Chapter Fourteen
“Ha! Caught you.” James didn’t know how Chimes could have been so quick, but the earl had beaten him to the start of the Great North Road and then kept on going, albeit at a slower pace.
I told you I had a rum prancer,” Chimes said. “If I’d known you were going to ride a miserable rip like that, I would have insisted we journey separately. At the very least, I would have lent you some respectable horse flesh.”
It was an idiotic insult since they both rode thoroughbreds. James dug his heels in, and his horse surged forward. For a furlong he raced Chimes, neck and neck, until they realized the futility.
“You know we’ll be switching horses constantly, and thus, it’s ridiculous to argue who has the best mount. We’re wasting any endurance they may have at any rate.”
“True,” Chimes said, easing up.
James did the same. The best part about this type of exhausting, determined gait was it was nearly impossible to talk more than a short quip every once in a while. Thus, they lapsed into silence until the time came to switch out their horses in four hours at a coaching inn.
“If we keep this up and ride through the night, we may even get to Gretna before them.”
“You were going to leaveme behind,” Lady Chimes insisted, taking the empty backward-facing seat and setting her bag beside her on the fine leather squab.
Marianne Diamond, who had climbed in first and taken her preferred place, could only shrug. Lady Chimes was correct. After telling James she wished he hadn’t pushed them together, she’d kissed him goodbye at midnight and then decided to travel alone.
If Lady Chimes hadn’t returned to the Diamond home at dawn as the maid and footman were packing the traveling coach, Marianne would have given a rude salute when she passed by the street upon which the Chimes lived and not bothered to collect her.
Yet before she could head out, Lady Chimes had arrived with a trunk, a leather bag, and a basket of food. And Marianne was trapped with the infernal woman for God only knew how many hours.
“Since we are as different as chalk and cheese,” she said, “why don’t we maintain a polite silence unless absolutely necessary?”
“Fine with me,” Lady Chimes agreed, drawing needlepoint out of her bag.
Hating to do needle work herself, still, Marianne stared with fascination at what a hash the other woman was making of it and longed to point out there were more knots and holes than actual proper stitches. Not that she could do any better.
Pulling out a brand-new book,The Inheritanceby Mrs. Ferrier, she set it on her lap, fully intending to delve in. For a moment, she thought what wicked fun it would have been to have brought Mrs. Ferrier’s previous novel, simply titledMarriage, and left it in view of her carriage companion, to vex her.
Inany case, after staring unseeingly out the window for a long while, Marianne closed her eyes, lulled by the rocking of the carriage.
“It’s going to be toolate,” Geoffrey said, squeezing Caroline’s hand as they crossed the River Sark after the sun had set. “It’s called an ‘irregular marriage,’ but I don’t fancy stumbling around Gretna Green in the darkness looking for someone to wed us.”
“Nor I.” Caroline shivered beside him. On the carriage floor, the hot bricks from the morning had long grown cold as marble. “It’s far too brisk to do anything tonight except sit by a warm and perfectly regular fire.”
“We’ll stay at the King’s Head. It’s right on the roadside, according to reports. I don’t believe it is grand by any means, but someone there can marry us in the morning.”
Sadly, Geoffrey was correct. From what he could see as they drove alongside, the hostelry had a very plain, even shabby façade. However, the chimneys were smoking, indicating some heat, and lamps shone through the lower two windows.
“Doesn’t seem like the type of place to send in my footman and arrange a room,” he said. “We’ll go in together and see if it looks up to snuff.”
He helped her down.
“The thought of returning to that chilly carriage makes the King’s Head look most welcoming,” Caroline said.
He’d learned she wasn’t fussy or persnickety. Moreover, she could tolerate a great deal of inconvenience, whether gristly steak pie, a lumpy mattress, or a noisy tavern directly below their room.
They entered through the low doorway directly into a small passage. On the right was the pub room and on the left was a closed door. In front of them, a staircase disappeared into the unlit floor above.
The only saving grace was a cat seated at the foot of the stairs, which greeted them by rubbing against Caroline’s ankles.
“At least there won’t be mice,” Geoffrey said, and they went into the barroom.
It wasn’t joyless, but it wasn’t bustling with happy locals either. At one of the small tables nearest the hearth sat a couple who looked down and away as if to hide their faces. The other tables were empty save one occupied in the far corner by people with their backs to the room. Geoffrey assumed it was the nature of a place that was infamous for hurried weddings — everyone would wish to keep their identities concealed.
A barman looked up from where he was reading a newspaper and nodded by way of greeting.
