“A wedding!” Curiosity replaced the suspicion in Mrs. Hindon’s pale eyes. “Bride or groom’s side?”
“Um, bride,” Caroline managed. “In Edinburgh. My sister is marrying an English soldier stationed there, you see—a captain.” The romantic story sprang fully formed to her mind. “He’s very handsome, and my sister is so very happy.” Everyone was staring at her with rapt fascination. She took a breath, ready to add the next chapter, but the coach hit another bump.
“That was a bad one!” Brill and Scroop said together, and Mrs. Hindon giggled.
“You’d best pick flowers for the wedding on this side of the border. Nothing grows in Scotland. Scots eat mutton, and the mutton eats everything else. It’s a barren place where the sun never shines,” Brill said.
“God’s blight upon a heathen land,” intoned the clergyman.
Miss Best whimpered again and clasped her gloved hands together tightly, as if she were praying.
The coach pitched like a ship on stormy seas as the horses turned into a muddy inn yard. Mrs. Hindon whooped as she was thrown against Miss Best. Scroop grunted as Mr. Brill’s elbow knocked his Latin history to the floor. Caroline clung to the seat.
The passengers sighed as the coach came to a halt, righting bonnets and hats as they descended from the vehicle, blinking at the late afternoon sun and stretching cramped muscles.
Miss Best picked up her skirts and hurried into the inn, and Caroline followed, with Mrs. Hindon coming behind, picking her way through the mud like a fussy hen, complaining loudly about the ruination of her half boots.
Caroline’s stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten a proper meal since supper the night before last at Somerson House. How far away it seemed now, a place just as foreign as Scotland. Was her half brother looking for her? She glanced around the low-ceilinged inn, scanning the faces of the inhabitants, but they stared back dully, with little interest in who she might be.
“When is the next mail coach going south?” Miss Best was asking the innkeeper. “I wish to purchase a ticket!” she said.
“But you just got off the London Mail!” he said in surprise.
“I’ve changed my mind! I want to go back to London this very minute,” she said desperately, an edge of panic in her voice.
Caroline caught her sleeve. “Oh, Miss Best, I’m sure Scotland isn’t nearly as bad as they say!”
Miss Best blinked away tears, and snatched her arm out of Caroline’s grip. “How would you know? You said you’ve never even been there!”
“But—” Caroline began.
“Do you want the ticket or not?” the innkeeper said.
“What doyouknow of Scotland?” the girl asked him.
“It isn’t England,” he said cryptically.
“Then I’ll take the ticket!” Miss Best opened her reticule to retrieve her money. The letter fell out, and Caroline stared at it, white paper against the aged black boards of the floor. Coins rang on the wooden bar, and Miss Best snatched up her ticket and turned away.
“Wait, your letter!” Caroline said, bending to pick it up.
The girl backed away from it as if it were poisoned. “I don’t want it!” she said. “Burn it!”
With that, Miss Louisa Best fled into the ladies’ waiting room without a backward glance.
Caroline felt the letter tingle in her gloveless fingers. She glanced down at the cracked seal. Was that a lion or a bear? She couldn’t read the name, or the motto. She unfolded it.
I am pleased to offer you the post of governess at the sum of seven pounds per year, plus your room and board here at Glenlorne Castle. You will be responsible for teaching English to my three daughters, aged eighteen, seventeen, and twelve, as well as advising them on English manners and dress. We shall expect you at Glenlorne by the first of the month.
The letter was signed by the Countess of Glenlorne.
“Glenlorne,” Caroline whispered. It was a destination, a respectable paying job with a mother and three daughters. The countess wanted someone to teach English and manners. Who better than an English earl’s daughter?
She opened the Scotsman’s purse, and reached for a coin to pay for a meat pie and a cup of tea, feeling hope soar in her breast. She silently thanked her unknown benefactor once again, and the imaginary face in her mind’s eyes smiled, his hazel eyes twinkling as his red-gold locks floated on a fresh Highland breeze.
Her heart lifted a little. This was an adventure, an opportunity, a true tale to tell her children and grandchildren, and Caroline wasn’t about to be as foolish as Miss Best and turn back now.
In her mind, her Scottish hero chuckled, a warm, low, seductive sound. His blue eyes twinkled and a lock of blond hair feathered across his broad brow as he held out his hand to her.
