returned her look and reached into the inner pocket of his jacket. His map, which was unwaxed, damn it all, had grown damp next to his perspiring body. He unfolded it gingerly and ran his eyes along the erratic squiggles of railway line and road until he came, roughly, to their present location. His chest heaved with relief. By his own best estimate, they were at least a few miles away from their own turnoff from the main road.
In any case, he had the owner’s letter of confirmation still in his pocket, warm and wilting against his chest.
There was nothing to worry about.
“Very well,” he said, turning away from Lady Morley. “I suppose we can spare another hour, since we’ll soon have our horses back.”
“That’s ever so kind,” she replied, and wheeled the horse about, urging it into a trot up the drive. Finn began to walk in her wake. The duke paced along beside him, shielding him from the small signpost at the crossroads that read CASTEL SANT’AGATA 2 KM and pointed up the path Lady Morley had taken.
* * *
M y dear,” said Lady Somerton, ranging up next to Alexandra, “are you quite sure about all of this?”
Alexandra tilted her chin and replied briskly, “All of
what
, Lilibet? Really, it’s rather late to be asking those sorts of questions. We’ve made our decision, haven’t we? We’ve left England behind.”
“I don’t mean that,” her cousin said. “I mean all this business with the duke. This wager of yours, and making them give up their beds, and now the horses.” She spoke, as she always did, in that smooth mellifluous voice of hers, as if nothing on earth could annoy her. Even now she rode Wallingford’s horse with ease, though she’d probably never attempted to ride astride in her life, and certainly not with a five-year-old boy wriggling before her in the saddle.
“I don’t see what you mean,” Alexandra said. “They were quite happy to offer us assistance. We should have done them a disservice if we’d refused; just think of all that offended chivalry. I don’t know about you, darling, but I shouldn’t have been able to live with the guilt.”
Philip made a sudden grab for the reins, and the horse tossed his head at the intrusion. Lilibet’s body shifted, adjusting, and it occurred to Alexandra that her cousin was a much better horsewoman than she’d imagined. “All the same,” Lilibet was saying, as she pried the boy’s fingers away and recalled the horse to its duty, “Wallingford and . . . and the others know where we’re staying, and what we’re doing. They may mention it to their friends, or . . .”
“I assure you,” Alexandra said, a trifle haughty, “they will not. Mention it to whom, anyway? The birds? The rocks?”
“Don’t be tedious, Alex. They’ll write letters, send wires. They won’t cut themselves off completely. They’re men of the world.”
“But that’s the point. They’re supposed to be cutting themselves off, aren’t they? Scholarly seclusion.” Her horse, feeling her rising tension, began to mince his steps.
“But there’s a chance, isn’t there? A chance that word will reach home . . .”
“And then what?” Alexandra asked impatiently. “You’re afraid your husband will come galloping after you? Really, Lilibet.”
“Not for me,” she said, glancing down at the fine light brown hair bobbing along below her chin.
Alexandra spoke in a low voice. “We’re more than a match for Lord Somerton, I assure you. I shall turn him away with a shotgun, if I must.”
“But don’t you see,” Lilibet pleaded, “it’s better, far better, if word never reaches him.”
“If you must know, I’ve already spoken to Mr. Burke,” Alexandra said. “He may be a cad, but I’m confident he’s discreet.”
“Have you, now?” Lilibet said, in a different tone. “That may explain a great deal.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. That business with the boots. I should almost
In any case, he had the owner’s letter of confirmation still in his pocket, warm and wilting against his chest.
There was nothing to worry about.
“Very well,” he said, turning away from Lady Morley. “I suppose we can spare another hour, since we’ll soon have our horses back.”
“That’s ever so kind,” she replied, and wheeled the horse about, urging it into a trot up the drive. Finn began to walk in her wake. The duke paced along beside him, shielding him from the small signpost at the crossroads that read CASTEL SANT’AGATA 2 KM and pointed up the path Lady Morley had taken.
* * *
M y dear,” said Lady Somerton, ranging up next to Alexandra, “are you quite sure about all of this?”
Alexandra tilted her chin and replied briskly, “All of
what
, Lilibet? Really, it’s rather late to be asking those sorts of questions. We’ve made our decision, haven’t we? We’ve left England behind.”
“I don’t mean that,” her cousin said. “I mean all this business with the duke. This wager of yours, and making them give up their beds, and now the horses.” She spoke, as she always did, in that smooth mellifluous voice of hers, as if nothing on earth could annoy her. Even now she rode Wallingford’s horse with ease, though she’d probably never attempted to ride astride in her life, and certainly not with a five-year-old boy wriggling before her in the saddle.
“I don’t see what you mean,” Alexandra said. “They were quite happy to offer us assistance. We should have done them a disservice if we’d refused; just think of all that offended chivalry. I don’t know about you, darling, but I shouldn’t have been able to live with the guilt.”
Philip made a sudden grab for the reins, and the horse tossed his head at the intrusion. Lilibet’s body shifted, adjusting, and it occurred to Alexandra that her cousin was a much better horsewoman than she’d imagined. “All the same,” Lilibet was saying, as she pried the boy’s fingers away and recalled the horse to its duty, “Wallingford and . . . and the others know where we’re staying, and what we’re doing. They may mention it to their friends, or . . .”
“I assure you,” Alexandra said, a trifle haughty, “they will not. Mention it to whom, anyway? The birds? The rocks?”
“Don’t be tedious, Alex. They’ll write letters, send wires. They won’t cut themselves off completely. They’re men of the world.”
“But that’s the point. They’re supposed to be cutting themselves off, aren’t they? Scholarly seclusion.” Her horse, feeling her rising tension, began to mince his steps.
“But there’s a chance, isn’t there? A chance that word will reach home . . .”
“And then what?” Alexandra asked impatiently. “You’re afraid your husband will come galloping after you? Really, Lilibet.”
“Not for me,” she said, glancing down at the fine light brown hair bobbing along below her chin.
Alexandra spoke in a low voice. “We’re more than a match for Lord Somerton, I assure you. I shall turn him away with a shotgun, if I must.”
“But don’t you see,” Lilibet pleaded, “it’s better, far better, if word never reaches him.”
“If you must know, I’ve already spoken to Mr. Burke,” Alexandra said. “He may be a cad, but I’m confident he’s discreet.”
“Have you, now?” Lilibet said, in a different tone. “That may explain a great deal.”
“What on earth do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. That business with the boots. I should almost
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