Giving David a hug and shaking Lawrence’s congratulatory hand, Roman said, “I do indeed. She’s following in the coach. I purchased a new plow and enough seed for the planting,” he said to Lawrence.
“We aren’t interested in plows. We want information about your wife,” Dora said. “I’m surprised you didn’t have Lawrence perform the sacrament. Then we could all be present.”
“Dora,” their mother again murmured to deter her daughter, but Roman waved her worries away.
“I would have, Dora, but there wasn’t time. I wished my wife to travel with me.”
That sounded so noble and fine. In truth, Roman hadn’t been entirely honest with his family on how dire his financial circumstances were. He was now their sole support and he didn’t want them to be uneasy.
Of course, standing here with Dora’s suspicions, he realized he had been a bit naive about introducing Leonie to them. Yes, he had written that he was about to marry but he had been deliberately vague, and for good reason.
His family knew about the duel and that it was over a woman. Years ago, his stepfather had written him long lectures about the weight killing a man would have on his soul. Dueling was foolish in his opinion. No decent woman was worth that sacrifice and he had raised his stepson to rise above his temper—or so he’d thought.
If they learned too much, the truth of what had happened would help no one, especially Leonie... and himself.
“Here comes the coach,” Lawrence said, nodding to where the drive emerged from the tree line.
All eyes turned in that direction, including Roman’s.
The chaise had not been particularly well sprung. Hired vehicles rarely were. This one now rocked in and out over the uneven drive behind the hard-working horses.
Leonie had stuck her head out the window but had been forced to pull back because of the coach’s bouncing—but shehadtaken a look at Bonhomie. He knew it. And in that moment, Roman saw his home as she did.
He saw the weed-filled lawn with its uneven terrain. She had to notice that a good portion of the house’s southern wall was missing. He had also told her the drive was paved and she would know that wasn’t true.
His impulse was to go in the house and bar the door.
Here he’d taken the high and mighty road with her. Now, he felt a bit of guilt for claiming things that were not true.
He should have been more honest with her, but damn it all, Bonhomie would be exactly as he described it to her... she’d just have to wait a few years.
The coach came to a stop. The post lad jumped off the lead horse. “Here we are, my lord. I thought I’d lose a wheel on that road coming in, but we managed fine enough.”
Lawrence spoke. “If we had known you were coming, I would have worked on the road instead of the lane to the village.”
Roman shook his head. “It is all well.” To the post lad he said, “The stables are around back. There is a man there named Whiby who will help you with the horses and see that you have something to eat and somewhere to sleep.” One of the blessings of this venture was that the stables and the barn were relatively intact. They were in much better shape than the house.
There was a moment of expectant silence, and then Roman realized everyone, including the post boy, waited for him to open the chaise door and present his wife. In fact, he was surprised Leonie hadn’t made her presence known, although she had been very chastened earlier. Perhaps she was still feeling justifiably unworthy?
Or she could have hit her head on the coach’s roof after all the rough riding and be unconscious on the floor? If that was the case, his mother would be furious with him.
He did the manly thing and stepped forward. He gave the handle on the chaise door a twist and opened it.
Leonie was in the far corner of the coach, her hands on the seat. She looked as if she had been jostled around one too many times. The jaunty crown and brim of her fashionable bonnet were hopelessly crushed. The pins had fallen from her hair. Half of it was curling down around her shoulders and the other half appeared as if it was being dragged along.
Daggers could not be sharper than the look she gave him with her brown eyes.
Roman offered his hand. “Would you like to meet my family?”
What else could he say? It was a warning of sorts that if she lost her temper, there would be an audience. An important audience.
She reached up and pulled the last of her pins from her hair and slipped them into her glove. She flipped up the crushed brim and slid across the seat. Ignoring his hand, she helped herself out of the coach.
Roman stepped back, tensing for whatever outburst might come his way.
He would have deserved it. He should not have painted such a rosy picture of Bonhomie.
She took a moment to flick out her skirts before facing his family.
