Chapter 5
The next morning, Hugo strode down the stairs to Oliver’s library. He was already in his traveling clothes, his bag packed. All he needed to do was inform Oliver he was leaving.
He rapped sharply on the library door and opened it to find the room empty.
The footman stationed in the hallway coughed softly, and Hugo looked at him quizzically.
“His grace is not yet down, my lord.”
“Strange.” Oliver was usually an early riser. “I must speak to him as soon as possible. I shall wait for him here.”
The footman nodded as Hugo pushed the door open.
The curtains had already been drawn back from the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving him a panoramic view of the storm clouds piling up.
They were already quite dark, and snow drifted down in swirling eddies.
Hugo frowned. It looked more and more likely he would end up snowbound somewhere along his route.
Even that was preferable to staying for the wedding.
The door opened and a housemaid peeked through. “Begging pardon, milord. James wanted me to let you know breakfast is being served.”
“That’s quite all right… Molly, is it?”
She bobbed a curtsey, her face a little flushed at being recognized. “Yes, milord.”
“I must speak to his grace at once, so I would prefer to stay here.”
“I could… I could bring you summat from the kitchen?”
Hugo thought of declining, but his rumbling stomach made the decision for him. “Thank you, Molly.”
She nodded and closed the door again. Hugo wandered over to the nearest bookshelf, trying to keep his frustration in check.
Becoming agitated would not make Oliver appear any sooner if his brother had not even gone to breakfast yet.
He picked up a novel and seated himself next to the fireplace after using the poker to bring the banked flames back to life.
The action soothed his roiling feelings at least a little.
Molly returned after a remarkably short time with a plate of scones and a pot of tea, setting it on the small table next to him and curtseying on her way out, closing the door behind herself.
He had finished one scone and was preparing to pick up a second when the door opened and Oliver came in at last.
Hugo set down his book. “Ah, there you are. I need to speak to you immediately.”
Oliver crossed the room to sit heavily in the chair across from Hugo. His face was pale and puffy, dark rings circling his eyes. He looked as though he had gotten as little sleep as Hugo had. “If you insist, but I am waiting for Penelope. I must speak to her this morning.”
“Oh.” The last thing he wanted was to encounter Penny before he could take his leave. Seeing her might tempt him to stay.
Hugo cleared his throat. “I have been called back to the Admiralty and must leave for London today. I apologize, but I shall miss the wedding.”
Before Oliver could reply, the library door burst open and a woman rushed in, slamming the door behind herself and leaning against it for support. "She's gone!”
Oliver and Hugo leapt to their feet as one. For a moment, Hugo thought it was Penny, but as she turned to Oliver, he knew it was Philippa. Dread rose in his gut.
"What do you mean?" Oliver demanded.
Philippa Montgomery had clearly jumped straight from her bed with scarcely a moment to dress. Her light woolen gown was unpressed and her hair was still in a braid down her back.
"It's Penny. She's gone. She ran away."
"How do you know she ran away?” Oliver said in a voice so reasonable it made Hugo want to strike him. "Perhaps she only went for a walk."
“With a snowstorm coming?” Hugo said, and Oliver glared at him.
Philippa stomped her foot. "She's gone, I tell you. She took a traveling bag and her necessities. And... she left me a note."
Hugo extended his hand. "May I see it?"
"No."
He stared at her, astonished, and she tossed her head.
"It is a personal note meant for me." Color rose in Philippa's cheeks, and Hugo wondered what the note said. "But I assure you she said she was leaving."
Oliver rubbed his forehead. "This is a disaster. What are we going to do?"
Hugo was already at the library door, scarcely knowing how he had arrived there. Only knowing he needed to leave as quickly as possible. "I'll go after her. It's not safe for her to be out in a snowstorm."
"Are you sure?" Oliver's brow wrinkled. "I ought to be the one to do it since I'm the one she was to marry in a few days."
Was? What the devil did Oliver mean by that?
But Hugo had no time to argue. If he had to wait here to find out if Penny was safe, Hugo knew he would run mad. "You must see to your guests and play the host. No one will miss me."
Oliver sighed. “I suppose you're right. Thank you, Hugo."
With the barest nod to Philippa, Hugo strode from the library towards his room. All he needed was his bag and his greatcoat and he would be ready to ride out in hot pursuit of the runaway.
