“You’d best eat it before Mr. Dog gets a hold of it.” He placed one of the pastries onto a napkin and set it into her lap. “What exactly does it imply, Princ—Aubrey?”
“Argh!” Her exasperation got the better of her as she picked up the pastry and tore a not so ladylike bite off with her teeth. She didn’t want to have this discussion. She’d agreed that they were nothing more than friends.
So why did he have to look at her as though she was the pastry, at times? Why did he have to tease her? Why had he held her in his arms yesterday morning?
Why was he even here? He could have acquired a mount at any number of stops they’d made along the way by now.
“You will not answer? You do not wish to explain, eh?” She had his full attention right now and she wasn’t certain that she wanted it.
“It implies that you… like me in a certain way—that you... want me. Perhaps it means nothing to other ladies of your acquaintance. Perhaps they realize that you are nothing more than a ridiculous flirt. But I am not like other ladies. I thought that… And then I kissed you… And now. If you are so repulsed by me. If you see me as some sort of little sister to watch out for, I’d appreciate it if you refrain from your teasing behavior for the remainder of our journey. I’ve already made enough of a cake myself. I—“
He’d turned so abruptly to face her that Mr. Dog hopped off the bench and onto the floor.
“Mon dieu, you think that I see you as a little sister?” He was almost shaking as he ground out the words. “I only wish that was the case! Repulsed by you? Do you think you were the only one affected by that kiss? It took every ounce of restraint that I have to keep myself from taking you that night. I wanted nothing more than keep on kissing you—everywhere. To taste every inch of your skin and then bury myself deep inside of you! And not merely because you are très belle, not because of your beauty. I want to make you mine so that I can have a part of your soul. There is a hope inside of you that I haven’t felt in years. I want to make it mine; I want to make you mine…”
He leaned so close to her now that she felt his breath on her lips. He wasn’t touching her and yet she felt him everywhere.
“Then why?” She whispered.
He ran a hand through his hair and sat back a few inches. “If things were different… I cannot because… The timing. It is all wrong.”
And again, he told her absolutely nothing.
She went to drop her gaze, but he reached out to tilt her chin up, not allowing her to look at anything but him. “Do not doubt how much I want you. But I want all of you, and it wouldn’t be fair of me…” He blinked, his eyes appearing brighter than usual. “But you are my Princesse, non? Even if we will say goodbye soon?”
She nodded, wishing he’d kiss her. Wishing he’d share more of his troubles with her. But she did not press. If he wanted to tell her his reasons than he would have.
She gave him a half smile and that seemed to satisfy him.
This time when he reached for her, pulling her into his arms, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. This was where she belonged. She didn’t understand what was holding him back, but she no longer was angry with him. Whatever it was, he had no control over it.
She covered his arm around her with her own and he moved so that their fingers entwined. He seemed to need this connection as much as she did.
Neither of them said much of anything for the next few hours. This silence wasn’t filled with tension, however, it seemed they’d released all of that in the admissions they’d made to one another earlier. This time the silence was peaceful, accepting, comforting in an odd sort of way.
Nothing more could be said really, to change anything, and yet there were no misunderstandings between them.
When the carriage lurched and then jerked to a halt, Aubrey would have fallen off the bench if Mr. Bateman hadn’t been holding her. Mr. Daniels cursing sounds carried easily to her ears and with a wince, Mr. Bateman squeezed her hand and opened the door. He assisted her onto the ground and then walked around to have a look at the wheel.
“It’s broke clean through this time,” she easily overheard Mr. Daniels complaining. “And we passed the nearest village an hour ago. I knew we should remain on the main road, but no, the widow had to see a bunch of rocks piled about…”
This road had seemed less traveled. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d passed another vehicle. Aubrey stretched and glanced around at their surroundings. She hadn’t realized that clouds had gathered and hovered low in the sky. Smoke rose from the chimney of a farmhouse that wasn’t far off and she felt encouraged to see two people approach.
“Hello!” She waved across the field.
