“You’re angry with him.” And hurting, Winnefred thought. She could see the wounded feelings through the hard words well enough.
Lilly blew out a tight breath. “No . . . Yes . . . Perhaps a trifle disappointed, that’s all.”
It didn’t seem a trifle to Winnefred. “Would you like me to recite a limerick?
The offer made Lilly laugh a little, just as Winnefred had hoped. “Not this morning, thank you.”
Though she would have liked to end the conversation with Lilly smiling, there was one other question that needed to be asked. “Will it be uncomfortable for you, should Lord Engsly return from Italy while we are in London?”
“Certainly not,” Lilly replied, and with enough emphasis to show she either truly meant it or very much wanted to. “I have known from the moment I requested we go to London that the possibility existed we might meet with Lord Engsly. Have I given indication of being anything other than delighted to go?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
And since there was nothing to gain by trying to convince Lilly that she ought to feel uncomfortable, Winnefred decided to entertain her friend with the bawdy limerick after all.
Chapter 17
Beset by excitement and nerves, Winnefred lay awake for most of her last night in Scotland. Images of Smithfield Market and Lilly on Bond Street danced alongside visions of tea-scalded guests and dance partners with broken toes. When she heard the clock in the parlor chime four, she gave up on sleep and climbed from her bed.
She took her time washing and dressing, and made her way to the kitchen to indulge in a leisurely breakfast of bread and cheese. By the time she stepped outside into the cool, dry air, the first soft light of dawn was breaking on the horizon.
She fetched Claire from the stable and began a long tour of Murdoch House land. Usually when she took a walk to ease her worries, she let her mind wander and paid little attention to her surroundings. But there was nothing she wanted more that morning than to drink in every inch of land with her eyes.
She knew every tree, every rock, every perennial bush and flower. She knew what to expect at the top of every rise, what would be waiting for her on the other side of every stand of trees. She knew where the stream would run slow and wide and where it would race narrow and deep. All around her was the familiar and the loved.
For the first time in her life, she was sorry she’d not taken up sketching or watercolors. It would have been nice to bring a picture of Murdoch House along to London. She picked a leaf she could press from a young silver birch instead. And then a second one when Claire nipped the first out of her hand and made a meal of it.
Winnefred sighed and rubbed her fingers along the leaf. She hated to leave, hated that she would miss the slow but steady transition from spring to summer. Then again, it was only for a few months, and a little time away might lend a new appreciation for everything . . . No, she thought with a small laugh, she hated to leave. Lilly, however, couldn’t be more eager, and a brief trip to London was a small price to pay to see her friend so happy.
“I’ll be back before you know it,” she said aloud. Claire responded by making a grab at the second birch leaf.
Winnefred snatched her hand away on a laugh. “Greedy thing. Behave, or there will be no more scraps for you.”
She tossed Claire a bit of bread and resumed her walk, following the stream to the pond. She wondered if she might see Gideon there and was disappointed when she reached the water’s edge and found herself standing alone. They’d not spoken since breakfast the day before. She’d expected him to return and ask after Lilly, but he never did, leaving her with the assumption that he’d expected her to come to him if there was something he needed to know.
She’d rather wished there had been.
Lost to her thoughts, she lingered by the water, skipping rocks and feeding Claire the last of the scraps from the kitchen until the sun was fully up.
“Time to go,” she called to Claire.
Lilly would be up by now and wondering where her charge was. Still, she took a meandering route home, and by the time she got back, Murdoch House had come alive. The front drive was a hive of activity. Footmen were loading trunks onto the carriage, maids darted in and out of the house, and to Winnefred’s surprise, Gideon was standing with a pair of men from Enscrum, both dressed to travel and holding the reins of saddled horses.
He waved at her as she approached and left the group to meet her on the lawn.
“Good morning, Winnefred.” Claire trotted over to Gideon to offer her usual greeting. He nudged her gently, but firmly, aside. “Claire.”
“Good morning, Gideon.” Lighter eyes in the morning sun, she thought with a stifled sigh. Worried the sigh may not have been as stifled as she’d like, she forced her mind to other matters. “What are those men doing here?”
“I hired them as outriders for the trip.”
She craned her neck to look around him. “Both of them?”
“It’s a long way to London. Why? Do they make you uncomfortable?”
“No, of course not,” she answered, straightening. “It seems excessive, that’s all. Two footmen, a pair of outriders, and yourself—”
“Nothing wrong with a bit of excess now and then.”
“Excess in moderation is not sound logic.”
He appeared to give that matter considerable thought, his face taking on a quizzical expression. “That’s true. Makes one wonder if Aristotle really thought the matter through.”
Winnefred wished her knowledge of Aristotle extended beyond how to spell his name.
“Perhaps you’d like to purchase of few of Mr. Howard’s hounds to run alongside as well,” she teased, hoping to change the subject before either her limited education or her embarrassment at her limited education became obvious.
“Mr. Howard has pugs,” Gideon said.
“They’re quite energetic.”
“Mr. Howard also has funds enough to see him through the year.” Gideon subtly pointed in the direction of the outriders with his cane. “These men can use the work.”
