Chapter 9 - Theo
Theo
At a quarter before four, Theo brought his horses to a halt in a village slightly larger than the last few, perhaps even large enough to merit the title of small town.
They’d left Banbury behind them, with the rain, and were driving up the busy Coventry road, having to get out of the way when they heard the mail coach horn being blown.
An occurrence that only added to his general bad temper.
He really didn’t want to be chasing off after his hot-headed sister like this.
She should know her place. He chose to ignore the fact that she’d twisted him around her little finger and persuaded him to hold that ridiculous ball for her birthday.
Really, his father had indulged his only daughter far too much and this was the result.
She’d taken it into her head that she was in love with the pretty jackanapes next door.
And now he, the present duke, was having to keep company with that young man’s spinster sister.
It was all too much for a respectable and newly minted duke to have to cope with. Damn Papa for dying so unexpectedly.
A couple of ostlers came out to hold the horses and he helped Miss Montague down from the phaeton, although she didn’t in truth look as though she needed his aid.
He’d be damned if he was going to suggest she use the toilet facilities here.
If she needed to go, let her find them herself.
While the horses were being attended to, he went into the taproom.
A few locals were in there, flagons of ale in their hands. A disreputable lot.
A brandy was what he needed to dispel the nagging headache behind his eyes.
He approached the bar and ordered his drink.
A man in a very old frock coat and cocked hat was holding forth to several of his cronies.
“You never seen nothing like it,” he managed, between snorts of laughter at his own wit. “London swell if ever I saw one, but green as the grass in my orchard. Two fine horses he wanted to sell me. To swap me for a carriage and pair.” More ribald laughter.
Theo’s ears pricked.
“So I had Fred here drag that ratty old pony trap outta the barn and we fetched that nag Farmer Jennings sold me for the glue factory. You know the one. All skin and bone and straight off the stagecoach pens. Broken down old thing. Sent that round for the swell and his lady love.”
His friends burst out laughing. “And did he say anything?” one of them asked.
The taleteller snorted with laughter. “Came round to my stables in high dudgeon, he did, I can tell you. Struttin’ like a turkey-cock. Punch on the nose soon sorted him out. Ran off with his tail between his legs.”
“That were showing him who’s boss,” one of the friends jeered.
Theo knocked back his brandy and prepared to wade into the fray, but they’d not finished.
“Best thing was,” the taleteller added. “Best thing of all, I’d say, was that his young lady were all concerned for the horse and wouldn’t drive it nowhere.
Insisted on the sap finding it a cosy billet and paying ahead for its oats.
Back with Farmer Jennings it is now. And then the sap had to go and find hisself another horse.
Took him bloody forever, I can tell you, and he didn’t find one much better than Jennings’s nag in the end.
If you arsk me, they was in a right hurry. ”
Thinking better of giving the man a facer and more of shaking his hand, Theo set down his empty glass and turned toward them. “I couldn’t help but overhear your story, gentlemen. Would you have any knowledge of the time at which this hapless couple finally departed from here?”
The men, their faces full of evident enjoyment, all swung around to face him. “Wouldn’t ha’ been afore gone eleven, I’d say,” the taleteller said, rubbing his hoary chin. “Watched’em leave and congratulated meself on a tidy profit. So did Farmer Jennings.”
Theo turned to the rosy-faced landlord. “A drink for all these gentlemen, landlord.” And hurried out of the taproom.
The least they deserved for one of them having given that stripling a tap on the hooter.
And now he knew they’d set off from here in a carriage of dubious origins behind a horse of similarly dubious fitness.
He encountered Miss Montague beside the phaeton, giving the horses a carrot each, an action that did much to make him warm to her.
She seemed a sensible sort of young woman, despite her suggestion that Juliet could do well to marry her brother.
He managed to smile. “I have ascertained that our fugitives were here only five hours since when they traded their riding horses in for a less than roadworthy vehicle.” He harumphed.
“Young men who wish to elope with young ladies really should make sure they are equipped with the skills for such an undertaking. Your brother is now the possessor of a bloody nose, given to him by one of the men who swindled him and my sister out of their horses. I fear we need to increase our speed and catch up with them before more disasters befall them.”
He was right about her being sensible. “Oh dear,” she said, getting up onto the phaeton with no help at all. “You are quite right. This sounds an escapade destined to failure. Do hurry yourself.”
He climbed up beside her and the ostlers who had been managing the horses leapt out of the way. Both animals sprang forward at a click from his tongue and set off along the Coventry road as though they’d not already completed a good thirty-five miles.
Miss Montague hung on tight, but her blue eyes were sparkling with pleasure.
Theo found himself wondering about her. She was no longer in the first blush of her youth, but her face was unlined and her whole demeanor one of someone young, but eminently sensible.
In another world, and when not on such an urgent mission, he could have liked her a lot.
As the oldest son of a duke, for most of his adult life he’d been much fawned upon by young ladies and, to his father’s chagrin, none of them had impressed him in the least. Too young, too silly, too flighty, too eager to please.
It was pleasantly refreshing to encounter a young lady who seemed not a bit interested in him for the title he now held.
His three younger brothers thought him fusty and straitlaced, but he’d never cared.
He was the heir and he was fully conscious of that responsibility.
With Richard in the church and already with a brood of seven children, William in the army and George still up at Oxford getting up to who knew what, Theo was content to be considered the reliable one.
They left the town behind.
“That was Southam,” Miss Montague informed him. “I asked while you were in the tap room.”
He nodded. “Good work. We at least know we are on their heels. I have every confidence of catching up with them before nightfall.”
She smiled back, her blue eyes still managing to sparkle even though she must be very tired. “And I have full confidence in you.”
She sounded as though she meant it, and an unaccustomed warm feeling filtered its way through Theo’s body, seeping into what he could only think might be his heart. His parched heart. Good heavens. Why was he feeling like this about a woman he’d only just met?