Mr. Daniels and Mr. Bateman caught sight as well, of the farmer who was lumbering toward them with a friendly expression. “Heard the crack clear up by the house.” The man wore work clothing. His weathered face made it difficult to tell his age, which Aubrey guessed could be anywhere between forty and sixty.
A heavyset woman wearing an apron followed him at a slower pace. Aubrey guessed the couple didn’t get many visitors, situated in such an isolated location.
“Halloo!” the short ungainly woman waved back, appearing even more cheerful than the farmer. “Welcome!”
“I’m Bart Wooten.” The man extended his hand to Mr. Bateman and then to Mr. Daniels. “And this here is the missus.”
“Pleasure to meet you, sir, ma’am.” This from Mr. Bateman. Mr. Daniels shook the farmer’s hand grudgingly. “We’ve run into a bit of trouble, as I’m sure you’ve guessed.”
The farmer had stepped back to inspect the wheel, all the while chewing on a piece of straw. “That you have indeed. That you have. It looks like you’re will need a new one, too. No repairing something as far gone as this one.”
Aubrey peered down at it as well. The wheel appeared as though the weight of the carriage itself had caused it to crumple into two pieces.
“Not to worry.” Mrs. Wooten spoke up, “Mr. Wooten can give your driver a lift into Joseph’s Well.”
“Joseph’s Well?” Aubrey asked.
Mrs. Wooten laughed. “It what we call our little village. It’s not much. We have a church, a mercantile and of course, a tap room.”
“If anyone can help you get that coach rolling again, it will be Mr. Finch. He owns the mill. We’ll have to track him down though,” Mr. Wooten added.
“And if we can’t get on the road again today? There is an inn?” The clouds were dark and thick, and Aubrey didn’t relish the notion of sleeping outside again, especially if it could rain.
“No inn for miles.” But the woman smiled. “Never fear, dear, Mr. Wooten and I have an extra room for you and your husband, don’t we, Bart?”
“We sure do. Good thing too as you’ll be lucky to be on the road tomorrow, if then. Especially with the festival taking place this evening.”
“Oh but—” Aubrey began.
“That’s very kind of you.” Mr. Bateman placed one arm around Aubrey, speaking over her before she could correct the kind woman’s assumption. “Isn’t it, Princesse?”
Aubrey glanced to where Mr. Daniels was grousing about the wheel, oblivious to their conversation, and then back at Mrs. Wooten. Of course, the countrified couple wouldn’t be nearly so hospitable to a woman traveling alone with a gentleman who was not her husband or brother.
“Er, yes. Thank you.”
“Why don’t you collect your valise, dearie, and come up for a spot of tea while the men work all this nasty business out. And bring your darling dog.”
Aubrey stepped out of Mr. Bateman’s arm, with a questioning glance over her shoulder.
“I’ll bring our belongings, Princesse. You join Mrs. Wooten for tea. Mr. Dog will be wanting a drink as well, I imagine.”
Aubrey bit her lip, uncomfortable with the lie but understanding why he’d gone along with the woman’s misunderstanding.
“If you’re certain? Come along, Mr. Dog.” Aubrey tugged at the l
eading string. Tea did sound heavenly.
“Are you hungry dear? I just pulled two loaves of bread out of the oven. I’m so glad for a spot of company. Haven’t had any visitors since my niece and her husband came through last year. Mr. Wooten and I weren’t so blessed as to have children ourselves…” Mrs. Wooten suffered no shortage of conversation, that was for certain. “What of you and your husband? Mr. Bateman, is that right? Do the two of you have any children?”
Aubrey simply shook her head, glancing toward where Mr. Bateman watched her with laughter in those blue eyes of his. Of course, he would find humor in this situation. Searching for some satisfying explanation for their childlessness, without having to garner any unwarranted sympathy from their hostess, Aubrey searched her mind quickly.
“Mr. Bateman and I are newlyweds.” She spoke loudly enough so that he would hear her. His smile widened. The blighter would, of course, enjoy such a joke.
“Is that so?” Mrs. Wooten gushed.
