Chapter Eighteen
Flynn rode besideAlthea in her appealing blue velvet habit trimmed with swan’s-down, through country lanes bordered by alders, ash, and pine, the fields brown and fallow under the pale winter sky. They drew rein when the road forked into two. One way led up a steep hill while the other meandered along to a bridge over a fast running stream.
The pine-laden breeze ruffled Althea’s curls as she turned to point into the distance. “Hazelton’s property lies on the other side of the bridge. That must be his house we can see.”
Flynn gazed at smoke spiraling into the air from a slate roof. “Best if we leave the road. We’ll cross the paddocks and approach the house unseen.”
While they searched for a break in the hedgerow, behind them came the clatter and jingle of an approaching carriage.
Flynn grabbed her reins and guided the horses down to the river behind a graceful curtain of willow fronds. Hidden from the road, they watched a carriage race past, sending up a wall of water as it disappeared from sight.
Althea stared at Flynn. “That’s Crowthorne’s!”
“I only caught a glimpse of it. Are you sure?”
“That carriage was sent to collect me for his dinner party.”
“Then it seems Hazelton has a visitor,” Flynn said as they regained the road. “I’d like to lend an ear to that.”
They rode in Crowthorne’s wake while searching for a way through the hedgerows.
“We’ll have to jump a gate,” Flynn said. “Are you up for it?”
“I am.”
Flynn went first, clearing the wooden rail with ease. Althea followed.
“You ride well,” he commented when they met up again.
“I was little more than a baby when my father put me on a horse. First, he would take me up on his, but I nagged him until he got me a pony. I had a mare of my own by the time I was eight.”
“So, you have many skills apart from climbing trees.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I can sew, but if you don’t ask me to paint you a picture, I won’t ask you to recite English poetry.”
“I can recite Irish poetry in Gaelic should you wish it.”
“I would. One day perhaps.”
Her comment made him think that their friendship would continue longer than their time here in Slough, which pleased him more than he cared to admit.
They reached the far fence, and Flynn leapt down. A tributary of the river burbled over rocks, blocking their way to the house.
He helped Althea to dismount. “I’ll wade across. You stay with the horses.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This is an enclosed paddock, and that’s the second time you’ve asked me to mind the horses. I am not a groom. The horses are unlikely to run off. See, they are far more interested in eating grass.”
“You’ll get your skirts wet.”
She shrugged.
Flynn wouldn’t have brought her if there’d been a way to avoid it. He thought quickly. He didn’t want that chin of hers thrust out at him again. It made it damned hard to argue with her. “If you wish to join me in this escapade, you must obey me. Our lives may depend on it.”
“I shall,” she said. “But I do not care for your tone.”
“Look upon me as your captain.” Flynn turned to study the shallow stream, searching for the best place to cross. Beyond it was good cover with a copse of trees close to the house.
With a slight smile, she placed her hands on her hips. “If you are my captain, then what, pray tell, am I?”
