“Abroad, Mari? Are you ready for such a big leap?” Her mother’s brow furrowed.
“I am. I have learned much, and while England will always be home, I want new experiences.” Now was not the time to tell her mother the real reason she wanted to flee. She was dreading that conversation but knew it would have to be had before the gossip spread.
“Enough about me! Tell me, John and Matthew, how do your studies fare? And Liam, you are looking very holy. And you two scoundrels, have you been keeping up with your lessons?”
The familiar chaos of home and family achieved the miracle of making her forget her own plight. Maribel had forgotten how it was to feel before she had ever encountered the duke, and a night like this was just what she’d needed.
Chapter Twenty-Five
The decision between the speed of mounting a horse to gallop at pace and the practicality of a carriage drew out as he paced back and forth. His stable master struggled to keep his expression neutral. The poor man had already endured a tirade when he informed Thomas that it was he who had arranged for Maribel’s departure.
Left me no choice, she was most insistent, Thomas recalled his defence.
While he wanted to be mad at the man for abetting her abandonment, he begrudgingly admitted that Maribel would have been most insistent and hard to refuse.
Thomas decided on the carriage for practicality, since Maribel would be returning with him. Journeying this way left him with time to ponder, and with each passing moment, he felt more unease. What if she said no? What if she had already left? Gazing out the window nauseated him, but he refused to tear his eyes away, knowing the town of Cheltenshire would soon come into view. He had never been there, but it was close to his country estate, and he had tenants sprinkled about. It occurred to him how little he had showed his face to his neighbours and tenants, and he was indeed one of the most priggish of his peers. Houses began to appear in view, and he sat up and tried to compose his expression, imagining he looked like an eager boy rather than the esteemed Duke of Avondale. He nodded to a farmer who gaped at him and smiled at a woman carrying a basket of goods, who blushed in surprise. He even found himself waving at a group of young lads who ran alongside the carriage.
Perhaps I should visit the townspeople more often, he thought, enjoying the interactions.
The carriage suddenly veered to the right, and he could see a dwelling in the distance—a decent-sized home, aged but sturdily built. Two young boys were watching the carriage pull up, probably Maribel’s young brothers, as he noted they were identical. The carriage pulled to a stop, and he exited without waiting for his man to open the door.
“Good day, young fellows. I have come to call on Miss Maribel Lewisham.”
“Who are you? What do you want with our Mari?”
Impertinence is apparently a family trait, he thought drily.
“Boys, that is no way to address a guest. My apologies, sir, I am Mrs Lewisham. Who should I tell Maribel is calling?”
The woman was an older, softer version of Maribel—grey strands spun through her brown hair, and her chestnut eyes shone with warmth.
“Oh, yes, pardon me, I am yet to introduce myself. I am Thomas Denby, the Duke of Avondale.”
Mrs Lewisham gasped but recovered quickly and, remembering her manners, gave a small curtsey.
“Mari said she doesn’t work for you?” one of the boys asked, clearly nonplussed by his status.
“Boys, hush. Go get Mari.” Mrs Lewisham shooed them away before turning back to him. “Your Grace, please come inside and let me provide refreshment for you both.”
Thomas had forgotten that Mal was behind him until Mrs. Lewisham tried to usher them both in, but Mal politely declined in order to stay with the horses. Thomas was glad, he didn’t need his man to see him grovel. Because he would, if that’s what it came to.
Taking a seat in a small parlour, he looked around the inviting space that Maribel called home. As promised, Mrs Lewisham returned with tea and a plate of biscuits that looked freshly baked. As he was thanking her, he heard Maribel’s voice.
“Your Grace, what an unexpected surprise.”
“I shall leave you both to talk.”
Thinking it odd that her mother would leave them unchaperoned but grateful all the same, he stood and reached out to Maribel. She was unmoved, with her arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She was every inch the stern and resilient governess he had sought.
“Maribel, I have been a fool.”
“As have I. But unlike you, I have taken the necessary steps to remedy the situation.”
“By running away?”
“I am protecting my family from gossip. Well, I cannot spare them from it, but I can ensure I am not around to make matters worse.”
“What gossip? Why are you so infuriating?” He heard the edge in his voice but did not care. Maribel was so aloof—every word she spoke an assault on his heart.
