Page 4 of His Spirited Lady
“We will not be so unneighborly,” Amelia retorted. “The duke and duchess—”
“He has made his way across an ocean, at least part of France, and from the coast to here,” Raymond argued. “Surely he can make his way up a road.”
Richard was inclined to agree, if simply because he felt as though he were a pawn in a larger game.
“If you are in a hurry to return and pack, Graves and I can make our way home.” Amelia and her mare nudged Raymond and his mount aside. “Come along, Mr. Ferrand.”
“Miss—”
“Don’t be silly, Graves,” Amelia said. “I know the way better than either of you.” She glanced over her shoulder and flashed another bright smile. “And I doubt Mr. Ferrand will attempt to abduct me in broad daylight in strange surroundings on an unfamiliar horse.”
Richard gave way to his smile as he joined her at the front of the parade. “Little wonder he misses you in London,” he murmured, careful to be quiet because Raymond had drawn up behind them.
“I could list a dozen things Ethan misses in London,” she replied just as quietly. “Just as I’m sure you have many things you miss in Quebec.”
“Of course.” Richard’s response was automatic, but when her silence prodded him to produce something, he was hard-pressed to do it. “Not the weather. It rains half the month this time of year.”
“Your home, certainly?” Amelia scanned the hills laid out in front of them. “I dreamt of Thetford while we were in London.”
He missed sleeping in his own bed, but that likely wasn’t the proper thing to say to a lady. “I have been so busy that I am rarely at home for long periods of time.”
“With the duke here, your load there must be doubled.”
“Yes.” It was the easiest answer. How else to explain that it was easier to deal with work when there wasn’t a youngster at home to entertain, that there weren’t mealtimes to meet, and bedtimes to negotiate, but more difficult at the same time? “It was unusual to have nothing to do but read.”
It hadn’t begun that way. There had been plenty of diversions aboard ship, including his fellow travelers. But by the end, he’d exiled himself to his cabin to avoid a persistent young woman bent on being more than a diversion.
“Or look out over the ocean,” Amelia sighed. “Father and I have spent hours at the bow guessing whether shadows on the horizon were our destination or just another wave.”
Ahead of them, shadows of clouds skated along the surface of green hills, and behind those hills were others of darker green, and then others that were a lighter blue. They continued until they were phantom shapes. “I missed having landmarks.”
“Like trees?”
The teasing lilt of her question drew Richard’s attention. For the first time, he could see her well. Her eyes were indeed a dark blue, almost the color of a sea during stormy weather. Her nose was a perfect point over lips that formed a delightful bow even when she smiled. Delicate and fair, she resembled a forest sprite in the stories Simon had loved. Richard had the intense desire to push off her hat to see if her ears were pointed.
“Yes, Miss Chitester. Like trees.”
“Never fear.” She smiled and pointed ahead of them. “You’ll have your fill over the next rise.”
“Is that a fire ahead?” Raymond asked. “Should we turn—”
“It’s the engine at the mill,” Richard assured him, grinning from ear to ear as a plume of white steam rose into the horizon. It was a sight as familiar as his own reflection. And, as if on cue, axe blows echoed in the distance.
They crested the hill and, to their left, a wide expanse lay beneath them, dotted with tenant farms and houses, crossed by narrow cart paths and rock walls to mark property lines. The mill lay to the left, nearest the forest. For the first time since he’d boarded the ship in Quebec, the world was stable on its axis.
Amelia drew her horse to a stop in front of an entrance flanked by massive stone and brick gateposts. The iron gates were staked open, and the path was wide and well-maintained. “This is where we leave you. Felton House is at the other end.”
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Richard said. Unable to resist, he tilted his head toward his stubborn guide. “Are you certain I won’t get lost between here and the door?” he whispered.
Her lips twitched. “Unfortunately, yes. Wish me luck upon the return trip.” She straightened and turned her horse to face Raymond. “Let’s cut across country and save time. I’ll ride with Graves to ensure she stays in the saddle.”
Richard lifted his hat to Raymond and the chaperone, and then watched as they crossed into a field. If he wasn’t mistaken, the outlines of the manor where they began the journey were visible in the gray distance. They could have taken this shortcut and left plenty of time for a proposal.
Cheeky wench. Ethan Raymond would have his hands full with Amelia.
Richard urged his horse forward, through the gates and on toward the house. A short way down, on his left, was a cottage surrounded by a large garden, both nestled against tall stands of hardwood trees. An elderly woman stood at the gate, shading her eyes to stare at him. Clad all in black, she reminded him of a raven on a high tree branch.
When she didn’t return his greeting, dread surged in Richard’s chest. He’d written that he was coming, but there was a chance he had outpaced the delivery. There was also a chance that Oliver wanted to turn his back on Canada and the sadness he’d left behind.