“Yes, erm… We married little over a week ago!” Aubrey invented. “In the church where I grew up, St. Marks, in Rockford Beach.” And then her imagination took hold. “The pews were filled with family members that traveled from all of England for the occasion, so many that I hardly had a chance to speak with them all. And afterward, Mr. Bateman’s mother hosted a delicious wedding breakfast in the town assembly room. I’ll never forget it,” she blushed as she looked back to where Mr. Bateman watched her, brows raised. “Happiest day of my life.” If she was going to be married, she would at least do it her way this time.
She and Harrison had married in his parlor with her mother and his solicitor for witnesses. It had been nothing more than a business transaction, or so she had thought at the time.
“I’ll join you soon, my love!” Mr. Bateman shouted at her from behind. She didn’t quite have the courage to blow him a kiss. That would be doing it up a bit too much. Instead, blushing, she turned and lifted her hand in a quick wave.
“Oh, isn’t he handsome, though?” Mrs. Wooten chuckled. “To be young again.”
Chapter 11
Aubrey
Aubrey was torn between enjoying Mrs. Wooten’s company and feeling guilty over the lie they’d perpetuated. In the end, she didn’t really have to worry one way or the other as it took all her concentration to keep up with the woman’s ongoing conversation… About the weather, the festival they must all attend together that evening, and how she was certain her jam would win the canning contest. She’d not won in previous years because Mr. Frost, the deciding judge, had not been immune to Mrs. Baxter, the hussy. The jackanapes wouldn’t be a problem this year, she’d explained with a wink, as he’d passed over the winter. “Died in his sleep and it was about time. Ninety years on God’s earth is more than enough for any single person, especially one who cheats and lies.”
“Mrs. Wooten, ma’am?” Mr. Bateman peeked into the kitchen. “Your husband is taking our driver into the village. He said you would show me the horse cart and that I could drive you two ladies in for the festival and meet him there?” Her ‘husband’ stood in the doorway holding Aubrey’s valise and his own pack looking dusty and hot and… yes, as Mrs. Wooten had noted… incredibly handsome.
“Where are my manners? Of course, come in Mr. Bateman. Right this way, both of you. I haven’t even given your poor wife a chance to clean up yet, I’ve been talking her ear off over tea.” She paused. “Do you care for some tea, Mr. Bateman?” When she went to turn back to the stove, he halted her.
“Later perhaps.”
And then she laughed at herself and led them up a small staircase and into a room that was also the attic. “I wish we had a grand chamber, to put you both up, but you being newlyweds, I don’t imagine it matters much to either of you.” She winked. “I’ll bring up some water but if you need more you can always collect some from out back. You can use this pitcher and wash bowl. Here’s a few towels and you do let me know if you need another quilt. It may say April on the calendar, but it still feels like winter around here…”
Mr. Bateman grinned at Aubrey and she couldn’t help but grin back. It was a wonder Mrs. Wooten got a breath in between sentences. Aubrey had never known a person to talk so much, not even Winifred, and that was saying a lot.
After clucking at herself and pulling open the curtains at one end of the room, she remembered she needed to finish packing up her jam and excused herself. “Come down when you’re ready. Of Course, Mr. Bateman, if you’d like that tea, you just holler out for me and I’ll put the water back on for you.”
And then she was gone.
Mr. Bateman sat Aubrey’s valise on an empty chair and then lowered his own pack onto the floor. “Never let it be said that the Wootens of Joseph’s Well are not hospitable people.” He brushed his hands together, his dimple appearing as he grinned.
“What are we going to do?” Aubrey bit her lip after a quick glance at the bed. She realized they’d slept beside one another on the ground two nights before and yet the sight of only one bed, in one room, and his belongings right next to hers… “What if they find out? Mr. Daniels—”
“Won’t say a word.” He answered her question.
Aubrey walked over to the bed and smoothed the counterpane. “I understand why. It wouldn’t look good at all if they knew the truth. I can’t imagine what Mrs. Wooten would think if she knew that I was traveling alone with a single gentleman. Even if I am a wid—”
“Here’s that water for you!” Mrs. Wooten announced her presence at the bottom of the stairs.
Mr. Bateman descended so that she wouldn’t have to carry it all the way up while Aubrey tried to make sense of the situation she’d unwittingly placed herself into.
