The Husband Season

by Mary Nichols

‘I wish I could. I do not know when and where it is to be. And the hotheads will not listen, either.’

  ‘And you are pig in the middle.’

  He smiled. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘Is that how you received your injuries?’

  ‘Injuries? You mean this?’ He pointed to the eyepatch.

  ‘Yes, and other injuries not quite so obvious. I noticed you flinch when that ostler bumped into you when we stopped to change the horses, and you wriggle in your seat as if you find it difficult to be comfortable.’

  ‘You are very observant.’

  ‘Teddy was always injuring himself when he was young and pretending it was nothing. I learned the signs.’

  ‘I was set upon by thieves. I do not think it had anything to do with my mission to London.’

  ‘I am sorry, my lord.’

  ‘No need to be. I’ll live.’ He gave her a quirky smile, which made her heart flip. The more she learned about him, the more she loved him, if that were possible. He cared about people, especially those for whom he felt responsible. He was thoughtful and generous. Who else would have paid Teddy’s debts? Certainly not Reggie or Richard Fanshawe, and Lord Gorange had only offered to do so on a consideration.

  ‘You missed Cassie’s come-out ball on account of it.’

  ‘Yes, that is to be regretted. Was it a lively affair?’

  ‘Yes. Everyone was in good spirits. The music was good and the food excellent. You were missed.’

  ‘By you?’

  ‘By everyone, particularly Cassie,’ she said quickly.

  ‘Then perhaps it was as well I did not go. I would not want to raise false hopes. Miss Malthouse will no doubt soon find someone else.’

  So Cassie was to be disappointed. It seemed he really meant to keep his vow not to remarry.

  The horses were slowing for their next stop where they planned to have something to eat and drink. Bessie, helped down from the box by the jovial coachman, joined them for their meal and personal conversation was set aside. Less than an hour later they were on their way again, but this time Bessie rode inside.

  Talk was desultory and for the most part consisted of Bessie, prompted by Sophie, telling them what she and the coachman had talked about and what she had viewed from her seat beside him. Adam showed no sign of being bored and listened with grave attention, even putting in a comment of his own now and again. Thus the journey continued, during which they stopped several times to change the horses. They reached the Cross Keys in Saffron Walden as dusk began to fall, late at that time of the year, and there Alfred Farley was waiting for them with bedchambers booked.

  They all dined together, master and man, mistress and maid, and it did not seem to matter. Their coachman found convivial company elsewhere. Sophie was used to sharing with Bessie, but she was surprised that Adam was so easy with Mr Farley. He was not uncouth, but rough and ready and seemed to enjoy more than the usual rapport of master and man with the viscount. It was one more indication of his lordship’s character, she decided.

  * * *

  As soon as the meal ended, Sophie and Bessie went up to the bedchamber they were to share and left the men enjoying tankards of ale.

  ‘Did you have any trouble on the way, my lord?’ Farley asked.

  ‘No, everything went smoothly, thanks to you. But I did wonder if we were being followed. I could hear hoofbeats behind us on some of the harder roads. When we stopped to allow Miss Cavenhurst’s maid to step down, they stopped, too, and resumed as soon as we were on our way again.’

  ‘Did they follow you into the yard here?’

  ‘No, I do not think so. Perhaps I imagined it.’

  ‘Could be the cove who was dogging you in the Smoke.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘I have no idea, my lord, but it seems someone is very curious to know what you are about.’

  ‘I am not doing anything clandestine.’

  ‘No, but he is.’

  ‘Have you booked our change of horses for the rest of the way?’

  ‘Yes, my lord, as far as Downham Market. The last four cattle should take you to Hadlea, if not hurried.’

  ‘Good. How did you find the mare? Was she up to it?’

  ‘Yes, my lord. She is a goer, I’ll give you that.’

  ‘You did not press her too hard?’

  ‘No, my lord. I left her at an inn for a couple of stages and hired a hack so that she could rest. I picked her up again on the way back, just as you instructed. She is in fine fettle.’

