Page 36 of Against the Wind

“I think you are well matched in more ways than that, Kit. He may not realize it yet, but I believe Martin is quite smitten. He is just what you need, ever the protector, and you are a woman worthy of his many talents.”

“No,” Kit said, looking down at her coffee and toying with her roll. “Martin is not smitten, but I am glad I made the decision to marry him all the same.”

The marchioness gave her a knowing smile and offered to help her pack. “Just allow me to feed little Henry, and I will be with you.”

Martin returned with John a few hours later, and Ormond arrived shortly thereafter. Kit was in the parlor talking to Mary when the trio joined them. Martin strode over to kiss her temple.

“Hello, Kitten. I missed you this morning.”

She gave him her sweetest smile, relieved he was not holding a grudge for their bargain.

The butler announced the luncheon would soon be ready. Mary had told them the cook was creating a feast, aware they might not encounter the same food at coaching inns on the carriage ride north, and a feast it was. A salad of oranges followed a wonderful fish soup, a magnificent roast chicken, baked ham with sauce and side dishes of roasted carrots and a ragout of celery. Dessert was a wonderful confection of poached pears in honey and a pudding with cinnamon and raisins.

As the last bit of pudding was consumed, Ormond, who had come home for the meal, herded Martin and John into his library “for port and a few words” as he put it, while Kit and Mary lingered over tea. Having eaten a bit of everything, Kit was quite sated when she went upstairs to don her traveling dress of fine green wool. Later, she and Mary rejoined the men who were discussing the trip north.

“You might catch my friend Hart at home in Derbyshire,” Ormond said to Martin. “Your destination of Pentridge is a part of his lands lying south of Chatsworth, his home. If you can call nearly a hundred thousand acres and a house as grand as a palace merely ‘a home.’”

“Hart?” repeated Martin.

“Ah, yes. You might have heard of him as the Sixth Duke of Devonshire,” said Ormond. “But since he was born the Marquess of Hartington, his family and friends have always called him Hart. He’s still a young man, only in his middle twenties.”

“Something tells me we may not be moving in those circles on this trip,” said Martin.

“Well, he is a good friend of the Prince Regent and a good friend of mine, should you have need of assistance. I’ve sent him a note to expect you without notice. Hart doesn’t stand on ceremony.”

“Now, that I will remember. One can always use a friend if things get sticky.”

“I’ve never seen the Midlands,” said John wistfully.

“That part of England is very different, very rural and not at all like London,” Martin announced. “You’ll find life much slower there.” He turned and squeezed Kit’s hand. “We had better depart if we are to put some distance between us and London this day.”

“I do wish you would wait until tomorrow to depart,” said Mary, looking concerned. “Traveling at night can be dangerous. The roads are still plagued by robbers.”

“Much as I’d like to spend another night with my new bride beneath your roof, my lady, we must away. I am anxious to get to Pentridge. Things are happening too fast for me to delay any longer…and you know I am always prepared should we encounter any difficulty.”

Mary replied, “I should have realized. How silly of me.”

“Perhaps,” Kit suggested, “I should tend to the last few things I want to take with me.”

Martin nodded. “Yes, it’s time.” Then he faced Kit, took an item from his waistcoat pocket and placed it in her hand. When she looked up at him in question, he said of the plain gold ring, “Wear it in the Midlands, Kitten. Leave your other jewelry behind.”

She nodded, wondering why, but upon reflection decided he was being wise. The gowns she would take were simple, apart from a lovely riding habit upon which Mary insisted, but none were like the finery she would leave behind.

Accepting a kiss on the cheek from her husband, Kit followed Mary upstairs. There she folded the last of her things into her small trunk and a valise, while Mary left the room for a moment, returning with the stable boy clothes Kit had worn on their one adventure.

“These might prove useful where you are traveling, Kit. I myself prefer to ride dressed as a man, though I have to be careful I am not observed by any in the ton save a few close friends. I’m already considered a hoyden. These are clothes I brought back from France. You are welcome to them.”

Kit wondered what circumstances might cause her to want to dress as a lad again, but she took the clothes all the same. “I suppose it will not hurt.”

Like John, Kit had never been to the Midlands before, but she knew of its beauty from friends who had traveled north. She was looking forward to seeing what she had heard were beautiful rolling green hills, but she was definitely not looking forward to a long carriage ride. The roads were dusty, often muddy, and returning passengers she’d spoken with complained of being tossed to and fro. Still, she would happily endure the rough ride for the sheer delight of seeing someplace new. Besides, the farther she was from Rutledge the better. Perhaps in the country, with fewer demands, there would be time for Martin and her to get to know each other.

It was late afternoon by the time the traveling coach was loaded. Mary kissed her on the cheek and bade her a safe journey. Martin handed her into the sleek black carriage pulled by a team of four black horses. He climbed in to sit beside her on the green velvet seat. John followed, taking the seat across from them. In a tender manner, Martin settled a lap robe over Kit’s knees, then signaled the coachman to depart.

At first all she saw was the city as they left the West End to take the main road north. They traveled for several hours. Kit watched the buildings and homes grow sparser until they were finally passing only countryside, and twilight overtook them. Sitting close, Martin held her hand, leaned his head back onto the seat and closed his eyes, not saying much. John entertained her with stories of his unusual family, all girls save for him.

“’Tis like having six mothers to have a mother and five older sisters. Even though they are all married now, they still treat me like I was one of their babes.”

“I don’t think you mind overmuch, John,” Kit said, not able to help the smile that crept over her face. It was easy to like him. With all those sisters, no wonder he was comfortable with women.