A Proper Mistress (9 page)

Molly agreed at once. Anything to delay another full day of that rocking carriage. Going upstairs, she put on her bonnet, Spencer jacket, and gloves. She came downstairs to find Theo waiting, his tall beaver-skin at a jaunty angle.

The town was still waking, but Molly soon found herself uncomfortable with the stares she drew from those residents and shopkeepers who where abroad. She had forgotten her status again, as a less than respectable woman.

By the time Theo handed her into his brother's curricle, she found herself eager to leave. Gracious but it would also be good when this finished and she could slip into in her own plain muslin gowns again—and she vowed never to think them so dowdy or wish for something a bit brighter.

The warm weather held, with a bright sky and not enough clouds to worry over rain. That left the roads dusty, but Molly was too interested in the scenery to care. She spent her time asking Theo about landmarks for which he had no idea about their names or their histories. Often enough, Burke leaned forward to give her an answer, his tone churlish enough that Theo would rebuke him and the two would set to arguing almost like boys over Burke's lack of respect.

The further they traveled, however, the more Theo's answers changed into curt replies, and the more he began to look like a gloomy poet. He even stopped replying to any barbs from his brother's groom, and his distracted frown began to wear on Molly, setting her to pulling at the tips of her gloves.

Across the downs near Cherril, Molly glimpsed a view of a giant white horse laid out in what seemed to be chalk on the green hillside. But Theo only stared at the road ahead, black eyebrows lowered into a flat line, his mouth tight and a hard look in his eyes, so she did not ask about it.

Finally, Molly ran out of patience and bluntly asked, "Are you going to brood the rest of the way there?"

Burke offered a snort of what might have been amusement, but Theo only glanced at her before he focused on his horses again, keeping the pair to a steady trot. "I'm not brooding—I'm thinking."

"Worrying more like. And it's starting me to worry. Are you having second thoughts on this?"

"I should think so," Burke muttered.

Theo jaw tightened so that she saw the pulse beating fast near his ear. "What you think wasn't asked for." He threw a glance over his shoulder to Burke before he looked at Molly. "And I am not changing my mind about anything. I'm going to put a stop to this nonsense once and for all."

She slanted a look at him. He had not sounded as if his temper was meant for her, and she almost asked what nonsense he meant, only that look in his eyes—like thick ice—had her remembering the overbearing stare he had given the innkeeper. She asked instead, "Perhaps you ought to give me a better idea of what to expect? Preparation is half any job."

Glancing at her, his mouth quirked in a crooked half-smile, but the expression did not quite warm his eyes. "Now you sound like an actress."

She thought of the orchestrated meals she had had to arrange for the visit of two royal dukes to Sallie's house, and the other special affairs that had been held for the more select company that had visited. "We all perform in our own ways, don't we, ducks? Like me just now."

"She's got a point there," Burke said, leaning forward.

Theo threw a sharp stare at him. "You may be Terrance's groom, but don't think I won't set you down so that you can walk the rest of the ways."

Muttering, Burke sat back, arms crossed. Theo turned to Molly. "And you...you know all you need to know. Just act smitten and..."

"And vulgar. Yes, so you've said already. But I'm not the one who needs to act smitten, now am I? Seems to me that would do better as your role."

The act of overtaking a wagon piled high with hay took his concentration. When they were past, he steadied the pair and demanded, "Just how do you figure that?"

Molly warmed to her idea, and slipped more into Sallie's accent. "Well, think on it, ducks. You're the one bringin' me home. Why else would you unless you can't stand to have me out of your sight. So, seems as if that ought to be due to your being smitten blind. Ready to do whatever I ask in fact."

"And you'd enjoy that, would you?" he asked, voice dry.

She wrinkled her nose. "I doubt we're talking much pleasure for me in this. You've been brooding enough..."

"I don't brood!"

"...brooding enough," she said firmly, "that I can only think the welcome we'll get from your father will be colder than an east wind off the Thames in a wet January."

Theo's mouth twisted.

But it was Burke who answered, his tone insolent as ever. "Not cold, Miss. It's a hot temper all the Winslows have. The squire'll most likely strip the walls with his cursing."

"Well, that does sound a right treat for me, now doesn't it. And just what else might he do?" She rounded on Theo. "Here now—he's not the type to do more than shout is he?"

Theo glanced at her, blue eyes blazing. "As in what? Box your ears or mine? Take a whip to us? He may have the Winslow temper, but he's not a savage! And Burke, if you say one thing more without being asked, you will be walking! Blazes—as if I'd pull any female into a dicey situation!"

She bit her lower lip to stop the apology from slipping out. And she muttered, "Well, it's not as if I know much of anything about you, now do I?"

His mouth tightened. "You know enough."

She stared at his hard-set jaw for a moment—a stubborn profile, she decided, what with those dark brows flat over his eyes and a deep furrow between them. Now she knew how he got those lines in his forehead.

For once, Burke also kept his tongue between his teeth. He, too, must have heard that implacable tone in Theo's voice.

Turning to face the road again, she let out a sigh. "I suppose I do."

For a moment only the beat of hooves on the road carried to them and the breeze from the brisk moving carriage whispered across her ears. And Theo said, his voice almost accusing, "Now
you're
going to brood."

She lifted one shoulder. "Over what? I know well enough what to do, so it seems we have little else to say."