“Oh.” She felt a little foolish for having made a fuss, even if it had mostly been in jest. “Yes, you’re right. Of course—”
“Freddie!”
Winnefred turned to see Lilly come marching down the front steps of the house and across the drive.
“Freddie, where have you been?” She took hold of Winnefred’s arm and began pulling her toward the house before Winnefred could even think of saying good-bye to Gideon. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Do you not realize how much we’ve left to do?”
As far as Winnefred could ascertain, the vast majority of what was left to do was worry over, check, and double check all the preparations Lilly had worried over, checked, and double checked the day before.
Despite Lilly’s hovering, the carriage was packed with remarkable speed, or so it seemed to Winnefred. With every piece of luggage carried out the door, she felt a shiver of nerves run up her spine. Oddly enough, the closer they came to leaving, the more relaxed Lilly seemed to become. By the time Gideon pronounced them ready to begin the journey, Lilly appeared very nearly serene.
She took Winnefred’s arm and led her down the front steps of the house. “It is done, then.”
“Done?”
“The preparations, the packing, and what have you.” Lilly sighed happily. “There’s nothing more we can do now but enjoy ourselves.”
Winnefred forced a smile as her friend climbed into the carriage. There were a great many things she might do besides enjoy herself . . . Make a dreadful arse of herself came to mind. She forced the thought aside and took her seat next to Lilly.
The carriage started down the drive with a small jolt, and Winnefred twisted about for her last look at Murdoch House. She stared until her neck cramped and the house disappeared out of sight.
“You’re not leaving forever,” Lilly said softly.
Winnefred turned to find Lilly watching her with sympat
hetic eyes.
“I know. It’s only . . .” She searched for the words to describe the riot of emotions she was battling.
Lilly found them for her. “Knowing isn’t necessarily feeling.”
“Yes. Exactly.”
Lilly nodded and patted her hand. “Give this a chance, Freddie.”
“I am. I will.” She reached up to untie the ribbons of her bonnet. “I’m a bit out of sorts this morning, that’s all.”
“That I can understand. I didn’t sleep a wink last night. I feel as if I haven’t slept for days.” Lilly chuckled and removed her own bonnet. “Like that time, not long after we arrived at Murdoch House, when we thought a wolf was sneaking into the chicken coop.”
Winnefred laughed at the memory and felt some of her anxiousness melt away. They’d stayed up for days, absolutely certain—and really quite terrified—they would catch the thief in the act, only to be informed a few days later by a neighbor that wolves hadn’t been seen in Scotland for more than fifty years. If their chickens were disappearing, they could be certain a fox was to blame.
“Why on earth did we presume a wolf?”
“You suggested it,” Lilly reminded her.
“Oh, that’s right,” she murmured, recalling how loud the raids on the chicken coop had sounded. “However did we survive our first year?”
“I have asked myself this many times.”
“And have you ever reached a satisfactory answer?”
“No.” Lilly retrieved a small pillow from the seat next to her. “Though some credit undoubtedly goes to blind luck. Would you mind terribly if I rested awhile? I feel as if I might fall asleep sitting up.”
Winnefred shook her head even though she would have preferred the ongoing distraction of conversation. “I’ll wake you when we stop to change the horses.”
“Thank you.” Lilly placed the pillow between her head and the side of the carriage. Her breathing fell into the shallow and steady rhythm of sleep within minutes.
Winnefred gave a passing thought to reaching for one of the books Lilly had brought along, but although the road to the south was in much better repair than the road they had taken to the prison, the carriage still rocked and jolted, making the idea of trying to focus on small print decidedly unappealing.
She turned her attention out the window instead and found her view of the countryside partially obscured by one of the men from Enscrum riding alongside the carriage. Pity Gideon had elected to ride behind the carriage, she mused. She would have much preferred to spend the day looking at him.
Still, with a bit of maneuvering, she was able to look around the outrider, and for a long while, she watched a small stream weave back and forth next to the road, cutting across pastures, disappearing into patches of trees and reappearing on the other side. It was the same stream that ran through Murdoch House land, and keeping sight of it felt a little like keeping sight of home.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, and had no idea for how long she slept, but the moment she opened her eyes, she knew a drastic and alarming changed had occurred.
A painful ache had formed in her stomach, and when she shifted in her seat to alleviate the discomfort, she found the movement only caused the queasiness to worsen. A throbbing started in the back of her neck and began to spread, snaking its way up to her temples, across her forehead, and settling behind her eyes. She raised a shaking hand to her brow.
Was she feverish? Her skin felt hot and clammy, but having never suffered from anything more severe than a head cold and a touch of the ague, she had no idea what that might mean. She pressed her fingers to her eyes as fear began to grow. What if she’d caught something at the prison or from one of the guests at the dinner party? After all the preparations, all the work, was she to ruin everything by succumbing to illness?
She let her hand fall and inhaled slowly. No, she was not. She would not ruin Lilly’s chance to visit London by falling ill. As if to mock her, the carriage hit a rut and sent her body into chaos.
