“Do you think either he or his father will listen to me?” Gwendolyn wondered.
“He hasn’t listened to any of our entreaties,” Michael answered. “You may have more sway. Especially in that blue habit.”
“Marineblue,” she corrected him, but she knew he was right. She wore the habit well. Dara had even insisted they purchase a hunting hat that was a feminized version of the one men wore. Gwendolyn had spent a morning sewing a gold ribbon band and pheasant feathers to it. She adored the outfit’s sporting look.
Through all their preparations, Lady Orpington sent daily invites for Gwendolyn to play cards. This meant that Dara cut and sewed the dresses practically herself. She didn’t complain. For all of Dara’s managing ways, she was truly quite generous and wanted what was best for Gwendolyn.
And so it was that by Wednesday, Gwendolyn had a wardrobe that would do her proud. She couldn’t wait for Mr. Steele to see her in the riding habit.
For travel, she chose a day dress of green-and-lavender sprigs on a light amber background that brought a glow to her skin. She wore an emerald pelisse over it.
Her ladyship sent a coach for Gwendolyn’s luggage and Molly early that morning. Her ladyship’s personal coach arrived at ten o’clock sharp.
Gwendolyn took a moment to introduce Lady Orpington and Mrs. Newsome and even Magpie to Dara and Tweedie, and then, with much waving and Dara’s calls for them to enjoy safe travels, they were off.
They were barely to the end of the street before Gwendolyn asked, “Where is Mr. Curran? I thought he would be traveling with us.”
She had not seen Mr. Steele since their coach ride together.
“Nicholas?” Lady Orpington made a dismissive sound. She was busy directing Mrs. Newsome on how to set up the traveling card table while holding Magpie up and out of the way. Apparently they would play whist all the way to Colemore. “He’ll be along. You know how gentlemen are. They like to ride ahead.” The table up, she plunked Magpie into Mrs. Newsome’s lap, right on her knitting. “You shall play the two hands against Vera and me.”
“But hewillbe joining us?” The thought had struck Gwendolyn the night before that Mr. Steele might change his plans. She didn’t want that to happen. Not until he’d seen her in the riding habit. Her purpose might be to play cards, but her goal was to bring the man to his knees, if at all possible.
“I suppose he will be joining us,” Lady Orpington answered. “Now, shall we play cards?”
Gwendolyn sighed and agreed.
They would be on the road for a good six hours. Colemore was in Kent. It wasn’t that far, but Magpie required numerous stops. Gwendolyn began to wonder if there was something very wrong with the dog. “No, she just likes to wee,” a slightly flustered Mrs. Newsome assured her. “Since Charles’s death, the world revolves around this dog, and Magpie takes full advantage. I’m surprised she doesn’t expect to be spoon-fed. My cousin would do so.”
They stopped by a winding brook for a lunch set up by the footmen. There were a table, chairs, white linens, and an excellent repast of cold chicken, fruit, cheese, and bread. It was all washed down with a sweet cider.
On the road after such a repast, Lady Orpington opened a book, and both she and Magpie promptly fell asleep over it. Mrs. Newsome had returned to her knitting, although she didn’t seem to be much further along on the brown blanket than she had been last week. She stopped often to pick out stray Magpie hairs.
Gwendolyn’s intention was to stay alert for Mr. Steele... although she had not been sleeping well. The card playing, the dressmaking, the adventure of her trip, coupled with the mystery that was Mr. Steele kept her awake at night. Even if she’d been tired when she’d turned to her bed, all the what-ifs had kept her awake.
Until now.
It must have been the movement of the coach. She didn’t even remember dropping off into a deep sleep. It had just happened. One moment she was watching Mrs. Newsome’s fingers workher knitting needles, and in the next...she was riding a horse alongside a coach rolling through the woods. She was wearing the new habit, but her main concern was, where was Mr. Steele? She’d expected him to be in the coach, but no one was there. And then she heard his low, rumbling voice, and she tried to turn toward him—
Gwendolyn came awake with a small gasp for air that sounded suspiciously like a snort. A ladylike snort, but a snort all the same.
She was scrunched in the corner of the coach. Her head had been bent at an awkward angle, and she feared that her mouth had been gaping open.
Glancing around, she groggily realized that the coach wasn’t moving, and her two companions weren’t with her.
Gwendolyn sat up and then heard Lady Orpington say, “You may ride inside with us.”
“I’m fine on my horse.” The speaker was Mr. Steele.
The sound of his voice had not been a dream. He was here, and Gwendolyn’s immediate fear was that he had looked in the coach and seen her sleeping as if she was some fishmonger’s wife dozing in the sun.
She attempted to check her appearance. Her first action was to be certain she no longer had drool on the corner of her mouth. Some pins had come loose in her hair. She began pushing them in—
“Miss Lanscarr, you are awake.” Mrs. Newsome had poked her head in the coach. “Mr. Curran is here. Come join us. We were just taking amoment to stretch our legs and to give Magpie another break before we set off again.”
“Yes, of course.” Gwendolyn still sounded somewhat dazed. She reached for her bonnet from a hook on the wall and put a foot out on the step beside the coach.
Lady Orpington was already walking down the road away from the coach with Mr. Steele at her side. His back was to her. A footman followed with Magpie on a leash. The dog was not being obedient. Lady Orpington was oblivious.
