Regency Surrender: Passion And Rebellion. Louise Allen

journey was likely to be arduous, she found it the least unpleasant she’d ever undertaken. For one thing, she was sitting in a comfortable post-chaise, swathed in travelling furs with a hot brick at her feet, next to a man she...really liked. A man who kept her entertained with a fund of anecdotes about adventures he’d had whilst travelling this route before. It was a far cry from being cooped up inside the common stage with a bunch of malodorous strangers. Then again, wherever they stopped, the landlords gave him swift and respectful service. No waiting around in draughty public rooms, suffering rude stares and coarse remarks. They made good speed and dusk was only just descending into true night by the time their carriage swept through the gates of what he told her was to be her new home.

      ‘I am sorry you cannot see very much of it,’ he said as they bounced up a lengthy drive. ‘I will show you around tomorrow. The horses should have settled in by then. I had them sent on ahead, by easy stages, the minute I knew we’d be coming down.’

      She turned, slowly, and looked at him. He’d sent his horses by easy stages, but pushed her to make the journey in one day?

      Just when she’d made allowances for him writing that dreadful list, he...he...

      She drew in a deep breath, grappling with the wave of hurt that had almost made her lash out at him. She would not take his casual remark about his horses as a sign he didn’t care about her. Hadn’t he proved that, in his own way, he did? As he’d related all those tales about adventures he’d had in the posting inns on the way here, she’d seen exactly why he hadn’t wanted her staying at any of them.

      She’d got to stop looking for signs that he was going to turn out to be just like her father.

      ‘There are some decent rides on the estate itself, but we can hack across country if you like, see a bit of the surrounding area, too. You’ll want to know where the nearest town is, get the lie of the land, and so forth....’

      ‘Oh, no,’ she said, lifting her chin. ‘I cannot ride.’

      ‘You cannot ride?’ He looked thunderstruck. And then crestfallen. And then resigned.

      Funny, but she’d never noticed what an expressive face he had before. He’d warned her he was blunt, but not that he was incapable of hiding his feelings.

      Which gave her food for thought. He might be thoughtless, even inconsiderate, but she would always know exactly where she was with him. And he would never be able to lie to her.

      And though she hadn’t known she’d been carrying it, she certainly felt it when a layer of tension slithered off her shoulders. She hadn’t been able to help worrying about what kind of husband he was going to be.

      But so far he’d shown her more courtesy than any other man ever had.

      Eventually they drew up in front of a large, and completely dark, bulk of masonry. He muttered an oath and sprang from the carriage with a ferocious scowl. ‘Where is everyone?’ He strode away and pounded on the front door with one fist while she clambered out of the vehicle unaided.

      It was so very like the way her father would have behaved, after a long and tiring journey, that it resurrected a few bad memories that made her feel, just for a moment, the way she had as a girl. That there was always something more important, more interesting, for a man to do than care for his wife and child.

      ‘I wrote to the Brownlows, the couple who act as caretakers, warning them I would be coming down and bringing my bride with me.’

      With a determined effort, she shook off the shadow of past experience as Lord Havelock took a step back, craning his neck up to the upper storeys of his house. ‘I can’t see any lights anywhere,’ he said. ‘Did you see any lights, perchance, as we were driving up?’

      ‘No.’

      ‘What the devil,’ he said, planting his fists on his hips and glaring at her, ‘is going on, that’s what I want to know?’

      ‘I have no idea.’ He wasn’t like her father. He wasn’t yelling at her because he blamed her for whatever was going wrong. He was just...baffled, and frustrated, that was all. For all she knew, he might really be asking her what she thought was going on.

      Well, there was only one way to find out.

      ‘Well, perhaps...’

      ‘Yes? What?’

      ‘Perhaps they didn’t get your letter.’

      ‘Nonsense! Why shouldn’t they get it? Never had any trouble with the post before.’

      It wasn’t nonsense. He’d arranged their marriage really quickly. And written dozens of letters, to judge from the state of his desk at the hotel.

      ‘Are you quite sure you wrote to them?’

      ‘Of course I did,’ he said, snatching off his hat and running his fingers through his hair.

      ‘Well, then, perhaps, if they were not expecting you...not in the habit of expecting you to call unexpectedly, that is, they may have gone away.’

      ‘Gone away? Why on earth should they want to do any such thing? I pay them to live here and take care of the place.’

      ‘Because it is almost Christmas? Don’t you permit your staff to take holidays?’

      She had his full attention now. But from the way his eyes had narrowed at her dry tone, she was about to find out how far his temper might stretch before snapping.

      ‘Begging your pardon, my lord,’ said one of the post-boys, as he deposited the last of their luggage on the step. ‘But since you seem not to be expected here, will you be wanting us to take you to the inn where we’ll be racking up for the night?’

      Lord Havelock rounded on the poor man, his eyes really spitting fire now.

      ‘I’m not taking my wife to the Dog and Ferret!’

      ‘No, my lord, of course not, my lord,’ said the hapless individual, shooting Mary a pitying look.

      She supposed she ought not to despise them for turning tail and fleeing. But, really! What kind of men abandoned a woman, outside a deserted house, in the sole charge of a husband whose temper was verging on volcanic?

      And then, just when she’d thought things couldn’t get any worse, an eddy of wind tugged at her bonnet, sprinkling her cheeks with light, yet distinct drops of rain.

       Chapter Eight

      ‘That’s all we need,’ he said, ramming his hat back on his head. Things had been going so well until they’d reached Mayfield. She’d been warming towards him throughout the day. It hadn’t even been all that difficult. She had a generous nature and seemed disposed to try to like him.

      But now her face had changed. It put him in mind of the way his great-aunt had looked at him when he’d turned up to one of her ridottos in riding boots. No credit for remembering the insipid event and tearing himself away from a far more convivial gathering to get there. And more or less on time, as well. No. Only disapproval for being incorrectly dressed.

      Not that the cases were a bit the same. He couldn’t really blame Mary for being cross with him.

      He scowled at the carriage as it disappeared round a curve in the drive, wishing now that he hadn’t dismissed the post-boys with such haste.

      ‘The Dog and Ferret really is no place for you,’ he said aloud, as much to remind himself why he’d had all the luggage unloaded, as to explain himself to her. ‘But,’ he said, turning to her at last, bracing himself to meet another frosty stare, ‘at least it would have got you out of the weather. And now,’ he said, shooting the back of their post-chaise one last glare, ‘we are stuck here. Can’t expect you to walk to the village at this hour, in this weather.’ If it had been just him, he could have cut across the fields. But he’d seen the state of her boots the night before. They