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‘Did a horse and rider leave early this morning?’
‘Yes. Robert, the Breville groom. Asked to borrow one of your hacks. I didn’t want to bother ye so said he could take Meg.’
‘And did you see who rode off on the mare?’
‘Only saw a cove in Breville livery. I thought he’d be needed back in town for some reason. Didn’t enquire further.’
‘Was this rider alone?’
‘Yessir. Shall I fetch Robert?’
‘If you please, Rocky. And harness the two bays to my curricle.’
The wise face looked concerned. ‘Don’t look to me like you’ve had much sleep, sir. Shall I accompany ye?’
‘No, I’ll be fine. I just need some more useful clothes. I’ll be back in ten minutes. If I can see the Breville groom then?’
* * *
The early summer sun was already over the horizon when Ivor Asprey set off up the drive. The clouds hung low and the damp air was heavy, the light dull and diffuse. Usually he would like nothing better than setting out with his favourite prancers for a drive where no one could make demands on him. It was a rare enough respite. But he was anxious and lack of sleep made his emotions more volatile than he liked. He joined the traffic on the main road. The Breville groom had told him Miss Leigh was the mystery rider. Although he knew she had about two hours’ advantage he could not stop himself from scanning the horses ahead, expecting one of the riders to be her.
Ivor knew he could drive his bays at quite a pace for a mile or so before slackening them off to rest. He had paid a great deal for this beautiful pair, buying them from a friend embarrassed by gambling debts. Despite his exhaustion he could not deny the exhilaration in travelling at speed, overtaking every cart and carriage on the highway. His youthful spirit had been awoken by Angelica Leigh and for a short while he could give it its head.
After half an hour he reined his horses in from a canter to a trot. The exhilaration had dispersed and fatigue and exasperation at the reason for this wild goose chase seeped into his soul. What a headstrong woman to take off without a word! Responsible as he was for his guests, Miss Leigh had given him little choice but to hare off after her once she’d taken flight, with what cause he had yet to fully discover. Away from her he found himself longing to return to his old life of unruffled emotions and undiluted work. But the unsettling presence of this enchantress seemed to disperse every good sense and rouse all the animal spirits of old.
As he entered the boundary of the village of Chiswick on the River Thames he noticed an oddly dressed figure standing rather forlorn, with his own chestnut horse beside her. All his new determination to close his heart again dissolved in the presence of her siren self.
* * *
Angelica’s low mood seemed to have been transmitted to her horse. Her hands were slack on the reins as Meg stumbled occasionally in the ruts of the ill-kept road, her head down. Angelica was so nearly asleep she wondered if she ought to dismount and walk for a while, but before she could think any further Meg had stepped into a pothole and, caught off-balance, fallen to her knees. Half asleep and inattentive, Angelica was thrown off over her neck. Even in that split second she knew to protect her head and landed instead on a shoulder, saved from the full impact by the padding in her oversized jacket.
She scrambled unsteadily to her feet, picked up her hat that had tumbled to the ground and quickly crammed it back over her increasingly unruly hair. She was shocked, but unaware as yet of any pain. Meg, however, was not so fortunate. As the horse struggled to stand, it was immediately clear that her knees were grazed and bruised. Angelica led her to the verge, watching her gait closely. She walked unevenly and was stiff. Angelica ran her hand from knee to fetlock and as the horse trembled under her touch she realised she was lame and could not be ridden any further. She dropped Meg’s reins to allow her to crop the grass and she herself sat down to think what best to do.
Her right shoulder had begun to throb. She slipped a hand gingerly inside her jacket and ran her fingers along her collarbone to her shoulder joint to see if anything felt broken or out of shape. She was so tired she just wanted to lie back on the grassy knoll in the shade of a lime tree and give herself up to sleep, but she knew that would not get her home; instead, both horse and rider would have to limp on as best they could for the six miles or so to Berkeley Square.
Wearily, Angelica got to her feet. She collected Meg’s reins in her left hand and coaxed her away from the grass. They began walking, along with the motley collection of pedestrians heading for London and work in the glass and metal foundries, the workshops, market gardens and midden pits that served a growing metropolis. She plodded on in the footsteps of a laundrywoman carrying laundered sheets in a bag on her back.
By now it was close to six o’clock in the morning and Angelica estimated she would not be home for another two hours. She was sorry to have left in such a hurry with only enough money for the tolls, for hunger was joining with fatigue and the pain of her shoulder to make her feel nauseous and slightly unsteady on her feet. They were overtaken by a cart carrying loaves and pastries to deliver to the gentry and the smell of new-baked bread that wafted in its wake almost made her swoon. Angelica rubbed her temples in an attempt to keep awake and was shocked to see her hand with a smear of blood. She must have grazed her face when she hit the ground.
The road began to follow the River Thames and the fresher air and endless activity of every size and type of boat on this great watery thoroughfare helped distract her. Meg also seemed to have perked up. She was still lame and her right knee and fetlock appeared swollen but she walked beside Angelica gazing with her upon the mighty river and the mudlarks who collected what bounty they could scavenge from the water’s edge. As a bedraggled Angelica and her lame horse approached the village of Chiswick, she saw a wooden signpost for St Nicholas Church and stopped for a moment to survey the ancient tower.
* * *
Angelica was aware of the scrunch of wheels very close as a curricle pulled up beside her. She noticed first the beauty of the matched bays, then looked up to see a familiar figure leap from the driving seat. Surprise and relief drained the last shreds of energy from her. ‘Mr Asprey, what are you doing here?’ She leant against Meg for support.
He was by her side looking weary. ‘I might ask you the same thing, Miss Leigh?’
Hardly believing he had arrived when most needed, it nevertheless shamed her that it was becoming a habit, but at that moment it was one for which she was profoundly grateful. Relief swamped more uncomfortable emotions, for she had sworn to herself she would not involve him any more in the scandals of her life. Angelica looked up to meet his enquiring gaze. ‘I had to get home quickly and could not wait until morning,’ she muttered in some embarrassment. ‘But you didn’t have to follow me.’
‘You wonder why I’m here, foregoing sleep to embark on a wild goose chase to try and find you? If a guest goes missing from my house in the middle of the night it would be remiss not to investigate further, would you not agree?’
His stern line of questioning was abandoned as he noticed with consternation the damage to her face. ‘What has happened to you? You look like you’ve been brawling. This isn’t why you left is it?’ Ivor took both her elbows so he could examine the damage more closely. Angelica winced and cried out. He let go of her in an instant. ‘What’s injured?’ His voice was urgent.
‘I don’t know. Meg stumbled in a pothole and I came off her back. I don’t think I’ve done any serious damage to my shoulder.’
He gazed down the road and said in a voice that brooked no demur, ‘The Burlington Arms is just a hundred yards further. We can get some refreshment and the horse some care. I know the grooms there, they’ll look after Meg until Rocky sends someone to collect her.’ Mr Asprey tied the reins to the back of his curricle and, aware that Angelica could not use her right arm to pull herself up, placed his hands round her waist and lifted her into the seat with great care. He then sprang up beside her.
Glancing at his face, Angelica noticed a curl of amusement round his mouth. Without turning towards her he said, ‘You look the most disreputable groom I have ever seen. Your nose is grazed, your forehead raw and that unlikely blue hair is coming undone. Your livery is so ill-fitting it’s practically falling off. What self-respecting groom would be seen in public like that?’ He laughed. ‘I wonder what damage it does to my reputation being seen in such company!’
