Page 10 of His Duchess in Disguise
Chapter 8
Leo neared the makeshift paddock in Cheapside just in time to witness a young woman affecting a humanitarian rescue of what had probably been a child’s mount. He nearly chuckled as he watched the pint-sized little thing get up in the stevedore’s face. Then he sobered as he realized that she had a large bruise on the side of her face.
The bruise didn’t seem to be slowing her down, however. She stood her ground, shaking her finger at the man. As a crowd began to gather, the bookseller came to stand behind the girl. Other shopkeepers began to open their doorways as if to enter the street.
Riots had started over lesser things, so he thought it time to step in and put an end to the spectacle. As he approached the group around the small horse, the girl turned her gaze on him. She was trim and neatly dressed, he noted. The face turned toward him was lightly tanned as if she frequently neglected to wear her bonnet. A dusting of freckles accented her pert nose. The bruise, just the size of a large man’s open palm, was blooming into purple and green. In spite of that, she looked up at him angrily, fully prepared to stand her ground. She didn’t even dicker over the price he named but pulled the banknote from her reticule as if she were accustomed to having plenty of money.
Next, the young lady, for such he judged her to be, then left the horse in the care of the shopkeeper, along with her valise and a pint-sized mop of hair that might possibly be considered a dog if you were feeling generous.
In a few minutes, the girl was back with something that she shoved into her valise and a tattered old blanket that she spread over the fancy child’s saddle.Smart. She knows that tack is distinctive and could easily be traced. It also makes her a target for thieves.
He then watched as she slid to a line of farmers who were clearly heading back out into the countryside.I wonder why she is leaving town? Did she steal the family silver?Or was she turned off from her last position in disgrace? Brave little thing. I hope she manages to get wherever it is she is going.
The Duke of Menhiransten then turned his attention back to the horses that he was purchasing for Captain Arnault.
Chapter 9
Emma had no very distinct idea of where she was going, other than out of London and away from Calber. The blow across her face and her father’s willingness to sell her to that rake, Earl of Cleweme, made it completely clear that there was no point in going home.
She walked beside the farm carts for a while, the dust from them coating her, the horse, and the dog. It helped to disguise the mare’s beautiful sorrel coat and her nearly white mane and tail. When she was far enough out that she did not fear being seen above the farm carts, she halted the mare beside a rail fence and clambered aboard.
She rode astride rather than risk making her mount nervous. The tooled leather felt pleasant enough beneath her bare thighs, and her skirt and extra petticoats were sufficiently full to cover her modesty.
After an hour or two, the sun was high in the sky, and the day was beginning to grow warm. Sweat prickled her skin, and the saddle began to rub her skin raw.
She came to a wide, grassy patch beside the road where stump made a handy mounting block, so she got off the horse. She slipped the bit out of the mare’s mouth and lashed the end of the reins to the stump so the horse could graze. Aware that her meager provisions would have to last a while, she broke off a small piece of bread and a corner of the cheese and gave Rags a piece of dried meat and a hard biscuit. She nibbled the bread and cheese slowly, trying to make them last. Even though she had some money left, she had not counted on buying a horse. She had nothing else to sell and was unlikely to get much for anything other than, perhaps, the horse.
She contemplated the animal as she placidly cropped grass. “At least I don’t have to worry so much about feeding you,” she said aloud. “I suppose I should name you something. You are very pretty, and I am running away from a beast. I think I shall call you Beauty.”
The horse flicked one ear and turned her face toward Emma. “Beauty? Was that your name, Beauty?”
The horses whickered softly, as if in answer, then went back to cropping grass. “Well, that’s what we’ll call her, won’t we, Rags?”
Emma then checked Beauty’s feet and realized she had a new problem. The mare was not shod for rough country roads and one hoof was starting to swell. Emma knew that she should not ride any horse that had started to go lame.
Sadly, she tied her provisions to the saddle and began to walk along the road. Rags bounced along at her feet, apparently viewing this as an adventure.
It seemed as if she had been tramping forever, but it had probably only been an hour or two when a messenger on a bay came pelting down the way.The mail! I forgot about the mail. By now, my father has probably sent messages out from London. I should get off the road, and quickly!
Emma turned Beauty down the first track that seemed to be going in the general direction she had intended. Rags made little circles around her but did not seem inclined to stray.It is fortunate that Rags is not a young dog who would run off after rabbits or do other foolish things.Just as she was out of sight from the road, she heard a carriage rattling past on the main road. A man perched atop it was blowing a horn, and it was moving very fast. Rags nearly tripped her up, huddling close to her feet.
Close on the heels of the carriage, there seemed to be a great many horses, all traveling together. The mare lifted her muzzle as if she might call to them, but Emma placed her hand over her nose, and she calmed.
Once that upset was passed, the going seemed a bit better. The soft earth of the track was easier on Beauty’s feet, and on her own, Emma discovered. Even so, her feet were becoming quite sore. Her worn slippers were fine for stone paving, but the rough overland travel was beginning to wear them very thin.
After a time, she came to a pond that showed clear evidence that a flock of sheep had been watered there. Emma led Beauty to the upper edge where the bank seemed less roiled and let the horse drink. Rags lapped from the stream beside Beauty.
Emma’s throat was parched, but she could not bring herself to drink the muddy water. Instead, she took a leaf off the cabbage and sucked on it as they continued to trudge down the track.
After a little more time, she realized that the track was leading to a farmhouse. Beauty was limping heavily now, and she knew that it would be cruel to continue to force the mare to walk. While she might not have been brave enough to approach the house for her own sake, she could hardly let the horse keep limping on.
With trepidation, Emma approached the front gate to the farmhouse’s dooryard. She tied Beauty to a post beside the gate, took Rags in her arms, and walked up to the house.
Just as she was about to knock, a motherly woman came out of the house. “Merciful heavens child, what happened to your face?” she exclaimed.
Emma let her eyes sweep down, and tears began to course down her cheeks in response to the woman’s sympathy.
“There now, there, dear. Sit down on the step. Let me get you a drink of milk. You look completely worn out.”
