They turned the last corner and the road descended a hill. The horses were forced to step carefully, and they slowed to a walk.
“But what are...” Ryan began, squinting at the long drive that led to the front gates of Winscombe. A chain of shiny vehicles lined the drive, their lacquer and gold trim shining in the setting sun.
“What is it?” Gabriel asked.
She exhaled. “Your cousin travels with an entourage and a retinue. These are his vehicles—all four of them, plus a wagon for his trunks and a curricle in which he zips about. He does not ride. I had forgotten the extent of his caravan.”
Gabriel studied the row of vehicles. Ryan eyed him, her heart climbing into her throat. This was only the beginning. She squinted to the front gates, looking for a sign of her sister Diana. She saw only the liveried grooms and coachmen that operated and staffed the imposter’s fleet of vehicles. They milled about the front gate in ridiculous powdered wigs and red velvet.
They had just passed the first coach when the grooms and drivers began to amble to the drive, looking out as Ryan and Gabriel rode by. Ryan glanced at them, neither smiling nor frowning, simply counting their number and wondering how the Winscombe kitchens were meant to feed so many servants. Again. She also tried to see them as Gabriel would see them. Each vehicle was lacquered black, painted with gold trim and a golden crest exactly like the crest on hernew ring. Velvet curtains hung from the windows and silky pennants snapped at four corners.
She was just about to look back, to check Gabriel’s progress, when she saw two d’Orleans servants—old men both; a groom and driver, from the look of them—step from between carriages to the edge of the drive. Ryan tightened her hold on the reins, worried they meant to rush up and grab her mare’s bridle. When she looked again, she realized their attention wasn’t on her. They were gaping at Gabriel with eyes wide and mouths open.
Next she heard gasps and whispers; they called to each other in French. When her horse passed the two old men, she heard the whispered name of Gabriel’s late father, Prince Phillipe d’Orleans.
Ryan glanced at Gabriel, and then back to the grooms. The two old servants—and oh, now a third—had dropped to their knees in reverent bows. They called to him in French.
“Your Serene Highness,” they said.
“Prince Phillipe?”
“He has returned.”
“Helives.”
Up and down the line, servants in white wigs and crimson livery emerged to observe Gabriel ride by.
Oh God, thought Ryan, a wave of dread rising in her chest. How was this happening? Now? They’d not even reached the house. Must this be the first thing they encounter? His worst fears, coming to life?
Carefully, with as much nonchalance as she could muster, she stole a look at Gabriel. He’d gone ghostly; his tanned skin looked like the underside of a fish. Hekept his eyes fixed ahead. His chest rose and fell. She could hear his breath.
“Carry on,” Ryan called in French to the bowing servants.
They did not move.
“On your feet,” she tried. This time, she didn’t look to see if they complied. She kneed the mare forward, rolling into a trot. Gabriel followed suit, and they sped through the front gates.
“I’m so sorry, Gabriel,” she called to him.
“Where is the stable?” he called back.
“There.” She pointed to the large, drooping structure surrounded by pens and paddocks. “It’s there.”
And then she saw her sister Diana. She was tromping from the stables to the manor house; skirts lifted to reveal muddy boots, hair tied in a knot at the nape of her neck.
“Diana!” Ryan called, her voice breathy and tearful.
“Go to her,” Gabriel said. “I can find my way. Go.”
Ryan glanced at him, her heart in her throat. She saw the set of his jaw, the rigidity of his shoulders. He wouldn’t look at her but gave a dismissive wave. He reined the horse toward the stables and did not look back. He seemed to want to be left alone.
And Ryan wanted her sister.
“Diana!” she called again, kicking the horse into a sprint.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
There was no lantern in the stables. Also, no staff. There were, however, plenty of sheep. Gabriel tied the gelding to a post and drifted from stall to pen in the fading light. He found water for the horse and then feed. He stood at the edge of a pen and observed the sheep. They appeared rather thin at the moment. Ryan’s sister must have ordered a second shearing. They’d been divided into various holding lots; with a larger group ambling about an outdoor paddock. They bleated and watched him with their strange, rectangle pupils. Gabriel was careful not to look at the line of carriages parked along the drive; with the golden crests as familiar to him as the flag of France.
