Chapter Two
Oxfordshire 1816
Joseph had left the inn at 2:00 a.m., after snatching a few hours’ sleep. His bed had been lumpy, the room damp, and he had not wanted to spend more time rolling about attempting to keep warm, so he was now riding down the road in what could politely be termed “frigid conditions.”
He understood the risks of riding alone at night, and took precautions. His pistol was tucked into the waistband of his breeches, and he carried a knife in his boot. It was not snowing... yet, and while it was cold enough to numb his nose, he enjoyed the solitude.
He could travel by moonlight and sing loudly if he chose to. Of course, he didn’t choose to, as he had no wish to give nightmares to all the creatures slumbering peacefully in their resting places, but it was an option should he require it.
There were no idiots about who believed they had right of way in a lumbering coach, or young fools racing from one point to another to best another young fool. There was just peace, he thought, looking up the road before him.
When had he become so jaded? Life’s lessons and responsibilities, Joseph realized, had a way of honing personality. He’d once been carefree, his most pressing responsibility the folds of his necktie. All that had changed four years ago. Now he was the head of his family, his heart was encased in stone, and life had taken a series of twists and turns that had changed him irreparably.
Rounding the bend, he came to a halt as he saw the figure on the road before him. A woman was walking with a large sack-like bag in one hand, leading a small dog with the other. What the hell was a woman doing out here at such an hour in these conditions? He hadn’t found a lame horse lurking on the roadside, nor a carriage with broken axle, so he had to rule those out as reasons.
She hadn’t heard his horse’s hooves, as he had been walking on the grass. The other reason she couldn’t hear him was due to her singing. Her voice was loud, and like his, unable to carry a tune.
Clearing his throat loudly, then coughing just to be sure she’d heard him, he began to walk his horse forward. She turned to look at him, and let out a shriek, which made the little dog start yipping, and began scurrying to the verge.
“Pardon me, madam, for startling you, but you appear to be walking in the middle of the road.” Of all the things he could have said, Joseph had chosen that one. Not,you bloody foolish woman, have you lost your wits, what are you thinking to be walking about alone at night in winter, which surely would have been more appropriate.
“Oh, forgive me, I had no idea someone was coming.”
Her voice came out shrill and shaky as she hurried to move, dragging the reluctant dog with her. She did not stop until she was pressed against the bushes that lined the road, which left enough room for his horseanda carriage to pass.
“Are you in need of assistance at all, madam?” Joseph said, reluctantly dismounting. He had neither the time or interest to help some fool woman who should know better but obviously didn’t. However, he’d been raised a gentleman, so he would see to it she was all right, and if so he’d leave. As he approached, she backed up rapidly, which now placed her in the bush.
It was dark, and the moon hidden behind the clouds, but Joseph could see an ugly black bonnet, spectacles, and a rather charming bow shape to her upper lip. The top of her head would brush his chin were he to hold her, and why had that thought slipped into his head? He must be tired. Leaning closer, he took a second look, and something passed through his mind, a memory that was gone as quickly as it appeared, and then he could see nothing but the top of her head as she lowered her eyes.
“No assistance, thank you.” The words came out in a rush.
“I mean you no harm, so do not fear me, madam.”
“Please carry on with your journey, sir.”
“Have we met?” Joseph said, because strange as it may seem, there was something about this woman that made him take a closer look. An awareness that he could not remember feeling with anyone before.
“No, we have not, sir.” She had a lisp, it came out when she said sir.
“How do you know that when I have not given you my name, and you will not look at me?”
“I know no one of noble birth.” She tried to retreat further as she spoke.
“There is a bush at your back, madam; pray cease trying to become part of it. I have vowed not to harm you.” She stopped moving, but her eyes remained on his boots. “Now tell me how you know I am of noble birth, if we have never met?”
“It was a guess. And as you are obviously a gentleman and I am not a lady, I fail to see how our paths could possibly have crossed.”
Joseph believed himself an astute judge of character, and watching her head turn to look down the road he had just ridden made him think she was expecting someone to appear. If he were to wager a guess, he would say she was running from something.
“You look like a lady,” the gentleman in him felt duty bound to say.
“I am of course a lady; however, you are of noble birth, and as such....”
She couldn’t find the right words to continue with the silly conversation, so Joseph took pity on her.
“How do you know I’m of noble birth?” he asked her again.
“Your horse is quality, sir, as are your clothes.” She addressed the words to his boots.
