Page 64 of If the Slipper Fits
“You do? But—”
“There’s no time to talk. I packed your things and had them sent down.”
“You packed for me? Sent down where? I don’t understand.”
The older woman lifted one gloved hand, palm out. “We haven’t the time for a lengthy discussion. You must leave, and quickly. To that end, I’ve made certain…arrangements.” She cocked her head as if contemplating her next words. “You may find them slightly uncomfortable, but do bear in mind you’ll suffer this discomfort for only a brief time, and the small sacrifice far outweighs the alternative.”
“Which is?”
“Leaving here with Lord Bolton.”
Her insides froze. “He’s here?”
“No. But I believe his arrival is imminent.”
Anna’s head spun. Lady Wentworthknewabout her marriage to Lord Bolton?
Had Caden told her? No. He wouldn’t have had time. She searched the dowager’s face.
“Anna, do you trust me?”
She’d known her employer only two years. She’d been betrayed by others whom she’d known much longer. Still. She inhaled deeply, praying she wouldn’t regret her decision. “Yes.”
Lady Wentworth’s demeanor conveyed a palpable sense of relief. “Follow me.”
***
Caden slunk back into the well-cushioned bench in the travel coach Harrison had lent him and stared morosely out into a night as black as death.
Horse hoofs clattering over cobblestones drowned out the gusts of wind tearing through the surrounding trees as the driver atop the box held the handsome pair of grays at a steady clip. Lord knew how on a night like this. Not a star penetrated the thick clouds blanketing the sky overhead.
Between the inky darkness outside and the glowing lantern illuminating the carriage’s interior, Caden could make out nothing through the small windows.
He glowered at the luxurious velvet cushions and swaying curtains that made up the entirety of his gilded cage. With a flick of his fingershe extinguished the lamp and plunged himself into a profound blackness which matched his mood.
He rubbed at his temple, near his uninjured brow. His head throbbed with a dull ache, whether from his first injury, or his second, or from plain, bloody frustration, who could say? And now a smattering of raindrops beat against the carriage doors and window panes. Perfect.
He rapped on the trap above his head.
The driver slowed the grays to a roll and slid open the trap. “Aye, sir?”
“If this storm breaks, we’ll need to stop for the night. Keep an eye open for an inn.”
“Aye, sir. If’n the weather turns.” The trap slid shut.
He dug in the pocket of his great coat and withdrew the flagon of whiskey Harrison had shoved into his hand upon seeing him off. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten and partaking of the spirits would likely knock him sideways. If only they’d mute the deafening accusations echoing in his head.
He thumbed the cork off and raised the silver pint in a silent toast to nobody before taking a long slog. He welcomed the liquor’s burn as it slid down to his empty stomach.
He was off to Chissington Hall, summoned by Zeke, as if his dramatic declaration of less than a month ago had never occurred. For once, Caden couldn’t fault his brother. This was about the earl. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of reception he’d receive.
To say their last interaction had been caustic would be putting it mildly.
The afternoon had started out so promising. He’d gone in search of the earl and Zeke with a spring in his step, eager to finally sharehis findings about the many uses of limestone, along with his offer to personally oversee repurposing the mill.
He’d anticipated Zeke’s reaction with a quiet sense of pride. First would come surprise that Caden had taken on the project of his own recognizance. Perhaps he’d feel chagrined about not granting Caden access to the familial funds, leaving Caden no choice but to borrow against his own investments.
Next, Zeke and the earl would listen with interest to the myriad heretofore untapped benefits of limestone to the estate which Caden would outline in detail.
