“What other choice do we have?” Bridget pointed up the road. “We are closer to Hanover Hall, so we should walk there and beg the earl to allow one of his servants to fix the wheel.”
“Oh, I don’t know.” More color left Priscilla’s face. “Would the earl think we are being too forward by asking for help?”
“Prissy, I think the earl would think us foolish if we didn’t ask for help.” She reached out her hand. “Give me the basket and I’ll help you down.”
The look on Priscilla’s face let Bridget know her sister was not happy about their outcome. She realized that if only she had followed her instincts to not come today to check on the earl, they wouldn’t be in this predicament. Then again, her father would have been driving the carriage otherwise, so perhaps it was better that they were this close to someone who had the means of giving assistance so that their father didn’t have to worry about it.
Once Priscilla stood beside her, they linked arms and made their way toward the manor. Bridget absolutely abhorred walking with her feet so muddy, but it must be done. Perhaps this would be the turning point with Adrian—or the earl. As soon as they notice how filthy the two sisters were, the lords would probably turn up their noses and not want to see them again.
Good riddance, Bridget thought. Then again, what if the lords’ reactions were just opposite?
No, she couldn’t think of that.
The closer they came to the manor, the faster they walked. Bridget didn’t know who had picked up the pace first, but her wet feet made her colder. When they finally reached the manor’s front door, her teeth were chattering. She knocked hard, wishing she could stop trembling.
Thankfully, the butler answered the door moments later, and as he scanned both Bridget and Priscilla, a look of disgust crossed his features. Bridget fisted her hands. Couldn’t the imbecile see that they were in dire straits? After all, what respectable woman would visit a lord looking like a drowned rat?
“We beg the intrusion, but our buggy broke a wheel,” she told the servant. “Can we speak with the earl or his brother?”
The older man arched an eyebrow and opened the door wider, motioning with his hand for them to enter. Keeping hold of her sister’s arm, Bridget made certain they didn’t walk too far into the hall with their mud-coated boots.
He closed the door and haughtily lifted his chin. “If you’ll wait right here, I will fetch one of them.”
“Yes, of course,” she muttered, trying not to say anything rude, especially since visitors were supposed to be shown into the parlor to wait. But in this case, staying by the door was best.
“Oh dear,” Priscilla whispered. “We have upset the butler. That cannot be good.”
“Even if the servant doesn’t understand, I’m certain the earl or his brother will.”
Priscilla blinked with wide eyes. “I pray you’re correct.”
Bridget shrugged. “If I’m not, then we’ll discover today how snobbish the Worthington men really are.”
In a way, she hoped Adrian would show his true colors. Then again, she wasn’t sure what his true colors were. Was he indeed the scoundrel she thought of him as, or the kind man who’d rescued her from the runaway horse?
She rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them up. Even wearing her riding gloves, they were still cold. But the heat coming from the fireplace in the nearby room helped warm her, even if it was just slightly. At least her teeth weren’t chattering any longer.
Fast footsteps were heard coming down one of the corridors, and immediately, Bridget straightened her shoulders. She may appear like a waif, but she refused to act like one. Yet when she spotted Adrian hurrying toward them, the beating of her heart took on a different rhythm.
As he neared and his gaze moved over both Bridget and her sister, his expression was the opposite of that of his servant. Worry was the look on Adrian’s face, and she sighed with relief.
“What has happened?” he asked, stopping in front of them, reaching out to take Bridget’s cold and wet hands.
“Lord William,” she said as she started to curtsy, but Adrian held her up, not allowing her to do the proper show of respect. “Please forgive our appearance. On the way to bring you a basket of freshly baked biscuits, our buggy wheel broke and we had to walk.”
“The wheel broke?”
For some reason, Adrian acted surprised that it was only the wheel. What else was he expecting? Then again, after what happened yesterday with his brother, he probably suspected more.
Bridget nodded. “Just the wheel, my lord.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “I’m hoping we can beg you for the use of one of your servants to help fix it. I know it’s a lot to ask, but—”
“Absolutely.” He looked over his shoulder. “Gilbert? Please come here.”
The butler walked briskly toward them. “Yes, my lord.”
“Please have one of the men in the stables fetch the Hartwell sisters’ buggy and bring it to the manor, then instruct them to fix the wheel.”
“As you wish, my lord.” The butler nodded before hurrying toward one of the side halls.