At the sound of galloping hooves on the hard road behind him, Theo eased the curricle to one side. The mail coach—for Bath he guessed—galloped past in dust and shouts from the driver, the passengers on the roof clinging to the railing that surrounded the seats on the top of the coach and to their hats.

He glanced down at his own passenger. He could barely see the tip of her pert nose just now—that damn bonnet of hers. He waited for some other comment from her, some new question. He hadn't bargained for such an inquisitive woman, but that's what came of looking for a brazen hussy, he supposed. He had wanted a woman with no sensibilities—no delicate feelings that could be easily bruised.

Well, perhaps he could satisfy a little of her infernal curiosity.

"It's simple, you know. All you need to do is be brass, solid through. My father will tear into me—not you. Least that's what I'm expecting—what I want, in fact. It's past time he learned I'm done dancing to his tunes. So when he starts to yell, just clutch at me and let me do all the talking. He's a crusty old devil, but he's been that way since my mother died, though I seem to recall he shouted even before then. Only this time, I'm going to make damn certain he has something to honestly shout about."

#

They drove straight through Bath, quite the most elegant city, Molly decided. With its buildings of white stone, it fairly gleamed, nestled against the rolling, green hills. She wished they might stop for tea and a rest. The shops, with their lovely bow windows to display fabrics and Bath buns, and teas and books, stirred a longing in her to browse along the streets. But Theo kept the horses to a brisk trot, navigating the traffic of other carriages and strolling elegant ladies and gentlemen with ease.

He allowed a short stop in Dunkerton at The Swan for a meal and a change of horses, and at that point Molly thought she would have eaten anything put before her—even the ghastly meat pie she had left behind the day before. However, The Swan provided a lovely summer Pease soup, mutton, macaroni, and a vegetable pie, followed by the thickest strawberries jam, the lightest scones, and the smoothest Devon cream that Molly had ever tasted. She wanted to ask for the recipes for all, but Theo hurried her out so fast she barely had time to pop the last luscious bite of scone into her mouth.

Not long after, the countryside opened into flat land, with only one towering hill to be noted.

"That's the Tor—Glastonbury Tor," Burke answered to her question about it.

Theo merely kept driving.

After yet another village, Molly began to be just a little bored by the trees and fields, cows and sheep. The road had narrowed to more of a lane—they must have turned from the main road—and tension had tightened lines around Theo's mouth.

"Will we be there soon?" she asked, hungry again despite having eaten her fill earlier. The sun lay low on the horizon, but there would be another few hours of light. A full moon also showed a pale face in the eastern sky.

"Soon enough," he said.

Molly gave an inward sigh. It might be awful to face his father, but at this stage she would rather face any number of irate gentlemen—just so long as she could step out of this rocking carriage.

They skimmed through a lovely, tidy village, but it was growing too dark for Molly to see much of it, other than thatched roofs for some of the cottages and lighted windows. She glanced longingly at the sign for The Four Feathers with the warm glow of light in the inn's mullioned windows, but Theo did not check his pace.

Not long after, he slowed the carriage and turned into a gated drive.

Molly sat up, fatigue almost forgotten.

She glanced at Theo. The gathering dusk made it more difficult to see his face—and they were in a shaded drive just now—but she thought she saw that same stubborn jut to his chin. The drive curved, and the lights from the house ahead of them caught her attention.

House? Manor more like. A lovely one at that.

Perched as it was on a small rise, the house caught the last of the light, some of the second storey windows winking silver, and the last of the sunset gave a mellow warmth to the stone walls. A gabled roof stretched up in tidy peaks over stone walls that looked as if they had stood here forever.

Pleasure warmed her at the thought of how wonderful it must be to know that such a house always waited your return.

She shot a worried glance at Theo. How could he bear to court banishment from this place? But perhaps it meant nothing to him. Or perhaps he had somewhere else better to go. That thought turned her mind toward practical questions.

"Theo, if your father throws us out tonight, where are we to sleep?"

He glanced at her and answered, sounding a little put out, and very much as if he had not thought of this before, "We'll stay in Halsage—there's usually rooms for let."

She hopped that would prove true. She did not fancy more miles of traveling, particularly by night, no matter how bright the moon.

Gravel crunched under the horses' hooves and the carriage wheels swept across the drive before Theo pulled the pair of grays now harnessed to the curricle to a halt.

Jumping down, Burke hurried to hold the horses' heads, but Theo sat for a moment, staring up at the house.

It's not too late.
Molly thought, and tried to will the idea from her head to Theo's, hoping he might indeed turn away. To throw away this as his inheritance—oh, he must indeed be a little unbalanced to do such a thing. Or perhaps he had good reasons. Perhaps his father was indeed unbearable. And perhaps she had been blessed in never having had close kin.

Turning in his seat, the curricle rocked as he shifted his weight, and he asked, his tone a touch uncertain now, "You ready?"

She nodded and realized he might not see such a gesture. She put up her chin. "Ready as I'll ever be, ducks. Besides, anything that gets me to a hot cup of tea within the hour is good enough by me."

His grin flashed in the gathering twilight. "You were a good choice," he said. His finger flicked under her chin before he jumped down and held up his arms to help her.

With her feet on the ground again, Molly could swear she still felt the sway of the carriage. Her heart also picked up a sickening pace as she glanced at the house.

Theo's voice, now strong and set, gave her courage. "Walk 'em Burke. We won't be long."