Page 22 of Wicked Rivals
“We were headed to Lennox House. How far is that from here?”
The woman thought for a moment. “Lennox House? You’re still a ways off. About an hour by coach. Three by foot.”
So far?“I don’t suppose anyone would allow us to ride in the back of a cart on their way past the house?”
The innkeeper looked disappointed. “If I hadn’t sent my son off to the village, I would have had him take you. But he’ll not be back for two days.”
“Thank you. We appreciate all you’ve done for us.” Rosalind meant it. This woman had done far more for them than she’d needed to.
“We women must help each other.” The woman chuckled, but Rosalind sensed she had worked hard in life for a reason, and earned her little inn without help from anyone. As a fellow businesswoman, she admired the innkeeper for it.
“I have some sacks of grain in the storage room, and you can make pallets out of them for the night. If you need to, you can stay till my son gets back.”
Rosalind glanced at her maid and then nodded. “That would be fine.” Lord knows she’d slept on worse in her youth. They followed their hostess to the storage room and helped her lay the sacks of grain down before she and Claire crawled over on top of them. Claire puffed her sack once and then promptly fell asleep.
It was not nearly as easy for Rosalind. The sounds of the grain shifting in the bags, hissing in the dark, clawed at her nerves. The wood walls of the inn creaked, and the scuttle of rodent paws scratching away kept her restless. A cold draft slipped in through the cracks beneath the storeroom door. She punched at the grain beneath her, but she couldn’t get comfortable.
Have I gotten so soft since I married Henry?Before then, she’d slept on the stony floors of the stable on more than one night, with naught but a bit of hay to keep warm. This was far better than those days had been.
Every time she closed her eyes, thoughts of the highwayman, his cold smirk and arrogant blue eyes, were all she could see. It made her heart slam hard against her chest all over again. But his voice—it wasn’t Ashton’s. An echo, perhaps, but not the same. Each leap in her pulse was not because of the robber himself but because of whom he’d reminded her of.
Am I being a silly peahen? To be imagining Lord Lennox as a masked robber?It was utter nonsense. The man had no need to rob ladies upon the road, and it didn’t seem like the sort of activity he’d engage in for amusement. And knowing him, if he’d robbed her, he would have taken his mask off and lorded it over her.
Still…something about him reminded her of Ashton. Perhaps it was simply because she’d felt robbed by him already and was clearly determined to associate all villains with that bloody baron. She paused, her thoughts circling around something that startled her. Ashton’s plan to take her businesses had been cunning, brilliant, and she had to admire the tactics he’d used.
Somewhere around midnight, Rosalind’s shoulder was jostled and she rolled over, half-asleep, to stare at the innkeeper.
“The storm’s let up, dear. One of my lads is willing to take you half the distance on his horse, but he can only carry one of you.”
Rosalind blinked, looked at her sleeping maid and sighed.I should let Claire sleep until the coach can come for her.She couldn’t afford to wait two days to confront Ashton.
“I’ll go. Would you mind letting my maid stay here until I can send for her? Our coach should be repaired before your son returns. She’ll work for room and board in the meantime, and I should be able to pay for any deficiencies once I reach Lennox House. Please let her know to wait for our driver.”
The innkeeper nodded. “That’d be fine. I’d love some help in the kitchens. I’ll tell her when she wakes. Now come on, the lad’s waiting for you.”
Wiping her hair back from her face, Rosalind brushed off the dirt from her carriage dress and followed the innkeeper through the quiet common room.
A restless young man waited by the door, and he bowed bashfully when he saw them walking his direction.
“Hello, Your Ladyship.”
“Thank you for letting me ride with you.” Rosalind meant it. When the lad opened the inn door, rain was still coming down, but it had softened to a drizzle. The young man offered her a foot up on the saddle, and she kept the horse steady as he mounted up behind her.
“What’s your name?” she asked as he reached around her to take the reins.
“Rolfe, Your Ladyship.”
“Thank you. I won’t forget this, Rolfe.” She’d find a way to repay him and the innkeeper. She may be ruthless against someone like Ashton but not these folk. They reminded her too much of home and the wonderful people in the villages near her family’s castle.
As they rode for the next half hour, her hair fell loose and her barely dry dress was soon soaked again. By the time she reached Ashton’s estate, she would look like a drowned cat, not a woman ready to seduce a man for revenge.
She still wasn’t convinced that Emily’s plan would work. Was Ashton even the type of man whocouldbe seduced? He was so cool and dispassionate…yet that night at the opera she’d seen another side of him, one that had given her power over him in that moment of blind passion. Perhaps he could be seduced…
“Here we are.” Rolfe tugged the reins to halt the horse at a pair of old stone columns marking the entrance to Ashton’s lands. “You’re lucky. Seems the storm barely touched here.”
“How far is it to the house?” Rosalind’s feet were sore just thinking about the trek in this weather in her black boots.
“About three miles.” Rolfe slipped off his horse and lifted her to the ground with the grace of a gentleman. “I’m sorry I cannot take you farther. Will you be all right?” He waited for her to respond, eyes wide.
