Pride in Regency Society: Wicked Captain, Wayward Wife / The Earl's Runaway Bride. Sarah Mallory

ma’am.’

      ‘I beg your pardon?’

      Granby tilted up his head, his chin jutting obstinately. ‘I cannot leave you, Mrs Wylder. The master would never forgive me. I mean,’ he added hastily, ‘if you are going to Monkhurst, then I should like to come with you, mistress. I could be useful to you. As a courier, perhaps, or a steward at Monkhurst.’

      ‘A steward! Do you know anything about such matters?’

      ‘I sailed with the captain for years, madam, and only became his valet when he left the sea. I know a great deal more than how to dress a gentleman, and I cannot like the idea of you and Martha travelling so far without a man.’

      Eve regarded his solid figure. ‘I confess it would be a comfort to have a manservant with me.’

      A look of relief flashed in his eyes. He bowed. ‘Then it is settled. Mrs Wylder. I shall go and pack.’

      ‘Hurry, then, for I wish to be away from here by noon.’

      

      It was not to be expected that Bernard would take Eve’s decision calmly, but in the presence of Mrs Harding and the servants he could not argue too strongly and Eve was careful not to give him the opportunity to speak to her alone. By noon the carriage was packed and ready to depart.

      ‘I fear you will find the house in a dreadful state,’ Bernard warned her as he helped her into the carriage.

      ‘Perhaps, but I sent a messenger off at dawn to advise the staff there of my arrival.’

      ‘The devil you did! You planned this and never a word to me!’

      ‘Come, Bernard, do not scowl so. Let us part as friends.’

      After a slight hesitation he took her hand and bowed over it. ‘Very well. But I cannot like it.’ He kissed her fingers. ‘Remember, Evelina, you will always be welcome here at Makerham.’

      It was shortly after noon when Eve left Makerham. She dare not look back at the house that had been her home for so many years, nor at the churchyard where Sir Benjamin’s remains now rested. Instead she kept her gaze fixed upon Granby, who was riding alongside the carriage. It reminded her of her first sight of Nick Wylder, when he came cantering towards her on his magnificent black horse. The memory brought a lump to her throat. She could not yet believe that she would never see Nick again. Eve wondered what had become of Admiral. She must ask Mr Granby. If the animal was still at Hastings then he must be fetched, even if he had to be sold. Yes, he most definitely would have to be sold, she thought, trying to be practical. But not yet. Not until she was settled in her new life.

      

      The day dragged on. Even the thought of seeing Monkhurst again, a house Eve had not visited for a decade, did not have the power to excite her. Her grandfather’s loss had not been unexpected and although she grieved for him she was not overcome. It was Nick who filled her thoughts. Nick with his devastating smile and that twinkle in his blue eyes, his energy and enthusiasm for life. She remembered the night they had shared, a single night that had transformed her from a girl into a woman. Nick had made her feel alive, he had aroused emotions in her such as she had never known—and now would never know again. Eve closed her eyes and turned her head towards the window so that Martha should not see her tears.

      

      Their progress had been slow through the lanes around Makerham, but once they reached Guildford the roads improved and they made good time. Eve had given instructions that they were to press on as quickly as possible, but even though their stops to change horses were brief, and Eve had alighted only once at Tenterden to partake a hurried dinner, it was nearly ten o’clock when they arrived at their destination. As the carriage pulled up at the closed gates Eve let down the window.

      ‘I can smell the sea on the breeze,’ she murmured. ‘I had forgotten how the winds carry the salt air inland.’

      ‘There’s no lights in the house,’ muttered Martha, peering out of the window towards the shadowy building, outlined against the darkening sky. ‘We’re locked out.’

      ‘Nonsense,’ Eve replied. ‘There is a light in the window of the Gate House. Mr Granby is even now knocking on the door.’

      A few minutes later the valet approached the carriage followed by a large, ambling figure. ‘This is Silas Brattee, Mrs Wylder, the gatekeeper. He says your message never arrived.’

      ‘But I sent it express!’

      Granby shrugged. ‘I will follow that up tomorrow, madam.’

      Eve waved him aside and peered at the figure behind him. ‘You are Aggie’s husband, are you not?’ she said. ‘You will not know me, for you were at sea when I lived here as a child.’

      ‘Aye, I was, mistress. Went off to sea about the time that you was born, I’m thinking. The mistress was dead by the time I came home for good, but Sir Benjamin kept me an’ Aggie on here to look after the place.’ Silas was shifting from foot to foot as he spoke to her. ‘If we’d known you was comin’ ma’am, we’d’ve spruced up the house. As it is, the place ain’t fit…’

      ‘Well, it will have to do,’ replied Eve. ‘Unlock the gates, please.’

      ‘Mebbe the Bell would suit, or the Woolpack,’ suggested Silas hopefully.

      ‘That is only a mile or so back,’ added Granby. ‘They will have rooms for the night.’

      ‘Nonsense. I took the precaution of bringing my own linen. It will not take a moment to prepare beds for us.’

      ‘Nay, mistress,’ said Silas. ‘You’d be much more comfortable in the village, miss, believe me.’

      Eve peered through the darkness at him. ‘I am beginning to wonder if you received my message, but decided to ignore it,’ she declared. ‘Let me in now, Mr Brattee.’

      ‘The house has not been lived in,’ Granby warned her. ‘It may well be damp.’

      ‘I do not care if the roof is falling in,’ retorted Eve. ‘I will stay in my own house tonight.’

      Her fierce glare had its effect. Granby nodded and muttered to Silas to unlock the gates.

      ‘Well,’ sighed Eve as they clattered onto the grasscovered drive and drove up to the front door. ‘This is a poor beginning.’

      ‘Mrs Brattee is going to bring coffee and some food up to the house later,’ said Granby as he helped Eve to alight. ‘However, I fear you will not be very comfortable.’

      ‘I am so exhausted now I think that as long as I can lie down I shall be happy,’ she said, following him into the dark entrance hall. She stood for a few moments, pulling off her gloves while the valet moved around the walls, lighting candles. As the feeble glow strengthened, the outline of the large panelled hall could be seen. It was furnished with a large table that filled the centre of the room and a number of solid chairs and heavy dark chests pushed against the walls.

      Martha gave a gusty sigh. ‘Ooh, miss, this reminds me of the last time we was here, when your sainted mother was alive. I was nobbut a girl then, o’ course, like yourself. My first post away from home, but I remember your mama saying how glad she always was to come back here after her travels.’

      ‘I am sure she never had to come to an unprepared house!’ retorted Eve with asperity.

      ‘No, miss, but she wouldn’t have worried about it. A very spirited lady was your mother and one who loved adventure, God rest her soul.’

      ‘Well, I want nothing more than a quiet life!’ Eve sighed. ‘Let us see what we can do, Martha. Fetch a candlestick and we will go upstairs. I had best take the main bedroom; if my memory serves, there is a maid’s room adjoining. Ask Dan Coachman to bring up the trunks and we will search out the sheets.’

      ‘You are never going to be making up beds, miss!’ Martha was shocked. ‘Rich—I