Stages of Desire (24 page)

“The wheel is stuck,” said Catherine. “But perhaps if we can get it out of the rut, we could harness your horse to the carriage, and drive in together.”

“You don't even know who I am and you're willing to let me take over your carriage?”

“It's an urgent matter. I must get to town tonight.”

“I'll give it a try.”

Catherine let out a sigh of relief. “That is so kind of you, sir. I do appreciate it.”

The man took off the horse's saddle, laid it carefully on the ground and harnessed his mount to the carriage. He handed her the reins and went around to the back. She stood off to the side and gave the reins a snap as the man pushed from behind. To her surprise, on the second try, the carriage lurched forward over the rut and settled on the road proper.

“Well done!” she said, beaming. One hurdle overcome. Many more to go, but she was on her way.

The man pointed north. “There's a house called the Mount, owned by Mr. Morris Delcour, a few miles that way where you can spend the night. I'm sure someone there will be able to attend to you in the morning.”

How did this man know her home? He stood close to her, too close. His features were strong and regular, with a fine curved lip. Catherine would have remembered him if he'd been one of Morris's business colleagues, or any of the people she'd met after arriving from France.

“But you said we would go to town,” she said.

“You're mistaken. I said I'd take a look at your carriage, and that's what I did.”

“I'm afraid going north won't do, not at all. You see, I'm expected in New York. If I don't arrive...” She trailed off. What if she didn't arrive? No one knew where she was. No one cared where she was. Her stomach tightened into a knot.

“I'm expected to the north. And I'm late as it is. So you have two choices, it would appear,” he said. “You can walk south, or you can drive with me north.”

Catherine put her hands on her hips and looked up at the stars. She couldn't go back to the house like a runaway dog with its tail between its legs. Morris would laugh and call her stupid and incompetent, before sending her away for good to God knows where.

“I'm sorry, I'm afraid I didn't catch your name,” she said, stalling for time.

“My name is Benjamin. Benjamin Thomas.” His voice resonated even when he spoke softly.

“And where are you headed, Mr. Thomas?”

“I'm traveling for business.”

“That's rather vague.”

“Is this how you repay a good Samaritan?” Mr. Thomas leaned against the carriage and crossed his arms. “You're lucky you were discovered by me and not someone else. I would think you'd be more grateful.”

“A good Samaritan would take a lady where she wanted to go.”

“Not tonight, I'm afraid.”

He moved to the side of the carriage and held out his hand. Catherine reached out and was surprised at how it enveloped her own. She had always believed her hands and feet were far too large, but this man's made her own feel quite dainty. Catherine gathered her skirts with her free hand and settled into the seat.

Mr. Thomas picked up his saddle from the roadway. As he made his way around to the back of the carriage to store it on the rear rack, she gave the reins a sharp snap and the carriage heaved forward without him.

Catherine urged the horse to canter on and focused on the road in front of her. She felt terrible leaving him stranded like that, particularly after he'd stopped to assist her, but returning to the Mount was not an option. He knew where it was, and could reach it on foot. The moon was shining brightly now, and she reassured herself with the thought that he'd have plenty of light as he made his way.

Something thumped hard on the back of the carriage. Before she could turn around to see what was going on, a body hurtled into the seat next to her. She screamed and pulled the horse to a sharp halt, and Mr. Thomas crumpled to the floor of the carriage, his head by her feet and his legs landing hard in her lap.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” He clutched at the dash and awkwardly righted himself.

Catherine shoved his legs off and huddled as far in the corner of the seat as she could. In the small phaeton, they were already practically on top of each other. “What on earth? What do you think
you're
doing?” she asked.

“You could've killed me!”

“I didn't expect you to go leaping onto the back of the carriage like a madman.”

“And I didn't expect you to steal my horse.”

“I wouldn't have stolen it. I would've returned it to you somehow. I was only borrowing it.”

“You're quite mad.”

“You have no idea.”

They sat in silence for a moment. He rubbed his shoulder. “Are you quite finished? It's been a rather long day and I'd like to get on my way.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Only my pride. Now give me the reins, and let's have enough of this nonsense.”

Reluctantly, Catherine handed over the reins and stared straight ahead while Mr. Thomas, with a quick flick of his wrist, turned the carriage north.

* * * *

On the ride back to the Mount, Mr. Thomas didn't speak, and neither did Catherine. Once, when the carriage hit a particularly large bump, Catherine caromed into him. A strange spark traveled through her body and she picked up the scent of horses and leather and something faintly sweet, like vanilla, before pulling away.

He turned the carriage down the cyprus-lined driveway. In the distance, the house rose up in front of them. In the past, Catherine had taken delight in this particular view of the Mount, with its stately white columns and large portico. The architecture was symmetrical and solid.

Tonight, though, the house seemed ostentatious and ominous. The two chimneys jutted up into the dark sky on either side of the widow's walk and its large windows resembled empty, black eyes. Luckily, Morris snored terribly and preferred to sleep with the windows shut, which might prevent him from hearing their approach. The faster she could get rid of Mr. Thomas, the better.

Davis emerged from the house, rubbing the back of his head and yawning. Mr. Thomas startled when she called Davis by name, and stood back as she informed the sleepy old man she'd had a mishap on Bloomingdale Road and the bay was most likely standing in front of the barn door.

“After you've put the bay away, please take care of this man who kindly helped me.” She turned to face Mr. Thomas. “Thank you sir, for your assistance. Davis will help you get back on your way.”

Davis, shaking his head, shuffled off to the stable.

“You live here?” Mr. Thomas asked, incredulously. For the first time, to Catherine's satisfaction, he seemed confused.

“I am the lady of the house, yes. I am Mrs. Catherine Delcour.”

His face broke into a wide grin and he put his head back and laughed. So he had heard of her, heard the snide remarks and mockery everyone in town had entertained themselves with the past six months.

“Is that so amusing to you, Mr. Thomas? I'm glad my predicament is a source of such entertainment.”

He smiled and took a step toward her. “Your predicament is now my predicament, Mrs. Delcour.”

Catherine's head began to spin, most likely from the lack of food and sleep and the excitement of the past few hours. “You aren't making any sense. What on earth do you mean?”

“Luckily, there's plenty of time for me to explain, as I'll be staying here with you at the Mount.”

She placed her hands on her hips. “I don't think so. Under no circumstances will I have a stranger in my house. My husband would never allow it. Who do you think you are?”

“Please allow me to introduce myself,” he said with a flourish. “I am your brother-in-law, and Mr. Delcour has hired me to keep an eye on you. And from what I can tell, it looks like I arrived just in time.”