Chapter Five
Jack shivered andhunched his shoulders as icy water dripped down the back of his neck from the trees arching over the road. With six or seven miles still to go, the journey to Ivywood Hall was proving unpleasant, but thankfully so far, it had been uneventful. No sign of the attacker and no other highwaymen or person foolish enough to be abroad on such a night had thus far appeared to confront them.
Rain drizzled on and off as the well-sprung coach plowed through potholes overflowing with muddy water. While Jack rode behind the coach, he considered his plans. It seemed that he would not be needed for more than a day at most, as Lady Butterstone’s brother was expected to arrive soon. He might be here before nightfall. Whatever lay behind the attack on Lord Butterstone, it was none of Jack’s business, and he was eager to hand it over to the family and get back on the road. Jack didn’t want to become enmeshed in their grief. He was escaping London to contend with his own.
They finally entered the elaborate gates of the Hall. Ahead of Jack, the carriage lamps faded with the first signs of dawn, the clouds and mist clearing, giving way to the muted pinks and oranges lighting the sky as the sun rose. They traveled along a road as straight as an arrow, surrounded by acres of lawns and fine trees. Highlighted against the sky stood a tall, elongated shape: Ivywood Hall.
The Hall revealed itself as they approached, pale stone tinged withwarm color by the rising sun, perfectly symmetrical, immense, and grand, and not unlike Stamford, his father’s ducal seat. They were expected. Braziers burned along the front, and candlelight still flickered in the long windows. From beneath the towering portico, a short, darkly clad figure appeared to greet them. The butler.
The coach pulled up on the carriage circle before the house. With a pat on Arion’s neck, Jack dismounted. Bone-weary, he imagined the occupants of the coach were no better. A fair-haired footman yawning behind a hand joined the butler and came forward to put down the steps. He offered his arm to the ladies.
Lady Althea descended first, dressed in a fur-trimmed pelisse and hat. “Thank you for seeing us safely home, Captain Ryder,” she said, her reddened eyes betraying her grief. “My mother and I felt a little easier knowing you were there.”
Fighting weariness and concerned for the ladies, Jack removed his hat. Bowed. “You’re welcome, my lady.”
While the footman aided her mother, Lady Althea addressed the butler. “We bear the most dreadful news, Billings. I shall explain inside.”
Billings watched the despairing Lady Butterstone leave the empty coach. “I expected you home hours ago, my lady,” he said. “The trunks, the maids and his lordship’s valet have arrived.” He cast an anxious glance at Jack.
“This gentleman is Captain Ryder,” Lady Althea said. “He kindly escorted us home. The captain needs food and a bed. Would you see to it?”
“Yes, milady.” Beside the youthful, broad-shouldered footman, Billings looked aged and somewhat confused as he gazed up at Jack. “Sir, the stablehand will see to your horse.”
“Thank you, but I prefer to do it.”
“Certainly, Captain.” Billings assisted his teary-eyed mistress into the house to learn the worst.
Lady Althea’s finely boned face was pinched with strain and sorrow. After watching her follow her mother and Billings into the house, stiff-backed and determined, Jack smoothed his hair and replaced his hat. He walked Arion along the gravel drive toward the stables. His thoughts turned to breakfast, with the hope of eggs and bacon and a pile of toast, kippers, maybe, plus good, strong coffee. Something to set him up for the road ahead. An hour or two’s sleep beforehand would be welcome.
The crunch of a vehicle’s wheels on the gravel carriageway awakened Jack. It was well past noon; the sun was low on the horizon, sinking into the west. Raised voices brought him to the window of the plush bedroom in the guest wing that had been assigned to him. A coach stood before the house while footmen and grooms scurried around.
Jack dressed quickly and went into the corridor. Below him, in the marble-tiled entry hall, a group of people gathered around Lady Althea. He remained where he stood, a hand on the balustrade, not wishing to intrude if it was Lady Butterstone’s brother who’d arrived.
Lady Althea raised her head and saw him. She beckoned for him to join them. One glance at her anguished face and he hurried down the stairs.
You must not get caught up in these people’s troubles, he urged himself. This plan to travel had been in his mind for months, since his father had first become ill. But he already felt himself being drawn in and knowing what a soft spot he had for a damsel in distress, especially one as beautiful as Lady Althea, he needed to get a strong grip.
*
In the stables,Harry stroked the sleek neck of Erina’s bay, Jessie. “Nice-looking mare.” He turned to observe her. “Now, why are we meeting in the malodorous stables?”
“I like the smell of hay and horses.” In the feeble light cast by the lantern, she couldn’t read his expression. But it didn’t matter. She’d made up her mind. “I wanted to tell you what I’ve decided. Thought I should, although I don’t really owe you anything.”
He folded his arms. “I am agog with excitement. What scheme do you have in store for us?”
“Not ‘us.’ Me.”
“Oh?”
“I plan to travel across the country, riding Jessie.”
Harry stared at her. “You are jesting, of course.”
She huffed. “No, I’m not. I’ve considered it most carefully. I am an excellent rider. I shall dress as a man.”
“Of all the mad schemes!” He gave her a mock bow. “Congratulations. I’m difficult to shock, but you have achieved it.”
“Then I shall go by stagecoach.” She hesitated. “But I’m rather short of money.” She hadn’t expected him to be pleased, but his forceful objection surprised her. “I am of age. And it really doesn’t concern you. You can go home with a clear conscience, knowing you did your best to stop me.”