  ‘Then follow on behind tomorrow, and if you should notice anyone taking more than a casual interest in us, come and tell me. I do not need to warn you to say nothing of our follower to the ladies, do I?’

  ‘No, my lord, certainly not.’

  ‘Better go to bed now. We still have a long way to go. I’ll see to myself.’

  ‘Very good, my lord.’ Farley rose stiffly, evidence of his long hours in the saddle. Adam smiled as he watched him mount the stairs, hauling on the banister to help him up. He would go a long way before he found a man as willing and loyal as Alfred Farley. He was a good man to have at his side in a sticky situation.

  Whether they were truly in a sticky situation, he did not know. But if there were someone following them, was it the same someone who had followed him back to Wyndham House two nights before and cheekily saluted him from the road? What on earth could he want? He didn’t think it was anything to do with Teddy Cavenhurst or Sophie, but it would be good to be sure. He rose and went up to his bedroom, but before he climbed into bed, he primed his pistol and checked his ammunition.

  * * *

  The journey next day continued as the day before with casual conversation and frequent stops to change the horses. Sophie was amused to see that Farley was riding Swift and was keeping close behind them. Occasionally he rode off somewhere, but soon returned and took up his place behind them. Poor man, it must be very tiring for him. Adam was sitting opposite her again, his legs uncomfortably squashed.

  ‘I see your man is riding Swift,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, it is one way to transport the animal, and he had to ride on ahead to arrange for horses to be ready. I did not want to leave it to chance.’

  ‘It must have been uncomfortable riding all day. I noticed him walking rather stiffly when he dismounted at the last stop.’

  ‘Yes, so did I. I will take a turn riding shortly and he can sit beside the coachman.’

  * * *

  At the next change of horses he took over the riding and Farley rode on the box, leaving Sophie and Bessie in possession of the interior of the carriage. The air was stifling and Sophie could see Bessie was suffering. ‘We will stop again soon,’ she said. ‘And I will ask his lordship if we can spare a little time so that you may go into the inn and have a cold drink and rest in the shade.’

  ‘We must not delay him,’ the maid said. ‘You know how cross he was last time.’

  ‘He can be as cross as he likes. I shall insist.’

  ‘Oh, dear, I am sorry to be so much trouble to you.’

  ‘You are not half as much trouble to me as I have been to you, Bessie, so do not think of it.’

  ‘I wish the weather would cool down, then I should be more comfortable.’

  * * *

  They had not gone much farther when her wish was granted. The sun was blocked out by dark clouds rolling in from the north and the interior of the carriage became almost as dark as night. ‘It is going to rain,’ Sophie said. ‘That will cool us all down.’ As she spoke they saw a flash of lightning and seconds afterwards a rumble of thunder.

  Adam, who was riding behind, called the coachman to stop. He dismounted and tied Swift on behind the carriage. ‘Alfred, into the carriage with you,’ he said. Then to the coachman, who was ev
en then putting on a heavy overcoat with several capes, ‘Can you keep going?’

  ‘Aye, my lord, though the horses might get a bit skittish.’ A sheet of lightning lit the sky as he spoke and the thunder seemed nearer. The horses moved restlessly.

  ‘In that case find somewhere where we can shelter, an inn or a farm building. Not trees.’

  ‘I do know better’n that,’ he said, miffed.

  Adam joined his servant and the ladies in the carriage, doubling himself up to leave them adequate room. Bessie was shivering now, not so much with cold but fear. She had always been terrified of thunderstorms and would always go round the house when one threatened, covering all the mirrors and making sure any cutlery was safely in drawers. There was no cutlery or mirrors in the coach, but the horses were definitely nervous. They were galloping at a cracking pace and they could hear the coachman calling out, trying to calm them. To make matters worse, rain was beating on the roof in a loud tattoo. Bessie threw her shawl over her head and even Sophie was uneasy as the carriage lurched from side to side. Suddenly they swung into a farmyard, turned into an open-sided barn and pulled to a sudden stop. Sophie was catapulted into Adam’s lap.