If anyone in London were to hear of her traveling circumstances, then her dream of hosting readings and salons might be ruined before she even arrived there. Gossip traveled, it seemed, quicker than any pigeon ever could. Even in Rockford Beach, they’d occasionally gotten wind of the most hair-raising scandals that took place in London.
She listened as the door at the bottom of the stairs closed and Mr. Bateman returned.
“It’ll be fine, Princesse.” He placed the pitcher near the wash basin and turned back to face her. “We will pretend, eh? For what remains of today and all of tomorrow. And despite what I told you earlier, you are perfectly safe with me. You trust me, non?”
Of course, she trusted him, it was herself she doubted. From the very moment she first caught sight of this man she’d acted out of character.
“Pretend to be man and wife?” She stared up at him, imagining all the things that such playacting might entail.
It shouldn’t entail much except for the fact that she’d gone and announced that they were newlyweds.
“It will not be so very difficult.” He tilted his head in question. “To pretend you are my wife.” A gravelly tone caught at his voice.
It wouldn’t be difficult at all. No, unfortunately, she’d imagined it too many times already.
Furthermore, what other options did they have? Sleeping outside again? “Will it rain, do you think? On this festival we are to attend?” She turned away, knowing her good mood sounded false.
He didn’t answer right off and she wondered if he wasn’t weighing in on her disposition. “I think it will hold off,” he finally answered. “I’ll take Mrs. Wooten up on her offer of tea, while you freshen up.” She didn’t turn around again until she’d heard him descend all of the stairs.
She was just brushing out her gown when Mrs. Wooten joined her once again. “That man of yours is quite handy, I must admit. He was taking tea but when he noticed my woodpile was low insisted on bringing more in from the back. And while he was busy, I got to thinking. If you’ve been on the road for days now, I imagine you’ve worn that same frock a time or two.”
She crossed to the end of the room, opened a trunk, and after removing some white linen cloths, drew out the loveliest gown. It was spruce colored, with a cloudy lace overlay and had emb
roidery around the hem and bodice. “It’s not brand new, but I thought you might wish to wear something your husband hasn’t seen you in yet. The festival isn’t just for children, mind you. There’s always an announcement or two right after. I have the most romantic memories of it myself, when Bart and I were young.” She blushed and then shook her head. “There will be tasting booths and dancing and vendors, and I was thinking that since you were newlyweds and all, you’d want to look special for your man.” She brushed at the material and Aubrey couldn’t keep the burst of enchantment that jumped inside of her at the thought of wearing such a whimsical dress.
“I love it.” She smiled. “Are you sure it’s no trouble? I would feel horrid if it became soiled.”
“Not at all. It will be my pleasure to see someone pretty and young like yourself make use of it. Let’s use this lavender to freshen it up a bit…”
Mrs. Wooten spent the next fifteen minutes or so assisting Aubrey into the deliciously feminine gown. It was lovely, but it also seemed perfect for a spring festival. Aubrey gazed down and almost felt like the girl she’d been before marrying Harrison Bloomington.
“Don’t wear your hair so tight, Mrs. Bateman.” Mrs. Wooten plucked a few of the strands out of Aubrey’s coiffure. She then went back to the trunk and this time returned with a wreath of silk flowers to sit atop Aubrey’s head.
“It’s too much.” Aubrey stepped back. She wasn’t really a bride, in truth. She was only pretending. The flowers resembled something a bride would wear.
“All the younger ladies wear one.” Mrs. Wooten dismissed Aubrey’s objections and set it atop her head. Without a mirror, Aubrey could only sit and allow Mrs. Wooten to pin it on securely. “Lovely. Ah, indeed. Your young Mr. Bateman will fall in love with you all over again.”
Aubrey blinked away the stinging sensation at the back of her eyes. The memory of her own mother came to mind. Before Mr. Bloomington’s coach had arrived at their house to take them to her own wedding, Aubrey’s mother had fussed at Aubrey’s hair. And she’d collected a few flowers from her own garden so that Aubrey would carry a bouquet.
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