly.
“It must have been a very difficult time for you.” She hesitated. “How was your cousin killed?”
He nearly caused the greys to break stride with cow-handed jerk on the reins. No one had ever asked about it, except Henry and Cecilia.
“I’m sorry. If you would rather not …” she said softly.
To his own surprise, he found himself answering.
“My young cousin Jeremy had insisted on serving in my regiment. I had spent quite a lot of time at Riverton after the death of my parents, and being some years older, I think he … that is, we got on very well together. Neither of us had siblings.” His voice became softer. “He was … a good lad.”
Branford couldn’t quite believe he was actually talking about this.
Yet somehow he kept going. “We were deployed against a much larger Spanish force. They had an artillery detachment dug in on a hill above our forces. It was wreaking havoc with our troops. I was ordered to attack with my cavalry and destroy it. Needless to say, it was an extremely dangerous assignment.” He paused, his jaw tightening at the memory.
“I tried to send Jeremy back to headquarters as a courier. He wouldn’t hear of it.
I . . I could have ordered him, but he would never have forgiven me.
Perhaps that doesn’t make sense to you but—”
Alex reached out a hand and touched his for the briefest moment before withdrawing again. “I think I understand exactly what you mean, sir.”
His voice now had a raw edge to it. “The charge was successful, but the cost to my men was enormous. When I found Jeremy under the tangle of mangled horses and shattered bodies he was still alive. But there was nothing I could do. His wounds were too grievous. He died in my arms.”
She didn’t speak for the longest time.
He was both surprised and grateful. How was it she seemed to have the knack for doing the right thing?
Alex finally broke the silence, but only to say, “You must miss him very much.”
“I miss him more than words can express.”
The rest of the ride to her aunt’s residence passed with both of them lost in deep thought.
Alex sensed that something was amiss. The first few knocks on her aunt’s door had gone unanswered—and Givens, her aunt’s elderly manservant prided himself on never keeping a visitor waiting.
Biting her lip, she knocked harder and when the door finally opened open, she could see from his agitated expression that all was not well.
“What is it, Givens?” she cried. “Is Aunt—”
“It’s Mr. Justin, Miss Alex. He’s had a bad fall from his horse. The doctor is with him now.”
She hastily undid her bonnet and pelisse and let them drop to the floor in a heap.
Branford entered behind her.
“How did it occur?” he asked.
“Mr. Justin and several of his gentlemen friends were engaging in some horseraces in the park. Apparently his saddle came undone and he fell. Mr. Hartley and another friend brought him home half an hour ago.” Givens swallowed hard. “He was unconscious and white as a sheet.”
Alex let out a gasp and felt her heart begin to pound against her ribs. “I must go to him!” Fisting her hands, she turned to Branford. “Please excuse me, sir.”
“Of course. The matter we discussed will certainly keep until another time.”
Branford resettled his curly-brimmed beaver hat on his head and walked down the steps of the townhouse to where his tiger was walking the greys up and down the street.
But instead of mounting the phaeton, he paused for a moment, then walked around to the mews.
A young groom was rubbing down an aging chestnut gelding.
Branford ran an appraising eye over the horse and quickly noted it possessed neither great fleetness nor great stamina.
“Is this Mr. Chilton’s mount?”