He closed his eyes for a few moments, leaning his head back and letting his thoughts flow through his mind as they willed. There was much to do when he reached London.
First and foremost, he had to pay a visit to a quiet house just on the outskirts of St. James Square. Discreetly tucked into a row of identical houses, few knew of the activities that took place behind its quite ordinary frontage, or the decisions made behind those unremarkable bow windows.
Inside, he would meet with several gentlemen, share a brandy, and sit around a table in front of the fire, just as one would expect of a party of friends.
Except that these men were more than just casual acquaintances, and they would expect more from Harry than the social niceties.
He sighed. He had everything he needed, all the information required, and a little more. He hoped it would be enough.
“You are quite sombre. Is anything troubling you?” Willow was watching him, her head tipped slightly to one side.
He managed a smile. “I apologise. I am dreadful company.”
She snorted. “Harry, you’ve been dreadful company for quite some time. Now that you’re recovered, however, I would hope for a little livelier conversation?”
“Very well.” He straightened a little in his seat. “How is your family, Miss Trease?”
She sighed. “You probably need to practice saying Mrs Chalmers, don’t you think?”
“Willow, you know that was a mere pretence. We cannot…”
“We have to.” Her voice was firm as she interrupted him. “The most important thing right now is to get you to your destination in London. Would you not agree?”
“Of course.” She had him there.
“And, since we’ve established our marital status on the coast, it would be sheer folly to try to un-establish it as soon as we start inland.”
“That argument is as full of holes as a fisherman’s net, Willow, and you know it.”
“Sometimes, the best pretences are established for the most important reasons.” She eyed him cautiously. “You’ve given me to understand that arriving at wherever it is we’re going in town is of the utmost importance, to the exclusion of everything else. Including a possible diversion from this journey to dispose of me back at Forest Grange.”
Harry gritted his teeth. “Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Oh good grief.” She threw up her hands. “The Lord spare me from absurdly thick-headed men.”
*~~*~~*
They made fairly good time for the first part of the journey, given the state of the roads. Waterlogged and sometimes partially blocked by fallen branches, they showed the results of the winter storms that had ripped through the forests.
Harry had decided to make their first stop at a small posting house, where they could stretch their legs, give the horses a rest, and perhaps have something to eat. It sounded quite sensible to Willow, so she looked out the window, busy with her own thoughts.
Prime amongst which was the matter of their supposed ‘marriage’.
It had been a most convenient charade, of course. She’d been able to take care of her husband, whereas if the truth had come to light? She’d have been shunned as a fallen woman.
How stupid people were.
Although she’d not spent time in London, or attended crowded balls and elegant soirées, she was wise enough to know that few of the aristocracy lived up to the rules they set for their daughters. And she was also wise enough to know that a titled gentleman would prefer his firstborn son—who would inherit his estate—be the fruit of his own loins, not someone else’s.
But given all that, it was still quite silly to assume that any young woman who spent time alone with a gentleman, especially overnight, was seriously compromised and in deep trouble. Would it have mattered in Little Witham? In all fairness, probably not very much, since small villages were mostly concerned with the day-to-day issues of simply living a comfortable life.
But people talk. And talk travelled faster than a storm sometimes. Willow would never want unpleasant rumours to reach her family. She didn’t give two farthings for the Ton, but she did worry that her impetuous declaration might get back to her family and worry them.
They knew Harry, of course. Did they like him? She glanced across the carriage to where he was also gazing from his window, lost in his own thoughts.
