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The carriage turned from the rough country road onto smoother, more even streets. Not quite cobblestone as in London, but certainly an indication of a change in scenery. Buildings began to dot the view from the window, homes and businesses alike. Some villagers walked nearby, while others rode on the backs of fine horses. All were simply dressed, but not necessarily cheaply. Even from her position here, Martha could tell the difference.

None of the people paid the stagecoach any attention, no doubt accustomed to the sight and event, which certainly occurred on a near daily basis, if not more. Why should it disrupt their day and their routines? But surely, someone cared that a spoiled Society miss from London had arrived in Chippenham as punishment for being too whimsical about marriage.

It seemed like something that ought to have garnered some attention from somebody.

Alas, she was a nobody after all.

Martha Smith from London.

It wasn’t the first time that the simplicity and utter banality of her name had struck her as ironic, but it was the first time it had truly made her want to laugh.

Perhaps her mother ought to have thought of that as a detriment to her prospects.

The carriage rolled to a stop and Martha released a breath. She wasn’t entirely certain what Eliza’s husband looked like, or how he would know her, but she supposed she was the only young woman on the stagecoach in Chippenham today, which would make his chances of finding her all the greater.

“End of the road for you, miss.” One of the drivers stood at the door of the coach, offering a hand to her.

Martha nodded quickly and took his hand, allowing him to help her down. “Thank you,” she told him with a smile when she was firmly settled.

He returned her smile, seeming far younger when he did so, and tipped his cap. “Nothing of it, miss. I’ll see to your trunks.”

Martha smiled into the coach as he moved to do so. “Safe travels to the rest of you. Thank you, Mrs. Rhoades. I am indebted to you.”

Mrs. Rhoades simpered a little. “Oh, child, it was a pleasure. I’m just down the way in Melksham if ever you need. Write to me, won’t you? I must know how you get on.”

“Of course.” Martha curtseyed with all politeness, then turned to remove herself from the road, now giving in to the temptation to bite her lip as her nerves flew into a frenzy in her stomach. She was here, wherever here was, and now she must wait.

But for how long?

“Miss Smith?”

She exhaled sharply, turning to her left. A tall man in plain clothing and a worn hat approached, smiling as though she were familiar, but more than that, as though she were a welcome sight. “Yes?”

He chuckled, sweeping his hat from his head, revealing dark hair speckled with bits of silver. “I don’t expect you to remember me, as you were just a child at the wedding, but there would be no forgetting those eyes of yours. Palest green I’ve ever seen, then or since. George Cummings, Miss Smith.” He bowed quickly, then raised a brow. “May I call you Martha?”

She liked him instantly. “I insist you do, Mr. Cummings. And now that I see you, I do find you familiar. Did you chase me around a table in my aunt’s library?”

Mr. Cummings chortled heartily, replacing his hat upon his head. “Indeed I did, and you chased me back. Quite a ruckus we made, and your aunt did not find it nearly as amusing as we did.”

“That is not at all surprising.” Martha sighed happily, clasping her hands. “I confess, I am relieved to see you, Mr. Cummings. And to be here. Is it far to Lanfare?”

“I’m afraid we’ve two miles to go yet before we find ourselves there. We’re settled just outside Allington, but it’s an easy ride, and I’ve brought the best wagon.” He looked almost sheepish as he said so. “It’s not so fine a transport as you’ll be used to, I know, but it is still comfortable for the shorter journeys.”

Martha smiled with all the warmth and fondness one could possibly find on so short a reacquaintance. “Mr. Cummings, I shall be delighted to ride to Lanfare with you, no matter which wagon you have brought. I’ll bump along in the back of it, if there’s no room at the front.”

Mr. Cummings beamed and nodded with apparent approval, if not outright cheer. “There’s room at the front, Martha, make no mistake. Though I’ve a steady hand, and you’d not feel a single dip in the road as I drove, were you to sit in the back.”

She laughed at the boast and took his arm without shame. “Excellent. I want to sit where I can see and hear everything, and plague you with questions until you tire of my company.”

“I have ten children, Martha. I no longer tire of company, and questions no longer plague me.”