Desperate, she forced another deep breath into lungs that felt squeezed and closed her eyes. She fought against the rising nausea, but with every jolt and sway of the carriage her stomach cramped and tossed until she was certain she couldn’t stand it another moment.
Defeated, she lurched forward in her seat and pounded on the roof of the carriage. “Stop! Stop the carriage!”
She was vaguely aware of Lilly bolting upright. “Freddie? Freddie, what is it? What—?”
Winnefred threw open the door as the carriage slowed to a crawl, then stopped. She tripped and stumbled in her rush to get out.
“Freddie, please! Where—?”
“No. Sick. Let me alone.”
She made it into a small wood, through the trees, and down a gentle slope that led to the stream. Then she fell on her knees and emptied her stomach into the water.
It was awful, simply awful, the way her body heaved and shook. And when it finally ended, she was left feeling only marginally better and twice as exhausted. She managed to rinse her mouth out before rolling onto her back and giving in to the overwhelming desire to close her eyes and rest.
She felt a cool hand slip under her neck and she swatted at it without thought and with even less force. She didn’t want anyone there—didn’t want anyone around her when she was weak and vulnerable. The hand moved to her forehead, and she batted at it again.
“Here now, enough of that.”
Gideon’s voice, unusually low and gravelly, came from somewhere above her. If she’d had the energy, she would have groaned at the sound. Why did it have to be him? There were a half dozen other people in their traveling party—if someone had to witness her humiliation, why couldn’t it have been one of them?
“Go’way.”
“Not quite yet.” His hands moved to her throat and prodded under her jaw and chin. “Do you hurt anywhere, Winnefred?”
Did she hurt? Was he serious? “Everywhere.”
“I know, darling, but anywhere in particular? Any sharp pains in your sides or chest?”
“No. Sick. Headache. Go’way.”
He slipped something soft under her head and then he rose and stepped away. For a few moments, she thought he’d actually listened to her and left. A coldness swept over her skin and she shivered. Turning on her side, she pulled her knees up in an effort to fight the chill—and the sudden urge to call him back.
Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me here.
He didn’t leave her, not for long. Within minutes he was back, gently laying something over her shivering form and tucking it between her and the cold ground.
She curled up tighter in the warmth. “I’m fine,” she told him weakly. “I’ll be fine.”
“You will be,” he agreed and brushed a cool rag across her overheated brow and cheeks. “Just rest for now.”
He left the rag cooling the back of her neck and began busying himself with something else nearby.
It was soothing, the sound of him moving around her, and for a long while she simply lay where she was, listening to the leaves crunch under his feet. Though she knew it wasn’t possible, she swore she could even make out his scent—soap and horse and man. She breathed deeply through her nose, comforted by the illusion. Slowly, the nausea and headache receded and her mind drifted in and out of a shallow sleep.
She didn’t open her eyes again until she felt Gideon brushing the hair back from her face. “Wake up now, sweetheart.”
She blinked, swallowed experimentally, and was relieved to discover the nausea had passed. But, oh, she needed something to drink.
“Thirsty,” she rasped.
“I’ve something for that. Why don’t you try sitting up.” He slipped his arms around her, which she might have found agreeable if she hadn’t been so miserable, and gently lifted her into a sitting position.
She tried to assist in the process, but her limbs were so heavy, the most she could do was grip the front of his coat and stare groggily at his loosened cravat.
She gave a small nod and was pleasantly surprised when her head didn’t roll from her shoulders. Her neck felt as if it was fashioned of pudding. “Was I asleep for long?”
“Twenty minutes, more or less.”
That was all? She felt as if she’d been lying on the ground for hours.
His hand moved in small, gentle circles against her back. “You gave Lilly quite a scare, you know. She tried to follow you when you hopped from the carriage . . . Not much of a tracker, is she?”
“Ghastly,” she agreed softly. “Where is she?”
“Do you want me to fetch her for you?”
“No, she’ll fuss.”
Gideon chuckled. “I thought that might be the case. I asked her to wait by the road with the others . . . After I helped her find her way out of the woods.”
It felt so good to feel her lips curve into a smile. “She has no sense of direction. She’s not still worried?”
“Concerned now, but not worried. She sent this with me.” He reached behind him and produced a toothbrush and toothpowder.
Too grateful to pay much heed to her embarrassment, she let go of Gideon with one hand to grip them as if they were made of gold.
Oh, bless you, Lilly.
“Think you could try standing?” Gideon asked.
“Yes.” If it meant she could clean her mouth and get something to drink, she could try dancing.
He helped her up slowly and carefully, but the world still tilted and blurred.
Gideon tightened an arm around her waist when she wobbled. “Easy.”
“I’m all right.” Her legs were weak but steady. The dizziness was already passing. “You can let go.”
He studied her with a line between his brows. “You’re certain?”
She nodded, and he released her slowly, keeping a hand hovering a few inches from her waist. When she didn’t immediately topple, he took a cautious step back. With his form no longer encompassing her entire vision, she noticed he had spread a blanket on the ground. A small array of food was set on top.
Nearly a Lady Page 16
