Chapter Eight #2
The carriage horses had to be rested and fed every ten miles or so.
There were convenient coaching inns to be found along the highly traveled route where they could stop whenever necessary and also grab refreshments for themselves.
Whenever and wherever the horses needed to be tended, that was where and when Milbury’s sons would also be set loose to run around until they had exhausted themselves.
While the horses required attention about every four hours, Milbury’s boys needed to be set loose about every two hours.
This proved to be a workable routine.
“You are an expert at this. Your stops seem to have worked out well,” Gwendolyn remarked when they reached a scenic outlook and paused for a short while in the late afternoon.
“So far,” Milbury replied. “It has been a good travel day. Dry, not too hot because of the overcast sky, and a pleasant breeze. We might not be so fortunate tomorrow.”
Gwendolyn followed his gaze to the clouds that continued to darken on the horizon. So far, they had remained ahead of the storm.
“There’s rain in the offing for certain,” Milbury observed. “Let’s hope it passes overnight. We’ll just be dealing with mud then. However, a few hours of sunlight will dry the roads.”
She could not imagine his sons being permitted to run amok in the rain and mud. Since wet weather was a constant occurrence in England, she knew Milbury would also have a plan for that situation. He seemed to be quite thorough and well organized.
They arrived at an elegant coaching inn called the Cobbler’s Shoe for their first overnight stay by early evening.
Milbury and his sons were to share one room while she and Agatha were to share another.
Arrangements had also been made for his driver and the few members of his staff that he’d brought along.
Gwendolyn was surprised by the cleanliness and airiness of the chamber she and Agatha were given.
While Agatha set about unpacking their necessaries for this overnight stay, Gwendolyn followed the innkeeper, a jovial, portly fellow by the name of Mr. Buttle, to the accommodations reserved for the men.
To her surprise, their room was smaller than hers but otherwise quite pleasant and clean.
“I sleep on the trundle bed,” Jordan said, pointing to the small bed one of the innkeeper’s staff was rolling in. “Rob sleeps with Papa in the larger bed.”
Milbury turned to her, apparently reading her thoughts. “We do not require the larger room, Gwen. This one is more than adequate for our needs.”
“All right.” But it seemed unnecessary to make the sacrifice when she and Agatha would have been perfectly comfortable in here.
He cast her an apish look, as though to say, You are mine to protect and care for. But did he really need to treat her like a queen?
The butterflies in her stomach once again began their fluttering dance. She could not recall Andrew ever looking at her in quite this protective way, but she would have to think back over ten years ago, and those memories were not as vivid as they had once been.
“How about we meet in the dining room in half an hour?” Milbury said, and then turned to the innkeeper. “Mr. Buttle, we shall be five for supper.”
Gwendolyn was pleasantly surprised he meant to include Agatha. Then again, Agatha was to act as Gwendolyn’s companion even though she would also attend to her maid duties.
In truth, she thought it was kind of Milbury to accept Agatha so readily. Most marquesses would not be so tolerant of a staff member seated at their table, not even one doubling as a companion. Of course, few marquesses would also have children at their table.
But Milbury was all about family bonds. For this reason, she knew it was important for her to seek out prospective brides who placed family high on their list of priorities. As careful as she had been in making her list of prospects, several had fooled her.
Gwendolyn returned to her chamber. “You’re to join us for supper, Agatha.”
“Me?” The maid inhaled sharply. “Oh, m’lady. I ought to dine with Lord Milbury’s staff. Or take supper here in our quarters. I cannot—”
“You are my companion now, and we must be seen together or else everyone will believe I am traveling with Milbury without a chaperone. They’ll leap to the conclusion that he is sharing my quarters.”
“Oh dear. But I wouldn’t know which fork to use, and what am I to do if Lord Milbury speaks to me?”
“I’ll instruct you on the proper silverware to use,” Gwendolyn said gently, “although I doubt it will be a problem. This is a coaching inn, not the court at St. James’s.
I can assure you that his boys will prove more of an embarrassment than anything you do.
As for speaking to him, Lord Milbury is a gentleman through and through.
He will be polite and engaging no matter your response. ”
“He is a very good man,” Agatha agreed, and let out a breath. “Shall I change out of my travel gown?”
