Chapter 14
Kate
Kate had listened to the tale of James’s heroics at the river no fewer than seven times during the last two days.
Though she would never admit it openly, she enjoyed every telling, which was fortunate as she would likely hear it again.
While the road to Dover remained open, the washed-out bridge had cut off any direct route to London.
James seemed to take it for granted that they would return to the city as soon as the last piece of timber was laid, but Kate had other plans.
She only had to figure out how to persuade him to accompany her to Dover.
Failing that, she would find another way to continue on without him.
The broken bridge also forced every London-bound traveler to stop. The inn, already crowded, was now bursting at the seams with guests from every station.
“Look at Leo, Miss Kate! He’s already a strong one.” She sat on a rug in front of the hearth, Arthur curled in her lap, while Leo clenched a worn blanket between his teeth, growling in triumph as Arthur tugged back. Firelight wrapped around them like a warm embrace.
“He is, indeed.” She ruffled his hair, enjoying his easy affection. Arthur’s laughter at Leo’s antics rang out across the private room, bright and joyful even after the frightful accident.
She could not erase the image of James on the bridge from her mind.
She had been unable to resist rushing out after him and could still feel the icy rain beating on her cloak as she watched.
He had faced danger with a capable confidence that should have been alarming. Instead, it was vexingly attractive.
“Mama!” Arthur rose from Kate’s lap, rushing to hug his mother, Mrs. Grant, around her leg as she approached. She gave him an affectionate squeeze. “Have you been obedient to Lady Katherine, Arthur?”
“Yes, mum.”
Kate grabbed the arm of a chair for balance and rose from the rug. “We had a wonderful afternoon playing with Leo,” Kate assured her. With the cramped accommodations, Kate and Arthur’s mother had become well acquainted as they spent most of their daylight hours in the private parlor.
“Mrs. Peters even brought biscuits!” Arthur exclaimed.
Mrs. Grant glanced down at her son. “Did she, indeed? It appears your afternoon has been pleasant.” Arthur gave her one last hug and returned to Leo, who held fast to the tattered remains of the blanket in his teeth.
Mrs. Grant stepped forward. “Lady Katherine, how can I ever thank you for your kindness toward my son?”
“It is my pleasure, truly. Arthur is such a sweet boy.”
“He is,” Mrs. Grant admitted, “though quite a spirited lad at times with such a lively and curious disposition.”
“He certainly enjoys telling stories, especially regarding what happened on the bridge.” Kate smiled at the memory of Arthur regaling the other travelers of his harrowing adventure.
“I can hardly blame him for sharing it. He would not be here were it not for Lord Brenton’s heroics.” She gave Kate a knowing smile. “It is no wonder you are so taken with the man.”
Kate let out a small gasp. Her reaction seemed to amuse Mrs. Grant, who apparently was not finished. “Almost as much as he is taken with you.”
Heat crept up Kate’s face. She cleared her throat. “Pray excuse me. I need to speak with Mrs. Peters.”
Mrs. Grant smiled at her, clearly amused.
Kate pushed open the door to the common room, pausing to scan the busy scene.
The front door opened with a violent bang, admitting a small gust of rain-scented air and a group of weary men led by James.
Though the clouds persisted, the rain had abated enough for the men to work on building a temporary bridge.
James had taken charge of the project and, amid the chaos, had exchanged little more than awkward pleasantries with Kate since he the night he had read her poetry book.
A high-pitched, tinkling laugh echoed through the room.
Kate cringed. That was the other reason there had been no conversation with James.
Belinda Tolliver. She and her father, a well-to-do merchant from Sussex, had arrived two days before.
Since then, Miss Tolliver had found every excuse to be near James.
Or touching him if she could manage it. She was currently draped on James’s arm, peering up at him with unabashed adoration.
He smiled down at her, drawing another bright peal from her lips. Surely he could not possibly be that amusing. A sour resentment tightened in Kate. She turned away, hurrying to her quarters before he could catch her watching.
She avoided James throughout dinner, choosing instead to sit with Mrs. Grant, Mrs. Grant’s father, and Arthur.
Mr. Ashcombe, a merchant from Sussex, joined their group.
