“Hardly a grand life.”
“You were in the city, and your father was at the university, and you wrote about people who sounded grand to me. Friends who were knights and such. And now—Neil told me that a duke brought you here. A duke, Davina. Neil says he sits below even as we talk now, in this house. I’m almost glad I am too sick to meet him. I would not begin to know what to say.”
“He is just like any other person. It is only a title.” But he wasn’t like any other person, and Louisa would probably be more tongue-tied than she guessed. With this particular duke, most people were.
“Give him my thanks for the physician and for allowing you to stay with me, but do not allow him to see me.” She reached instinctively for her hair, which needed a good washing. That made her look at Davina’s hair too. “Did that happen because you were ill too?”
“It did. Be happy I am too enlightened, or you would have woken this morning with a crop worse than the king’s.”
“I expect it is easier to care for. I rather like the way it looks.”
“I am impatient for it to grow. I can manage to appear normal now, but four months ago it stuck out every which way.” She spooned more soup. “Eat.”
“I can do it myself now.”
“I know, but it gives me pleasure to serve you while I can. We will leave after our meal, and you will probably insist on believing you are healed when you should rest another few days.”
She had spent the morning cooking, and she explained what she had prepared so Louisa might indeed rest. They reminisced for half an hour, then Louisa drifted to sleep and Davina returned to the kitchen to finish preparations for the meal.
They all sat together, boy, farmer, duke and herself. Brentworth drew Mr. Bowman into a conversation about land management and new farming techniques. He had removed his coat when the farmer did, and sat in shirtsleeves and waistcoat, still looking most ducal but also more approachable than he normally did. He seemed to be going out of his way to make Mr. Bowman at ease with the most unexpected guest at the table.
Then he began the words of taking his leave. Davina returned to Louisa to say goodbye. Mr. Bowman walked out to the carriage with them.
True to his word, Brentworth settled her inside, then climbed up beside Napier. Was that relief she saw on Mr. Bowman’s face?
“They are traveling alone together, Louisa. He didn’t ride inside with her, though, so it is possible it isn’t what it seems.”
“Davina is not like that, like what you are implying.”
“He is a duke, my dear. I could hardly blame her if she allowed liberties. Better than her have, from the telling of it. He is unmarried, and even if he had a wife he probably keeps a woman besides. It isn’t like it is for such as us.”
Of course, he might share more with Louisa. He might mention that while in the barn, he had seen the duke and Davina kissing in the garden.
Her face warmed at the thought he might have. That was how oblivious that kiss had made her. She had not even wondered, for an entire day, if anyone had seen.
* * *
Traveling in a duke’s coach on a long journey turned out to be an experience in luxury. Not only did she have the entire inside to herself but also she sat on a velvet cushion and peered out through silk drapes. The equipage surpassed the mail coaches in function as well as appointments. Instead of being jostled, she barely felt the road. At stops, she took as long as she needed instead of worrying about regaining her seat in minutes. At the first one, Mr. Napier came out of the coaching inn with two baskets of food and placed one beside her.
Left to herself, she turned her mind to her mission. The evidence she had gleaned from Mr. Portman in Caxledge gave her heart, even if Brentworth put little value on it. She did not expect him to capitulate unless undeniable proof were found, and after all this time, that was unlikely. However, she did not have to convince him of the rightness of her claim. She needed to convince Mr. Haversham and the king and, eventually, Parliament.
She tried to plan her next steps. Clearly, she needed to go to the property, so it was wise to have undertaken this journey now. She considered how to find the proof she needed.
She chose to forget about that kiss, just as she had recommended they both do. Only she did not forget it. The memory was in her head, at times distracting her down a path best not trod. After one long reverie that was far too vivid, she scolded herself and bent to find a book in her valise. This was why it had been a mistake. Here she was, planning her campaign, and a stupid kiss diverted her from clear thinking. A kiss from the man determined to thwart her, no less.
Brentworth’s coach and four could travel as fast as the mail if he chose. He did not. They stopped more often than a mail coach would. They rolled more slowly, although still at a high speed, in Davina’s opinion. Most significantly, at nightfall they did not continue but sought out an inn.
She had no say in the arrangements. Mr. Napier disappeared into the inn the first night and returned quickly to speak with Brentworth. The duke then came to her while she stretched her legs. “Two chambers have been hired. This inn is passably suitable, so you should be comfortable, I hope. I intend to dine in half an hour, if you would care to join me. Or you can have something in your chamber.”
It would be cowardly to cower in her chamber. She needed to show him that she was the same formidable enemy she had always been. “I will come down, thank you.”
That gave her time to wash and pace off her stiffness. At the appointed time, she went below, and the innkeeper brought her to a little private dining room where Brentworth waited.
He tasted his soup. “I remember the fare here being better than typical, and it seems they have continued the standard.”
Davina had to agree. She was hungry, and it looked as if he was too. They partook of most of the meal in silence.
“I assume you have made arrangements for your stay in Edinburgh,” he said when forks moved slowly.