“I don’t think it is necessary for either of us to do so. But I would love to freshen up and wash some of the dirt off my face and hands.”
“Then I’ll attend to our gowns after supper. They’ll need refreshing.”
Milbury and his sons were already in the inn’s common room when Gwendolyn and Agatha arrived. “Mr. Buttle has set us up in one of the private dining rooms,” he said, motioning toward one of the small rooms away from the tables that were already filled with well-heeled travelers.
Gwendolyn observed Agatha as she looked around in awe.
No doubt the few times the maid had traveled with her family, they had not lodged at one of these elegant coaching inns that would have been too expensive.
There were many other inns along the route that took in ordinary travelers.
“It is easy to get used to such finery,” Agatha whispered to Gwendolyn as they all followed the innkeeper to the private dining room arranged for them.
Jordan behaved like a gentleman and held out a chair for Agatha while Milbury attended to Gwendolyn. The three Milbury males then waited for her and Agatha to be seated before taking their seats.
But the boys could not maintain their gentlemanly behavior once the food arrived, because they were ravenous and pounced on the tempting fare as though they had been starved for days. Gwendolyn had never seen creamed potatoes sucked down anyone’s windpipe so speedily before.
Laughing softly, she leaned over to Agatha and whispered, “And you were worried about your table manners?”
Milbury merely rolled his eyes.
The dinner conversation was relaxed and lively as they ate.
Once the meal was over, Agatha and the boys retired to their respective chambers while Gwendolyn and Milbury lingered over a bottle of Madeira port.
Milbury noticed her staring at her glass, which glistened a deep ruby red by candlelight. “Should I have ordered tea for you?”
“No, I would have said something if I preferred it.” She held up her glass in a toast. “Here’s to new adventures, and to blazes with my usual routine.”
He chuckled as he raised his glass. “Bravo, Gwen.”
She shook her head. “Oh, no cheers for me. I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary yet, except for having this after-dinner Madeira instead of my usual cup of tea, and that is hardly worth noting.”
She knew the port ought to be savored and slowly sipped. But she ignored common sense and drank it down faster than was wise. Sipping and savoring were not adventurous at all, and she was determined to do at least one adventurous thing each day.
Milbury arched an eyebrow, but reserved comment.
When she held out her glass to be refilled, both of his eyebrows shot up.
Still, he obliged her. “Dare I say that day one of our journey was a success?”
Gwendolyn smiled. “Yes, I think it is safe to declare it so. But what are we to do if it rains tomorrow?”
He shrugged. “Pray that my sons sleep most of the day. Otherwise, it will be chaos in our carriage.”
“I’ll see what I can do about keeping them occupied,” Gwendolyn said, thinking back to what she might have enjoyed when she was younger.
“You have a gentle way with them.” Milbury took a sip of his port as he turned thoughtful. “They respond so well to you.”
She took a healthy sip of her own glass now that he had refilled it. “You would have managed them quite well without me here.”
“No, you are making a difference for them…and for me.”
Gwendolyn sighed. Was he now thinking of her as a potential match for himself?
She blamed it on their kiss.
This needed to be nipped in the bud.
“Milbury, I must ask you a personal question.”
He grinned. “Must you? And the name is James. I wish you would call me that when we are alone.”
“But this is to my point.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “We have become quite comfortable with each other.”
He nodded again. “I agree.”
“Too comfortable, and this is not a good thing.”
He took another sip of his port, and then set his glass down while frowning. “Why not?”
Gwendolyn took another deep breath. “Because I am not one of your love interests. I am merely your hired matchmaker.”
“Merely? Gwendolyn, you are no ‘mere’ anything. Who else would have been so generous with her time and looked after my interests with your diligence? You also refused to accept a fee. This is not the mark of a hired underling but that of a good and true friend, a person of genuinely commendable character. How can I not admire you and consider you one of the finest ladies of my acquaintance?”
“Yes, well. Um…thank you. But what I am trying to say is that I believe you are too quick in dismissing your bride prospects because you feel too much at ease with me.”
“I would not continue to retain your services if I did not respect and trust you,” he said, once again frowning.
Why was he so stubbornly refusing to see her point?
“What is wrong with my finding you likeable and trustworthy?” he insisted. “How is this bad?”