Roman held a horse by the reins as he talked to Mr. Stoddard. Tipping the innkeeper, he then swung up into the saddle.
Leonie called his name. He frowned, but came up to her.
“You aren’t riding with me?”
“I’m tired of being confined.” His was a flat statement. There was no humor or warmth behind it.
“So,” she said, “this is the way it is going to be?”
“Our marriage?” He snorted his opinion. “I needed money, Leonie. Now I have it.” Without waiting for her response, he put heels to horse and they were on their way.
She fell back on the seat as the coach began rolling. She’d go mad riding alone all day.
But then, he knew that.
She stuck her head out the window. Her husband rode as far ahead of the chaise as he could.
They did not stop for lunch. Roman took bread and cheese out of the hamper for himself and the post boy. Leonie was left to her own wishes.
At least she was going with him.
Once they reached Bonhomie, he would not be able to escape her. One way or the other, she would make her apology and he would have to listen. He liked her. She knew that. His regard for her had lasted for years. One night couldn’t make it vanish.
She hoped.
Leonie had hours to think in the coach. She relived the moments in bed last night. Roman had treated her with gentleness, the way a man who greatly cares about a woman would behave. She could not believe he could cut her out of his life so quickly.
She would win him back. She’d do whatever it took. She was heartily sorry and she would convince him of her remorse.
Of course, she could not drink. Not even sherry. The offer of ale that morning had been a trick to see if she was committed to being the wife he wanted, and she was.
It would help if he would spend even an hour with her.
Eventually, Leonie’s worries tired her. She was not a person given to anxiety. Her nature was more buoyant.
She began entertaining herself by trying to remember everything Roman had told her about Bonhomie. He’d painted a vivid picture with his words. She could see the fields that would soon be planted once they delivered the new plow. The flower beds especially intrigued her. Miles of flower beds, he had claimed. Leonie adored cut flowers.
What else had he said? There were seven bedrooms? He’d also described a ballroom that he promised was larger than any she’d seen in London. That would be quite a feat.
She could picture the wide, cobblestone drive lined by the trimmed hedges and stately trees Roman had described. There were stables so guests could go riding every morning.
And she would be the hostess. She began planning her first event. Of course it would be a dance and she and Roman would lead the first set.
Suddenly, being alone in the coach did not bother her. After all, she had spent a childhood learning how to entertain herself. She had many plans to make and she made them at will. She imagined the cut flowers from the garden decorating the summer cotillion she would hold. She would make a grand entrance and come down the stairs where the three stone framed windows were.
She would be a generous lady of the house and everyone from all over England would sing her praises.
In fact, Leonie was so involved in this story of her own making it took her a moment to realize the coach was turning. She looked out the window in anticipation. They traveled on an overgrown, narrow country lane. Hawthorns and scraggly hollies bickered for space along the road. The horses did not like their sharp thorns. The post boy barely managed to keep control.
Leaning out the window, and trying not to get her head swiped by low hanging branches, Leonie called to the lad, “Where is Lord Rochdale?”
“Up ahead. He said we can’t miss the turnoff.” He yelped as a low-hanging branch swiped across his face.
Leonie had to sit back in the coach. This road was a travesty. She couldn’t wait until they reached Bonhomie with its cobblestone drive. It would be more pleasant to ride on.
The coach turned another corner, but instead of a smooth drive, there were ruts so deep Leonie found herself tossed and bumped as they traveled. Worse, the side of the drive was more overgrown than the road was. The horses were having a hard time of it.
And then they reached a cleared expanse. The road was still rough but branches had stopped banging against the coach.
