Page 38 of Persuasions of an Earl's Daughter

“They’ll make a bloody mess,” the innkeeper muttered but August spotted his lips quirk in the corners.

He wasn’t certain what he expected when he stepped into a pub no bigger than Astrid and Klara’s cottage. It wasn’t this, though. It wasn’t a sense of warmth and comfort in the worn furnishings and the cleanly swept and creaky wooden floors.

It wasn’t paintings that the innkeeper informed him were painted by local people that ranged in style and skill yet were hung proudly everywhere. He could see why their hosts had chosen to settle in Oakfield. Everyone knew everyone’s name, yet they did not mind August in their midst nor did they care for why he might be there. It made every ballroom he’d ever set foot in seem cold and uncharismatic.

It made him feel at home.

August smirked and took a larger gulp of the good quality ale. His father wouldn’t have been surprised he preferred it here to a ballroom.

It’s in your blood, boy.

If it was in his blood, he was grateful. Better to have been born to warm, welcoming people than a cold-hearted, cruel man like his father.

“So you need transport?” The man on the left of him took one of the spare ales. He’d introduced himself as King on account of his golden hair apparently.

“I’ll pay handsomely.”

“Coin or not, there’s few spare wagons going. You might want to talk to Long boy.” King waved vigorously to a man who stood no taller than Lilly.

August shook his head. Did everyone in Oakfield have nicknames?

Long Boy reached past August to help himself to the final beer. “You want transport I hear.”

“Long Boy hasconnections,” King said in low tones.

He couldn’t fathom what these connections were but if it meant they could get moving soon, he was happy to make use of them.

“A cart would do it,” August explained. “Not too heavy, though. I have the one horse.”

Long Boy nodded. “A fine horse I’m told.” He tapped a finger to his lips and made a great show of pondering the issue. “I can probably get you something by Wednesday.”

“That’s three days away,” August pointed out.

“We’re not awash with carriages, Musgrave.”

August didn’t even try to correct the man or ask where he’d heard that name. It was easier to let everyone assume he and Lilly were married.

And oddly pleasant too. The name didn’t remind him of his father or everything he’d done his best to eschew.

It connected him to her too.

He shouldn’t like it, but he did.

“As I said, I’ll pay handsomely.”

Long Boy shrugged. “Three days is all I can do. In the meantime, you can enjoy our fine company, and Mr. Ledbury’s even finer ale!” He lifted his tankard in salute to the innkeeper and drained his drink.

August allowed himself another ale before thanking the villagers for their company and making his way back to Astrid and Klara’s home. There was only so long he wished to leave Lilly alone and he didn’t want to ponder why too deeply. No matter how many times he tried to tell himself he was here for Icarus, he’d known probably from the moment she rode off after the thieves that he was here for her. His fanciful ideas of using Icarus to bring renown to his new racecourse seemed, well, pointless now.

So what if horses trampled his father’s land? So what if his father would have loathed it? Truth be told, the moment he’d found out the one relative who had any care for him had died, it didn’t matter. He justthoughtit did.

Staying with his uncle was the only time he felt love or even an ounce of kindness. Uncle Henry knew what a frightful brute his father was and did his best to negate the effects of August’s mistreatment by his father and neglect from his mother. He was a good man and August understood why he wished for Icarus to be cared for by Lilly now. Would going against his uncle’s wishes bring him any sort of comfort?

He snorted to himself as he made his way down the road toward the warmly lit windows of the cottage. He’d thought if he owned Icarus, he would have Uncle Henry with him somehow as well as get his revenge.

Perhaps it was the ale talking but the thought of revenge didn’t burn bright inside him anymore. After all, he’d spent years ensuring he was anything but the gentleman his father wanted him to be. His father would have hated him spending so long out of the country. Would have loathed the idea of a son meeting people from numerous cultures rather than swanning around ballrooms with theton. If the last decade hadn’t fulfilled his need for revenge, would something so simple as a racecourse really make things any better?

The front door opened before he could knock and Astrid ushered him in, closing the door quickly.

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