  Instinctively he grabbed her. She found her head against his chest and his arms enfolding her. She could feel the regular beat of his heart and tilted her head up to look at his face. He was smiling. ‘Much as I would like to savour the moment, I fear I have to let you go,’ he murmured in her ear. ‘I must help with the horses.’

  She scrambled inelegantly off his knees and returned to her seat, her face on fire. He left the coach followed by Farley and she decided to go, too, and help. Swift, with no one on her back, had had no trouble keeping up with the carriage, but she was shivering and her eyes were wide with terror. Sophie went to calm her, holding her head and murmuring softly in her ear, ‘Easy now, my beauty. Easy. It will soon be over.’ Outside the rain beat down and the farmyard was soon awash. The mare became calmer, but she still shook when thunder rolled.

  Adam, aware that Sophie knew what she was doing, left Swift to her and concentrated on the carriage horses. It took the combined efforts of the three men to stop them rearing every time lightning lit up the gloom in the barn. There was a haywain piled with hay at the far end. Adam pulled a few handfuls from it to give to the horses, and Sophie filled a nosebag for Swift.

  They heard a dog barking and turned as a large mongrel ran into the barn and stopped to growl, baring his teeth. He was closely followed by a stout man in fustian coat and breeches, wearing a sack over his shoulders. His broad-brimmed hat was dripping rain from the brim. ‘What d’yer think you’re a-doin’?’ he demanded angrily.

  Adam went forward. ‘Good day, sir. I’d be obliged if you would call off your dog. He is frightening the horses. I fear they will lash out and do some damage.’

  ‘They’d best not,’ he said, but he called the dog to heel. It went to him obediently, but remained alert.

  ‘Are you the owner of this barn?’ Adam asked him.

  ‘The tenant. What are you doing here? And stealing my hay, an’ all. I’ll hev the law on yer.’

  ‘We will pay for it, of course. I am afraid our horses were terrified by the storm and we thought it best to seek shelter. We will move on as soon as the weather eases.’

  ‘Tha’s all very well, but if you’ve damaged anythin’...’

  ‘I am sure we have not, except to bring a little mud in on the wheels. Naturally I will pay for the inconvenience.’

  ‘And who might you be?’

  ‘Viscount Kimberley of Saddleworth. This is...’ he indicated Sophie still holding Swift’s head ‘...my cousin, Miss Cavenhurst. We are travelling to Norfolk.’

  ‘I doubt you will get there tonight,’ the man said. ‘Never seen a storm like it and the roads are awash. Shouldn’t be surprised if the river hev burst its banks.’

  ‘Until we are able to move on, do you think you could provide us with some food and something to drink?’ Adam appeared unruffled by this news. ‘We had planned to stop at the Rutland Arms in Newmarket for a meal, but if you are right, we might take some time reaching there.’

  ‘I’ll go and talk to the missus.’ He stomped out into the rain, followed by his dog.

  ‘Do you think he is right?’ Sophie asked Adam. ‘Will the river have flooded?’

  ‘I don’t know. When the rain stops I’ll go and reconnoitre.’ He turned to the coachman. ‘In the meantime, unharness the horses, will you, Mr Brandon? Let them have a rest. Give him a hand, Alfred, will you?’

  While the two men obeyed, Adam went to the door and looked up at the leaden sky. The wind, which had blown the clouds up so rapidly, had dropped and there was not a breath to carry them away. The rain was pounding on the roof of the barn and filling up the dents and hollows in the farm yard until it looked like a pond. Thankfully the building was watertight, but he was aware of a sharp drop in the temperature and the ladies were shivering, especially Sophie because she had draped her shawl over Swift’s back.

  ‘Put your shawl back on, Miss Cavenhurst,’ he told her. ‘You need it more than the mare.’

  ‘Would you address a cousin so formally?’ she asked.

  ‘You are not really my cousin.’

  ‘But you told the farmer I was.’

  ‘It was easier than trying to explain.’

  She smiled. ‘Then it had better be Sophie, don’t you think?’

  He laughed aloud. ‘Sophie,’ he said. ‘But for that to be convincing I must be Adam.’

  She had been thinking of him in those terms for some time, though she had never uttered his name aloud. ‘Very well...Adam.’

