Chapter 8 Emily
Emily
Emily, observing the way the duke handled his horses with such consummate skill, found she could only admire him for it.
He also seemed to be very concerned with the animals’ welfare, despite his anxiety to catch up with his wayward sister.
He walked them down every hill and when they came to villages made sure they could take short drinks at the communal trough.
“Not too much,” he said, seeing her looking.
“Not good to work them with a lot of cold water sloshing about in their stomachs. Just enough to keep them going.”
She nodded. This was the closest she’d ever been to a member of the de Vere family and she was finding it fascinating.
If his late father had looked anything like he did, she had to wonder why Mama hadn’t chosen him instead of Papa, who’d been a short, sturdy fellow, as far as she could remember.
Eminently loveable, though. He’d died when she was just eighteen, and this had upset her debut into society somewhat as Mama had been in deep mourning and required all her children to emulate her.
Perhaps this was why Emily had never married.
She’d grown so used to living at home with Mama, and making sure she was happy, that leaving home had soon felt to be something she didn’t want to do.
She glanced at the duke. Perhaps she should initiate some conversation, otherwise this journey, which promised to be long, would be boring. “Do you have any idea at what time the two of them set out? I mean, were there any clues at your house?”
His look could only have been called intimidating, but she refused to waver.
He grunted. “The servants are in their beds by midnight. I myself stayed up until one as I was reading a book. I heard nothing when I went up to bed, and Walker, my butler, assured me he’d locked every door before retiring.
As the servants rise by five, I would imagine the escape was contrived somewhere between two and four. ”
“That would make good sense. Allowing at least an hour clear either side to make sure no one else was awake.”
He nodded. “That is my thinking.”
“Let us assume the middle of those two times and say three o’clock then. And as I know my brother took two riding horses, they were not in a carriage of any sort.”
“Riding would be faster than a carriage, if one was in haste.”
“Yes. A sensible move for two people intent on putting miles between us and them.”
He glanced at his fob watch. “And now it’s approaching eleven, so they’ve had eight hours start on us already, mounted on fit horses.”
Her turn to nod. “But you can’t hammer horses non-stop on these roads. And they will have been forced to stop for at least one comfort break for your sister, I’m sure. Eight hours of riding is a great deal to be done all in one go. For a lady. With no pauses.”
He shrugged. “If I were them, I’d have ridden until eight or nine this morning and then stopped for breakfast, believing my family and yours still in ignorance of my flight at that early an hour.”
“A good point. Knowing my brother as I do, I don’t think he can go too far without sustenance.”
Another grunt. “I fear my sister is the same.”
This was at least getting them somewhere, even if it was only onto speaking terms. She gave him a tentative smile. “I’m sure we can catch up with them before this goes too far.”
The words were meant to be comforting, but the look on his face betrayed that they’d had the opposite effect. “We’d better, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
Oh dear. He was such a very fierce man. Perhaps all dukes were.
She’d never met one before, as her life, unlike those of her married sisters, had been so quiet.
Even Ruth, who’d only been fifteen when Papa had died, was married now and had a better social life than she did.
She must seem quite the stay-at-home spinster sister.
“I’m sure we’ll be able to use reason with them,” she said, in an attempt to dampen his evident fury.
“And besides which, would it be so terrible if your sister were to marry a viscount? My brother’s estate here in Oxfordshire provides him with a sound income, and he also has a townhouse and has inherited Papa’s substantial investment portfolio.
” She knew this because until Rupert had come of age, it had been her job to manage all of this and preserve a goodly income from it.
She was proud of how she’d succeeded, and how it had allowed her brother to spend most of his time in Town as a darling, she understood, of the ton.
Just what any up-and-coming young man as handsome as he was should be doing.
“Juliet is the daughter and sister of a duke,” Capendale said stonily. “She is expected to make an excellent match herself.”
Of course the poor thing was. No one was going to allow her to marry for love, if that was what this was. Emily began to hope they wouldn’t catch the runaways. That would teach this horrible man if his sister ended up happily married to darling Rupert.
At midday his lordship allowed the horses a short rest at a small wayside inn where he procured a private parlor and a luncheon of bread, cheese, and cider.
Emily polished off everything on her plate and rather wished there’d been more of it.
But he was not inclined to dawdle and hurried her back out into the road.
It had begun to rain, so he put up the hood and offered her a rug to cover her knees, which she readily accepted.
Spring weather could be so changeable she was glad she’d thought to bring her gloves and wear a pelisse rather than a spencer.
He, however, seemed unaffected by the inclement weather. Although he was wearing a large caped great coat, so that was probably why. The horses ignored it entirely.