He was a kind, elderly man with a tuft of white hair that refused to stay put, no matter how many times he tried to tame it.
He was a lively dinner companion who entertained them with stories from his adventures at sea.
“I remember one time we ferried a load of livestock, and when the French sailors were unloading, an ornery goat made off with one of their hats.” His face brightened at the memory, and Arthur laughed in delight. “The sailor chased him down, but I don’t believe he ever caught the creature.”
He clearly relished the audience, and Kate found herself equally absorbed. “And then there was all the mysterious cargo,” he said. “We were often paid to deliver crates of goods without ever being told what was inside.”
“What do you think might have been in the crates?” Arthur asked with wide eyes. “Gold? Or jewels?”
Mr. Ashcombe chuckled. “Could be, my lad. I never had proof of it, but anything is possible. A manifest may say one thing and the hold another. Most men see only paper. Sailors know better.”
They listened to his tales until Arthur could no longer hide his yawns. “If you will excuse us,” Mrs. Grant said to the small party, “I believe we will retire for the evening.” The family rose.
“Yes, I will retire as well,” Mr. Ashcombe said with a muffled yawn.
“These old bones need all the sleep they can get.” After bidding one another good night, Mrs. Grant and her family climbed the stairs to their own quarters while Mr. Ashcombe made his way outside to the stables where most of the men were sleeping.
Kate gathered up a few items the serving girl was unable to carry to the kitchen.
Her small task was completed, but she was not weary enough to retire to her room.
Tess had gone upstairs to see to their things, leaving Kate briefly alone.
She grimaced at Belinda’s laugh behind her.
She certainly had no desire to be near James. That left only one option.
She retrieved her warmest cloak from the pegs beside the door and slipped out the rear of the inn, ignoring the hum of conversation and the twittering laughter behind her.
The crisp, cold air was a welcome respite from the stuffy inn.
She lifted her eyes heavenward. The sky was clear, the twinkling stars scattered bright against the deep velvet.
She walked out into the dark, moonlight and starlight her only guides as she made her way toward a small patch that likely served as a garden during the warmer months.
Kate pulled her cloak tight as she settled onto the weather-beaten bench resting against the inn’s back wall, hoping the stillness of the night would help her control her scattered thoughts.
She was in the most peculiar situation of her life, yet she had never felt so alive.
Free and purposeful. She had made a choice, possibly reckless, definitely deliberate.
But most importantly, it was hers. Some of the tension eased from her chest. Perhaps there was a way to live within the confines of society’s expectations and remain herself.
She shifted on the bench and leaned back against the wall.
Soft rustling in the trees beyond the garden made Kate snap upright.
She strained to see through the darkness.
Apprehension stirred as she realized how alone she truly was.
A cold breeze reached under her cloak and raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
A twig snapped, and she rose quickly from the bench. Perhaps it was time to retire after all. But was someone else outside? She could not see past the shadows of the inn.
“Do you remember when Hugh convinced us to sneak out after dark?” a low voice murmured, drawing nearer with each word as his footsteps crunched the dead leaves strewn along the garden path.
Then her mind placed the familiar voice.
Relief came first. Then something she refused to name followed when he broke from the shadows, the dim light of the moon revealing his face. James.
He wore a weary smile that asked her not to run from him or from their overdue conversation. She took a slow breath, summoning her courage before she spoke.
“Do you mean the time he desperately wanted a new puppy and was convinced that if we wished upon a falling star, he would get one?” James took another step toward her. “We sat in that garden gazebo for hours waiting for a star to pass, and when one finally did, poor Hugh had fallen asleep.”
They exchanged a warm glance rich with old memories. He gestured toward the bench. When she sat, he joined her, the edge of her red cloak brushing his breeches.
“You never told me what you wished for that night, Kate.”
“Did I not? I wanted to travel to London with Mother and Father so I could visit Vauxhall. I had read about the music and the lanterns, but they insisted I was too young.”
“I don’t remember you traveling to London that year.”
“In the end, they went without me.”
“I am sorry, Kate.” He gently took her hand.
He looked across the night sky and the twinkling stars, then turned back to her. “And if there were a falling star tonight, what would you wish for?”
“You would like to know my wishes?”
“I would like to know everything about you.”