  The farmer returned, carrying a rough cloth coat and a pile of sacks. ‘Will you come up to the house, my lord?’ he said, handing Sophie the coat and distributing the sacks to the others. ‘My Molly is making a meal for you. If you follow me, I’ll lead you over the driest bits.’

  As far as Sophie could see there were no dry bits. She draped the coat over her head, which was thick enough to keep off the worst of the rain. She went to step outside, knowing she would get wet feet, but before she could do so, Adam had scooped her up in his arms and was carrying her. ‘My lord...’

  ‘Adam,’ he corrected her, marching behind the farmer. ‘I am wearing boots, you are not, so no argument.’ Joe, who was also wearing stout boots, had taken his cue from Adam and picked Bessie up and, despite her not-very-convincing protests, was right behind them.

  Sophie clasped her arms about Adam’s neck and leaned into him. He had a lean, hard body, broad shoulders and narrow hips. She could feel his muscles flexed beneath his clothes and wondered idly what he would look like stripped. She remembered his bruises, but either they had healed remarkably quickly or he was able to ignore the pain. ‘Now who is savouring the moment,’ she murmured under her breath.

  He chuckled. ‘I am. It is surprising how appealing a wet face and a fusty overcoat can be.’

  She had not realised she had spoken loud enough for him to hear, and the glow in the core of her intensified. The warmth of his body enveloped her, the smell of him, a mixture of soap and horse and honest sweat, filled her nostrils. Her heartbeat tuned itself to his. She felt moulded to him, two bodies in one. It was such a lovely sensation she gave herself up to it. But not for long because they were at the door of the farmhouse and Adam was being ushered inside by the farmer. Adam set her down and they were two separate beings once more. He took the coat from her shoulders and handed it back to the farmer.

  ‘Come this way, my lord,’ the man said, leading the way along a narrow passage into a room that was evidently the best parlour. It felt cold and smelled musty as if it were little used. There were two stuffed winged chairs before an empty grate, a rather battered sofa, a couple of hard-backed chairs and a table. A shelf displayed cheap ornaments, and there was an embro
idered text hanging from a nail above the mantel.

  Bessie was shivering violently and Sophie feared she had caught a chill. She turned to the farmer. ‘Mr...what is your name?’

  ‘Brown, my lady.’

  ‘Mr Brown,’ she said, ignoring his mistake. ‘I fear my maid is not very well. Do you think she could sit by your fire and warm herself? A hot drink might help, too.’

  ‘We would all appreciate a hot drink,’ Adam said. ‘But look after the maid first.’

  ‘Come, miss,’ the man said, addressing Bessie.

  She glanced at Sophie, who nodded. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’ll go, too,’ Joe said. He went after the farmer and Bessie, leaving Adam and Sophie alone.

  ‘Where is Mr Farley?’ she asked.

  ‘He is checking the carriage and horses are out of sight of the road. It would be a trifle inconvenient to find them gone when we want to continue our journey.’

  ‘Who is likely to be on the road in this?’ She gestured towards the window where the rain was running down in rivulets.

  ‘If someone was on foot or on horseback, the prospect of riding in the dry might be too much of a temptation.’

  ‘Surely it is the coachman’s task to see that doesn’t happen?’

  ‘Yes, but at the moment, he seems to have his hands full with Miss Sadler.’

  She laughed. ‘They do seem rather keen on each other.’

  ‘It is your fault for suggesting she ride on the box.’

  ‘She was feeling sick and you were chafing at the delay. What else would you have me do?’

  ‘Oh, I am not criticising you, simply pointing out a fact. And the delay of a few minutes is immaterial now. We are going to be hours behind schedule, and I am afraid even if we start out at once we will be forced to have another night on the road.’

  ‘It is still raining, but the thunder and lightning have passed.’

  ‘I had noticed that,’ he said laconically. ‘As soon as we have had something to eat, I will ride ahead on Swift and reconnoitre the ground.’

  ‘Why not send Mr Farley?’

  ‘Because he will want to eat and drink and warm himself.’