“Yes, my lady, I am.” Yarrow looked to Roman before saying, “I am joining your husband’s staff.”
“I don’t have staff, Yarrow,” Roman said. “You will find we are threadbare at Bonhomie.”
“I look forward to the challenge,” Yarrow answered.
Leonie’s first reaction was relief. She would have someone she knew with her. She glanced at Roman, wondering if he might have anticipated she would appreciate a familiar face. “I’m glad you are coming,” was all she said.
They had to step out of the way as the footmen carried her trunk out the door. “Yarrow will ride with the wagon carrying your trunk and some other items I purchased.”
Leonie glanced back up the stairs, wondering if all the commotion roused her mother. Apparently, it hadn’t. She set her hat on her head and pulled on her gloves. Folding her shawl over her arm, she said, “Shall we go?”
And it was as easy as that.
On the way out, she dared to ask, “By the by, Roman, where are we going? Where is Bonhomie?”
“Somerset,” he answered, and smiled as if the word alone gave him great pleasure. The name meant nothing to her because she’d rarely traveled outside London. She did like the sound of it.
A hired post chaise and driver waited on her parents’ elegant street. Behind it was a wagon pulled by two draft horses. The wagon bed was covered with a tarpaulin so it could weather a long trip. The bed was apparently piled high. Roman had not wasted time spending money.
Yesterday’s rain had given way to an overcast spring day. She hoped any further rain held off. She had no desire to be caught in a spring storm.
Leonie gave the wagon bed a curious look. “Tools,” Roman explained. “We needed a new plow and other items that are of far better quality in London that what I can find in the country. There are also bags of seed.”
“To grow what?” she asked.
“Corn, barley, every vegetable you can imagine, and flowers.”
“Flowers?” Her valise was placed in the boot.
“My mother wishes a flower garden.”
His mother.He had sisters and, of course, a mother.
The trunks were placed under the tarpaulin. The work was supervised by an officious redheaded gent. Roman introduced him to Leonie as his valet, Duncan Barr.
Barr nodded and bowed but Leonie sensed he was very protective of his master. He might even know the full story about herself and Roman. Men often used valets as confidants. She felt slightly uncomfortable around him. Barr seemed to sense her unease—and liked it.
Fortunately, he was riding with Yarrow. It would only be she and Roman in the coach.
After a few last orders, her husband helped her into the coach and climbed in after her. He shut the door. He gave a wave to the post boy and, with a cluck, the horses moved out.
Leonie turned on the hard leather seat for a last look at her home out of the window. Yarrow and the wagon had not left yet. He was speaking to the footmen, obviously giving his farewell lecture. Mrs. Denbright was in the door with Minnie but there was no one else.
Still, she found herself watching until they turned the corner.
And then, she was alone with her husband.
Leonie pulled off her gloves and folded her hands in her lap, conscious that he seemed to take up an inordinate amount of room in what were now very close quarters. His hat was on the seat between them. She realized she still wore hers. She undid the ribbon and then stopped.
“Is something the matter?” Evidently, he was as aware of her as she was of him.
“I realized there isn’t much room to stow my bonnet.”
“We can make room beside me,” he offered, moving his hat over to his side of the coach, and bringing himself closer to her.
Leonie’s chest tightened. She found she needed to think to breathe. She could well imagine Cassandra making something romantic about this situation. She would never understand Leonie’s uncertainties.
“Or we can set both hats between us.”
