“I would like to get to my destination on time. I only have five days before I must return home.”
The man nodded. “Very well. You will have to walk down the street to Morrison’s place. He will have a horse you can use.”
“Thank you.” Owen slapped his hand on the counter in his excited relief before dashing upstairs for his jacket, then out into the bracing cold.
The wind whipped the end of his scarf, but he burrowed deeper into his jacket, making his way to Mr. Morrison’s. The establishment seemed clean and orderly, bolstering Owen’s hopes for a decent mount.
“My best mare is ole Bessy here.” The owner gave the mare’s rump a slight slap. “She isn’t fast, but she will get you where you need to be without any fuss.”
Owen sighed in relief. “Thank you. That is just what I need.”
“Where are you headed in this weather?” The owner leaned, glancing out a small window toward the ever-accumulating snow. “Hopefully not too far.”
“No, not far at all.” Owen took the horse’s reins. “Only two miles.”
The owner turned back to him. “Aye? What brings you to Carterton?”
Owen smiled as he imagined his arrival at Stonehill. It was sure to be filled with hugs and shoulder slugs and overall Christmas cheer. “I am visiting family.”
The man nodded. “I see. What family would that be? I know everyone.”
“The Thompsons?” Owen saw a flicker of recognition pass over the owner’s face as he nodded.
“Are you related to them? Cousin?”
“Well.” Owen nudged a mounting block with his foot, feeling a bit foolish. They were not actually his family, no matter how much they felt like it. “We are not family by blood. Merely by acquaintance.”
“Acquaintance with Mr. Thompson? Or one of his sons I presume, judging by your age.”
“His eldest son Mr. Jonas Thompson.” Owen bobbed his head. “But all of them, really. I used to live here before my father sold his estate and moved to Banbury to be closer to work.”
The man’s mouth turned down, his eyes slowly scanning Owen. “Lived here you say? What’s your name?”
“Owen Turner. My father has a shop in Carterton.”
“Ah, yes. That’s it.” The man snapped fingers as he looked up in thought. “The glass shop.” He settled himself comfortably against a wooden beam. “I was surprised when your family sold Meadow View.”
“It was a sad day, to be sure. But business expanded and Father wished to be close enough to manage the new store in Banbury.”
“Of course. Good business sense.” The man nodded before seeming to remember what Owen was there for. “Well, I won’t keep you. Welcome back to Carterton. I hope you enjoy yourself.” He rubbed the horse's neck. “And be good to Bessy here. Have a servant from Stonehill return her when possible if you don’t mind.”
“I will.” Owen smiled, leading the old mare outside. She pulled back on the reins as the cold wind flew through the open stall door. “Come on, old girl.” Owen pulled a little harder, but Bessy only resisted more.
The owner laughed, slapping his leg. “Seems even old Bessy won’t go out in this weather. You sure you don't want to delay your travels?”
Thoughts of warm fires, hot chocolate, and all the Thompson’s smiling faces filled his head. “No. Not even a little.” And then he gave Bessy’s reins one last tug.
Chapter 3
Leah. The same morning.
Leahwasimpatientasshe waited for Rebecca to climb in and settle on the bench across from her. She gazed out the window at the swirling snow, her stomach doing a similar swirl somewhere between doubt and dread within her. She did not wish to give up her weekend with Amelia without even trying to make the trip. If she failed, then so be it. But at least she could live with the knowledge that she had done all in her power to avoid Owen. If she simply sat at home, then she would be plagued with regret at not having even tried.
The carriage finally lurched into motion, and Leah gave Rebecca a reassuring smile. Perhaps she was being silly and the trip would be easy. It was not so great a distance. Usually, the trip only took her ten minutes or so, but with the conditions she was sure it would be at least a half hour before they made it. And possibly more.
The carriage crept along as the wind blew snow up against the windows. Even the hot bricks at their feet did little to warm them. They had blankets tucked tightly about their legs, but it did nothing to hide the nervous bouncing of Rebecca’s feet. Usually, the thought of having snow at Christmas would have been a joy. Rarely were they awarded with such a beautiful white landscape, and if Leah did in fact make it to Amelia’s, she would likely enjoy the sight. But not until she was safely at her destination.
After only five minutes of riding, their carriage jerked to a halt.
