Page 8 of The Duke Who Loved a Widow
“Aye, not long,” affirmed Henderson.
“Don’t hurry,” Robert told them. “I’d rather you did a thorough job and didn’t rush.”
“That makes sense,” came the response from Grayson, head down under the carriage as he worked to coax the loose axle back in place.
Robert looked at the sky, now a beautiful clear blue, with only high strands of clouds. He made an instant decision.
“I’m going to hire a horse and ride on,” he told his men. “It’s a glorious afternoon, and I’ll be home around the same time we would have been if we hadn’t had the problem with the axle. I can always change horses in York.”
“Very good, Your Grace,” said Grayson. He then called to Brearley, “John, tell the innkeeper his lordship will ride ahead. He’ll need a horse.”
Grayson turned to Robert. “Would you like Brearley to ride alongside you?” he asked.
“No, Grayson, I’d rather he stayed here with you and Henderson and got the carriage on the road again.”
Once he set off again for Montbury, he felt his spirits rise. It was good to be riding through Yorkshire again, every milestone showing he was closer to home.
He stopped in York, loving the sight of the high Minster Cathedral soaring above the city. After changing horses, he began the last part of the journey to Castle Montbury and the climb upwards to the high moors.
He gasped as he turned a corner and saw a host of yellow daffodils, heads nodding and dancing in the breeze. Old man Morley, the steward’s father, had encouraged these to grow in his grandfather’s time. Now, many great houses were paying for this sort of landscaping.
I’m almost home; only a few more miles to go.
The ancient turrets of Castle Montbury were visible on the distant horizon. He knew these paths across the moor and through the forest as he dipped down into the valley that sheltered Montbury Village.
He waved at the parson, who waved back with a smile of recognition.
I believe his name is Nathaniel something or other? I should know the name as he’s some sort of distant relative who has taken up the living of St Mary’s, Montbury. Papa would have known his name. I’m not doing well as Duke of Montbury.
The nameless parson stood on the village green, talking with an engaging young lady in a straw bonnet. A quiet spring afternoon on the village green.
Just another couple of miles, and I’ll be home.
He urged the horse into a trot as he left the village behind. It was a good horse borrowed from an inn in York. He’d half a mind to buy it for his stable. Good, dependable horses, which could last the distance, were sought after.
“What the …?”
A small boy sat in the middle of the track. He pulled the reins to slow the horse to a walk. Thankfully he was far enoughaway that the horse had enough time to slow down before reaching the child.
He seems to be holding a dog. Perhaps the poor thing is injured. I’d better stop and see if he needs help, he thought, almost resenting the delay to his arrival at the castle for a hot bath and warm dinner.
Suddenly, a loud whining noise rent the air around him. The dog, which looked like a spaniel, howled as if howling at a full moon on a wild winter’s night.
Without warning, the hired horse set off cantering towards the child. Robert pulled sharply on the reins, terrified the horse would hit the child, who seemed so intent on comforting the dog that he was oblivious to approaching danger.
As the horse veered past the boy, he looked up in stunned surprise.
A loud, piercing woman’s scream followed, “Henry … No-o-o!”
The horse reared up onto its hind legs. He managed to hold on the first time, urging the scared animal to settle, but with the howling dog and the piercing scream, he knew he had lost control of the mare. All he could do now was hope to come out of this alive and without severe injury.
Losing his seat, Robert landed on the wet grass, hitting the ground lightly. He lay there for a second, wondering what he had injured. He gingerly tried to lift his head out of the puddle in which he’d landed and felt relief that he could move.
No broken bones. I’m lucky, he thought. The endless rain has made the ground softer than usual.
He remembered the boy. There had been a child in the middle of the road. Raising himself on one elbow, he turned his head and saw, with a sigh of relief, that the child appeared unharmed.
A woman crouched next to the child, speaking to the boy in insistent tones. The dog continued to howl, setting Robert’s nerves on end.
