Page 4 of An Earl's Christmas Seduction
“We should be getting back to the house. I wonder who’ll arrive first,” Nicholas said, wondering what Lady Amelia would make of the Devonshire moors, the striking setting of the house.
***
“Can you see anything at all?” Amelia asked, pulling down the carriage window and peering out into the whirling snowstorm beyond.
Her mother looked from behind, leaning forward, as Amelia called out to the carriage driver.
“What’s happened?” the baroness asked.
“It’s the wheels, my Lady. They’re stuck. We’re in a rut. I can’t get the horses to move,” the carriage driver called back.
Amelia and her mother looked at one another in alarm. The journey from London had been perilous. They had encountered heavy snow, and the carriage had twice become as it was now. On the road to Winchester, they had been set on by bandits who had mistaken them for a mail coach.
The escort’s quick thinking (and pistol) had averted something far more serious. They were cold and uncomfortable and had been looking forward to arriving at Ashworth House before nightfall. By the driver’s estimation, they were just a few miles from the earl’s estate. But a few miles felt like a few hundred without the carriage to carry them.
“Send the escort on and get them to send a carriage from the estate. We can’t spend the night out here,” Amelia’s mother called out.
The escort, who had ridden doggedly at the side of the carriage since their departure from London, nodded.
“I’ll go ahead, my Lady. There’s no danger here, but we won’t be able to move the carriage any further in this. Stay in the compartment and keep warm. I’ll be as quick as I can,” he said, and Amelia watched as he rode off into the snowstorm.
She turned to her mother, who tutted.
“All I want is a hot cup of tea,” she exclaimed, and Amelia smiled.
“He’ll be back soon, Mother. Hopefully, with a couple of stable boys and a carriage to bring us the last few miles,” she said.
There were blankets in the compartment, and the two women wrapped themselves up as best they could, huddling together to keep warm.
“I wish we hadn’t come, Amelia. What would your father say if he saw us like this? He’d be horrified. But never mind, we must make the best of things, I suppose. We’ll be there soon…I hope,” she said, and Amelia nodded.
The snow was falling thickly, but earlier, through the carriage window, Amelia had glimpsed the sea stretching out below the cliffs, the road running parallel to the edge, before turning along a horse lined track and into woodland, the trees bare and overhanging.
It was a wild and lonely place, and Amelia could not help but be caught up in the romance of the earl’s estate, with its vast tracts of moorland and towering cliffs. She imagined horse rides across the heathers, and roaring fires in the house.
“It’ll be all right, Mother. I’m sure the earl won’t leave us out here alone,” she said.
Amelia knew no more about the earl than she had in London, but she allowed herself to form a picture of what he would be like. Clara had told her their cousin was something of a recluse, a man who had shunned society in favor of his own company. She pictured a shy man, retiring and reticent, without any of the conversation one might expect from a member of the aristocracy.
“One would hope not. It’s hardly the way I wanted to arrive…rescued from a snowstorm. Whatever will he think of us?” the baroness said, and Amelia smiled.
She did not think the earl would think any less of them, even as she was curious to know what hewouldthink of them. The invitation had been unexpected, and while Amelia was glad of the change, she was uncertain what the coming days would bring, or how they would be received.
“There’s a carriage approaching, my Lady,” the driver of their own carriage called out an hour or so later, and Amelia’s mother let out a sigh of relief.
“Oh, at last, thank goodness,” she exclaimed, throwing back the blanket and beckoning Amelia to follow her.
The sound of voices came from outside, darkness now falling, as bobbing lamps appeared through the falling snow.
“Baroness Wells? Lady Amelia? Are you there?” a voice called out, and Amelia opened the compartment door to climb out.
“We’re here, yes,” she said, assuming their rescuer to be a stable boy or groom sent to their rescue by the earl.
But as she emerged from the compartment, Amelia was surprised to find herself face to face with a well-dressed man, in a frock coat and cloak, holding up a lamp. He was handsome, perhaps a few years older than she, with black hair and bright green eyes. He smiled at her, offering her his hand.
“Lady Amelia? Nicholas Ashworth, at your service. I’m so sorry about what’s happened. These roads can be treacherous to the uninitiated,” he said, taking her by the hand.
A shiver ran through her, and not because of the cold. This was the earl himself, and it seemed extraordinary to think he had come to their rescue. Amelia’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, for he was nothing like she had imagined him to be.
