Page 48 of A Lady's Wager
She could think of no words but nodded after a few more moments had passed.
He smiled back at her in acknowledgement.
What, exactly, had she agreed to?
The sun was going down, causing the light inside the carriage to deepen into golden tones that fit the mood. Mr. Firth put his hat over his eyes—to give her privacy, she suspected. She turned to look out the window, a confusing array of emotions swirling in her chest, but a small and unexpected bubble of joy in her heart.She smiled, then glanced his direction to make sure he wasn’t watching before giving in to the smile completely.
IT WAS FULL DARK WHENthe carriage rattled past the road sign that read the Straw Hen Inn.
Etta felt as though she’d lived a lifetime in this carriage—Mr. Firth’s bold confession had…changed something within her. Woken ideas and shown possibilities she had long since stopped entertaining. Even admitting to Elizabeth that she was attracted to him hadn’t opened those vaults of thoughts and ideas. And talking about her marriages and her views of love with him—a topic she had never discussed with another person in all her life—made her feel so…herself. And yet so much a stranger at the same time.
Arriving at their destination pushed her thoughts to what would come next, however, and the slightly breathless feeling melted away in light of what awaited them. She felt a stab of guilt for having not thought of Rachel’s predicament and not thought ahead to this moment. The words and the feelings still residing inside this carriage had taken over every thought and sense.
She had to shake her thoughts back to the here and now.
The inn.
Rachel.
They would confer with the grooms and hear what they had learned. They would stay the night and make a plan for tomorrow. There were too many variables for her to guess what tomorrow would be like.
Had the grooms learned anything?
Was there any hope of overtaking the young couple before they reached Scotland?
What if Rachel did love him? Or think that she did? Was Etta as prepared to dismiss that as she’d been at the start of the day’s journey?
“Everything will be alright,” Mr. Firth said when the carriage stopped.
She smiled and nodded at him, hoping she looked brave.
He let himself out of the carriage, then reached for her hand and held it a bit longer than was necessary. They walked to the inn side by side, and she brushed his shoulder with her own not so accidentally. He turned to look at her and she held his eyes a moment, then faced forward again and swallowed. He opened the door to the inn, then put his hand on the small of her back when she passed him in the doorway. He did not remove it as he guided her inside and she did not want him to.
She blinked into the relative brightness of the room as her eyes adjusted and then felt his hand stiffen against her back. She became tense in response and then looked up to see Rachel standing from a table, her eyes red from crying. Five grooms sitting nearby stood as one, all of them looking at Etta and Mr. Firth. A woman, likely the innkeeper’s wife, stood from where she’d been sitting beside Rachel and disappeared to some back room.
“Rachel?” Etta said in a breath.
Rachel hung her head, covered her face with her hands, and began to cry. Etta crossed the room and pulled Rachel into her chest, wrapping her arms around her and smoothing her hair.“It is alright,” she said, echoing what Mr. Firth had told her. “Whatever has happened, it will be alright in the end, I promise it will.”
It was hours before Etta let herself out of the room where she and Rachel were staying. The girl had cried and explained and cried some more. Finally, the innkeeper’s wife had brought a tonic, which had settled Rachel’s frantic mind and allowed her body to sleep. Etta had stayed, stroking her hair and humming a hymn until she was certain Rachel was asleep. She would sleep in that same room, but she needed a moment…perhaps she would walk in the coolness of the yard. Or stare into the dying fire downstairs in the parlor.
She let herself into the hall and was two steps from the room when the door across the hall opened, and Mr. Firth stood in the frame, his shirt open at the neck and hanging to the knees of his breeches. He stepped out to meet her in the hallway and reached out to touch her arm. “Is she alright?” he asked in a whisper.
Etta nodded. There was much to tell him and yet so little to say. Rachel had been a fool, Mr. Rigby had been a scoundrel, and though the worst had not happened, this would mark an unforgettable point in her life forever. Rachel had admitted that she hated London—had hated it from the start but put on a brave face for Etta and her parents’ sakes. The continual comparisons to Beatrice had been painful, and though she’d managed to become friendly with the other girls, she was overwhelmed by the comparisons and competitiveness they all felt toward one another. Mr. Rigby’s attention had overridden her better judgement at a time when she felt she could not handle London any longer.
“Mr. Rigby left her at an inn when she would not comply with his pursuit—she had thought they were going to watch the sunrise together and that she would be home before anyone noticed.” Etta shook her head and raised a hand to her throbbing temple. “I am relieved, and yet she is heartbroken and embarrassed and has been so miserable all these months. I don’t…” Her voice trembled. “I do not know what to do now.”
When Mr. Firth’s arms wrapped around her, she let him pull her close, much as she’d comforted Rachel upon their arrival. She turned her face to rest against his chest and closed her eyes, taking comfort in his presence and concern. He rubbed her back, kissed the top of her head, and rocked her gently for a time before releasing her. His arms remained around her waist and her hands rested on his arms.
“I am so very out of my element here, Mr. Firth,” she whispered into the intimate space of this hallway. “I do not know what to do.”
He reached up, brushing his thumb against her cheek. “Well first, you must begin to call me Wynn.” He smiled. “And then for the next few hours, the only thing you need to do is sleep.”
She nodded, the fatigue compounding at his reminder of just how very tired she was. He stepped back, his arms dropping from her waist but one hand capturing hers and holding tight. When he began leading her into his room, she did not resist. He closed the door, enveloping them in darkness as he led her to the bed.
“Wynn,” she said, noting how easy it was to transition from the more formal address to his given name.
“You are going to sleep here,” he said back, lifting her onto the bed. “And I am going to hold you for a little while at least. You do not need to carry this by yourself, and you are safe with me, Etta. Let me be your partner in this, if only for tonight.”
