Truth was better than a lie, as long as one didn’t spill out all if it. “Yes. I have business in Swansea. Glenmoor business.”
Emma frowned. “Has it to do with that Jessop person who was here? Has he gone on to Wales?”
Maddy’s heart stuttered.Has he? Could he possibly know…Of course, she realized, he might know Glenmoor had holdings there.
“I haven’t spoken to the man, so I have no idea. He questioned my stepson, but he must not care to speak with me, since he didn’t tarry here.” Maddy hoped that was the case.
Mr. Benson stared into his mug of ale as though lost in thought. “The man had questions, that’s for sure, but he didn’t mention Wales.” He looked up and smiled at Maddy. “Long journey, right enough. Five days at best, weather and roads permitting. You better be prepared for a week. The further you go, the more the roads may be bad, delays possible, and come Wales, the toll gates set to plague you more frequently.” The old gentleman had spent his life in commerce with coachmen. He knew the roads in every direction.
“Daylight will shorten now November approaches,” Emma added, keeping silent about her obvious concern.
The Bensons offered what help they could, and one keg became two with a promise of a hamper waiting for her at first light the next day. Neither stepped on her privacy. Neither questioned the colonel’s involvement. Maddy left, grateful for the care of friends.
Back at the dower house, one task remained. She ought, by rights, to ask David before taking the Clarion traveling carriage across England, but she didn’t want to wait for his answer and didn’t wish to hear his opinions. He wouldn’t object to the use of his carriage; he would object to her lack of a maid. Worse, he would vociferously protest his sister’s impulse to hare off to Wales with Colonel Morgan. His arguments would weary her.
She worded her message with care.
I’m gone to Wales to search for Gideon Jessop. Morgan will accompany me. I am making use of the Clarion carriage and your accounts, I fear. I expect to be back in Ashmead for Christmastide. We can speak then.
There was nothing else to say. She would ask Eli Benson to send it after they left. Let intrusive brothers make of it what they would.
*
Brynn took hismarching orders with good grace, the duchess having arranged things to her satisfaction. He considered insisting Goodfellow accompany them, but he had no right to order Rob Benson’s men. His own time away was another matter.
He had known when he left London that he would go to Wales. The question of Gideon Jessop had plagued him even before he’d known about the letter. When he asked Rockford for leave “to visit home,” fully prepared to resign if it wasn’t granted, the viscount surprised him by insisting on keeping him on full pay. What he wanted in return was a report on the situation in the mines—labor and community unrest specifically. Brynn began to believe there was no subject related to England’s well-being that didn’t interest his enigmatic employer. What he might do with information, or how ruthless he could be, was anyone’s guess.
What Brynndidn’texpect was that the duchess would go with him, but there was no stopping her. They left as promised at first light, found a heavily packed hamper at the Willow, and set out westward, coachman and groom above, Brynn riding in front, and the duchess in regal solitude inside the carriage. At least it amused him to think of her state as “regal.” He suspected “fretful” would have been a better adjective. He hoped she enjoyed solitude because no amount of persuasion would put him in a closed carriage with an unchaperoned single woman, at least not one he treasured, respected, and yearned for as, God help him, he yearned for the Duchess of Glenmoor.
They maintained her bruising pace the first three days, picnicking when it became necessary to rest the horses and stopping late in the evening. The first night, she swept into the inn, her duchess persona in full flower, and demanded two rooms, one for her “brother,” without consulting Brynn. He didn’t complain. He accepted sleeping with the ostlers and coachman, when necessary, but he wouldn’t say no to a comfortable bed and a hot meal.
Unfortunately, the hot meal was delivered to the duchess’s private sitting room. Fortunately, the door to her sleeping chamber was firmly shut. He left the one to the hallway open a crack. Candlelight, wine, and a beautiful woman provided as much temptation as he could endure.
Conversation lurched to life slowly, at first, with languid comments on the roads, the inn, the food, tired voices trailing off periodically.
“Did you inform your brothers of this benighted journey?”
The woman who haunted his nights glared at him across the table. “Of course. I sent word to David that I took his equipage and coachman.” A naughty expression transformed her face suddenly—one that sent delight flowing through him—and she grinned broadly. “I’m using his accounts. It will calm his conscience to pay for my comfort.”
“Did you tell him I’m with you?”
“Yes. He’d have destroyed you if he’d discovered you’d let me come alone.”
The man will destroy me when he discovers we’ve set out alone.The stubborn woman was being deliberately obtuse. “Did you tell him you brought no chaperone? Not so much as a maid?”
“Esther gets ill traveling, and I need her to care for my house. Besides, I’m not some green girl who requires watching.” She glared across the table. He suspected her little speech was a rehearsal for how she planned to berate her brother. “I know how to take care of myself.”
Do you, Duchess? Do you even know what you want?“I wonder how far we get before Clarion sends someone to intercept us?”
Her brows flew up. She obviously hadn’t considered that. “Nonsense. He can hardly send a maid with Goodfellow or one of the palace guard, as Lucy calls them. Or Lucy, come to that.” She shook her head. “He won’t. Besides, it won’t make a difference.”
Of that he had no doubt. Nothing would stop the duchess once her mind was made up. There seemed little to add to that, and a silent pause descended, the sort that can offer comfort when two people share a close bond, but this wasn’t one of those situations.
“Besides, if I choose to enjoy your company, it is none of my brother’s business,” she said sometime later.
Brynn choked on his wine and tossed about for safer conversation, latching on to compliments on the Caulfield dower house and Esther’s care of it, while devoutly wishing the dinner would be over quickly.
Lady Madelyn countered with perceptive questions about Rockford and his work. Nothing Brynn had done for the viscount to date had been particularly confidential, and she surprised him with questions related to engineering. Soon he found himself describing his military history, something he never did.