Whatever mad start had sent Penny away, it was not safe for her to be out on the open road by herself. Even without the snowstorm, there were carriage accidents and ill-intentioned men who could harm her.
Once he had her safe, Hugo swore, he would turn her over his knee and give her the spanking she deserved for frightening him so.
Like a brother, of course.
After creeping from the house before dawn, Penny had walked to the nearby village of Little Dufton to await the mail coach, the ache in her joints increasing with every step as the cold seeped through her cloak and dress.
She tied her poke bonnet securely under her chin to conceal her face and hoped her sober cloak and dress would allow her to pass as a governess or parson’s wife, or someone equally dull and unremarkable.
The mail coach for Carlisle had arrived on time with an inside seat available, but the increasing light revealed how leaden the clouds were.
Two days ago, she might have welcomed the prospect of snow for Christmas.
Not any longer. At least, not until she was safely away.
As she settled into her seat across from a dozing older couple, the door opened again and three large men crowded on, bellowing in a manner far too loud for the early morning.
One of them spotted first her, and then the older woman, and snatched the hat from his head. “Pardon, missus. Miss. We’re that excited to be home in time for Christmas.”
Penny nodded briefly and looked out the window, ignoring the men as they crammed into the seats. They clearly had been drinking the night before, for they reeked of gin and unwashed bodies.
As the coach lurched into motion, they began another loud conversation, this time debating a prizefight they had seen.
Penny resisted the urge to cover her ears.
It might seem rude, and she preferred not to draw attention to herself.
The men likely assumed she was traveling with the older couple and she had no intention of correcting them.
The speed of the coach was a bit frightening, the rumble of the wheels along the road making the whole vehicle vibrate.
It swayed from side to side, and Penny thanked her lucky stars she was not prone to travel sickness.
The man sitting on her far side did not seem to have the same luck, and she watched in horror as he began to turn a pale green, the color creeping up from his neck to his cheeks.
A sharp crack, and the coach lurched wildly, throwing the passengers from the seats to the floor. Penny grabbed a handle dangling from the roof and clung to it for dear life, pulling her legs up to avoid becoming entangled with the much larger men.
The coach shuddered to a halt, listing to one side. After a few moments of shouted curses and various banging sounds that reverberated through the coach, the door was flung open to reveal the scowling driver.
“Out! All’a yez. Coach broke a wheel.”
Grumbling, the passengers obeyed, stumbling down the small steps to the ground. The snow was beginning to fall faster now, and Penny slanted a nervous eye at the sky.
“All right, then!” The driver’s voice cut through the buzz of conversation. “One postboy’s taking the mail to the next stop. Other one’s riding back to Little Dufton to fetch a wagon for ye. Jem’s stayin’ here with the rest of the horses.”
The grumbles of the crowd grew louder, and the driver raised his hand.
“I could leave all of yez here by the side of the road. I might still, if there’s this ingratitude.”
The driver turned on his heel and stalked away. Penny sprang forward to grab him by the sleeve. “Excuse me.”
Clearly startled by the refined tones of her voice, he stopped to gape at her.
“Is the only solution to return to Little Dufton?”
He pulled off his hand and tugged a hand through his graying hair. “The next village is three miles off.” He gestured down the road. It was already beginning to fade to white. “Ye’d be better off returning, miss.”
Penny looked each way down the road, bag in hand.
If she returned to Little Dufton, she might as well return to Gaitskill Castle. She would be found with even the slightest search. Kendal might be willing to throw her over for running at all, but she was unwilling to chance him deciding his honor required him to marry her even after her escapade.
If she continued on towards Carlisle, there was a possibility she could beg a ride along the way or find an inn or cottage that had space for her. Even staying away overnight should be enough to induce Kendal to break the engagement.
With a sigh, she hoisted her bag, fixed her gaze on the road to Carlisle, and walked into the falling snow.
Hugo found the mail coach first, half-slid into a ditch with the remaining horses already unhitched and being walked by the last post-boy.
His heart seemed to clench as he saw the small half-filled footprints in the snow leading away from the coach, and he pulled his horse up beside the scowling post-boy.
“Where are the passengers?”
“Gone home,” the boy said.
“All of them?”
“They was all together, ‘cept for that one mort.”