Page 88 of Desperate Proposals
Even if she’d a mind to voice any of these concerns, a whinny interrupted the tense silence. She turned to the door; Murphy, sans hat and greatcoat, held the reins of her husband’s mount, a fine chestnut named Dolly who stood patiently in her tack, nickering as the coachman affectionately rubbed her snout.
She looked back to Mr. Hartley. His jaw was set, his noble brow resolute. Oh no. She recognized that expression. He was off to set the world to rights.
“Surely you’re not going to confront her! Not in front of anyone!” she cried in alarm.
“Her?” He scoffed, striding over to place an affectionate hand on her shoulder. “Absolutely not. I’m going to confronthim.”
Confront Wright? In front of Selina? In front of her father, and the entire household staff? Evelyn opened her mouth, desperate to stop such a humiliating public display. But no words came out, only an unladylike stammering containing nothing recognizable as English.
“Take heart,” he said. “I shall be home for dinner.”
With a warm smile that did little to quell her fear, he gave her shoulder a pat and walked away. He mounted his horse, then gave Evelyn one more nod.
“No,” she finally managed, in barely a whisper.
But it was no use. He was too far away.
And then he was off.
How long she stood there, eyes wide and mouth parted, she did not know. Her limbs felt of gauzy silk, her head heavy, her chest tight. When finally these sensations receded, Evelyn realized the horrendous pounding filling her ears was her own heartbeat.
“Ma’am?”
She looked to her right. Murphy was standing there, the concern on his face making his features appear even more pinched. She recalled him trailing behind her as she parted the assembled crowd at Mr. Reed’s gathering, growling at the spectators to give way to the lady.
Evelyn blinked. She sniffed, then lifted her chin.
“Ma’am, are you quite alright?”
“Yes, perfectly fine. Thank you, Murphy.” Then she turned to him. “Bring me a mount.”
“Well, that’s… I…” The coachman hesitated, considering his next words. “The thing is, ma’am, what with Mr. Hartley upon Dolly and… well, there’s not a—”
“Then bring me the cart-horse,” Evelyn said in her most regal tone, never mind that her hair was a ratty mess and her clothing not far behind.
“Gerry? But ma’am, he’s… that is to say, Mrs. Wolfenden took him out.”
Drat. Of course. How could she have forgotten that?
“What…” Evelyn started, panic rising again as she realized how much distance her husband would have put behind him by now. She took a steadying breath, collecting herself. “Are there any beasts left in this stable or not?”
Murphy’s eyes narrowed skeptically. “There’s the team, but they’ve only just returned. They’re being watered, ma’am.”
Evelyn wanted to shout. Instead she clenched her fists behind the folds of her cloak and thought.
“However… we do have one other mount.” Murphy said, seemingly against his better judgment. “But he’s not a gentle sort. Not a lady’s horse, if you take my meaning.” His words trailed off as he looked at Evelyn, scratching his chin as he considered her.
“Bring him.”
Murphy stared at her for a moment before nodding. He then whistled, loud and sharp. A stable boy appeared, seemingly from nowhere.
“Saddle up Lloyd. Bring him around for Mrs. Hartley.”
The boy gave Evelyn an uncertain glance.
“Be quick about it, lad!”
The boy nodded firmly, then ran off.
