Page 11 of Greystone’s Legacy (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #5)
Chapter Six
Freddie Grey had not anticipated travelling to London in the company of three ladies, particularly when stealth was of paramount importance.
Yet as he watched Hester's tiny aunts bustle about gathering their necessities, he could not help but admire their determination.
They had absolutely vetoed Hester's plans and gone about making their own, unconcerned with any arguments he or Hester put forth.
"We simply cannot allow you and Hester to travel unchaperoned," Aunt Cecilia had declared. "It would be most improper."
"And dangerous," added Aunt Felicity. "You never know what sort of ruffians one might encounter on the road to London. Even rowan might not be enough to ward them off!"
Freddie caught Hester's eye and noted the slight quirk of her lips. They both knew the real ruffians they needed to watch for were his own relations, but there seemed little point in mentioning this to the aunts.
"I appreciate your concern, ladies," he said carefully, "but I would not wish to put you to any inconvenience."
"Nonsense," both aunts chorused, causing Freddie to blink at their synchronicity.
"Besides," Hester added practically as her aunts scuttled off to carry on their packing, "they're quite right about the advantages of travelling as a family group. Those looking for you will be watching for a single gentleman, not a party of four with two middle-aged aunts."
The logic was sound, Freddie had to admit.
His horse had recovered well enough for travel, thanks to Mr. Bethel's careful ministrations, but they would need to sell the gelding in Hereford.
A coach would be far more suitable for a lengthy journey with ladies, and he would need the money to purchase one.
The risks of using public conveyances where his uncle's men might be watching was simply too great.
The morning dawned crisp and clear as they set out.
Freddie rode alongside the small borrowed cart containing the ladies and their luggage, keeping a watchful eye on the road ahead.
The aunts maintained a steady stream of conversation, punctuated by frequent concerns about the state of their bonnets and whether they had packed sufficient handkerchiefs.
"I do hope we remembered to bring enough tea," fretted the elder Miss Wynstanley. "One never knows what sort of establishments one might encounter between here and London."
"I packed three canisters, sister dear," replied her sister. "Though I fear we may run short if the journey takes longer than expected."
Hester caught Freddie's eye again and smiled, a private gesture that warmed him more than the weak spring sunshine. She was driving the cart, hands as competent on the quiet pony's reins as they seemed to be at any other activity she undertook. Her very presence steeled his resolve.
They reached Hereford by early afternoon, the busy town bustling with activity.
Freddie led his horse to a reputable dealer, trying not to betray his aristocratic bearing as he negotiated a price.
While he might have received more money if he had played the lordling, he might also have been more memorable, something he did not want.
He'd borrowed a hat which covered his hair, and wore Hester's father's old coat instead of his own, so hopefully the horse dealer would not recall him too well.
The horse was a fine animal, worth considerably more than he received, but beggars could not be choosers and the coins would purchase them suitable transportation and accommodations along their route, hopefully without having to dip into whatever funds Hester had brought with her.
Michaelmas having just passed, she would have been paid whatever rents she was due from her tenant farmers who ran their sheep on her land, but he could not imagine it was much.
"A shame to sell such a lovely creature," Hester murmured as she joined him, watching the horse being led away.
"Needs must," Freddie replied quietly. "Though I confess, I shall miss him.
Without his fleetness of foot, I should not have escaped my cousin and his men…
and I should never have found you." It was a painful thought, he discovered with some surprise, but he was coming to realise that Hester was increasingly important to him in ways he dared not examine too closely, not while his very life was in peril.
They found a decent if somewhat worn coach for sale at a reasonable price, along with a pair of mismatched geldings that looked sturdy enough for the journey. The vehicle's blue paint was faded and its springs had seen better days, but it would serve their purpose well enough.
"Quite charming," declared Aunt Cecilia, examining the coach's interior with evident approval. "Snug enough, if the weather turns cold. Though the cushions could do with new stuffing."
"And the curtains are rather shabby," added Aunt Felicity. "But I suppose one cannot expect the height of fashion in these circumstances." She sniffed a little dubiously. "A good thing I brought plenty of lavender. That will take care of any lingering mustiness."
Freddie arranged for the coach to be prepared while the ladies refreshed themselves at a nearby inn.
An hour later, they were ready to depart, their luggage secured and the horses harnessed.
He had hired a local man to drive, having decided that taking the reins himself might draw unwanted attention.
"Well then," said Aunt Cecilia, settling herself into the coach with assistance from both Freddie and the driver, "I suppose we are off on our grand adventure."
"Indeed we are, sister," agreed Aunt Felicity, accepting Freddie's hand to climb aboard. "Though I do hope we remembered to pack enough handkerchiefs."
Hester was the last to enter, pausing briefly beside Freddie. "Are you certain about this?" she asked softly. "There's still time to change your mind about the aunts and send them home with the cart."
"Oddly enough, I find I'm quite reconciled to the idea," he replied, surprised to discover it was true. "Your aunts may prove to be our best disguise."
With a final check of the horses and luggage, Freddie climbed into the coach himself, taking the rearward-facing seat beside Hester. As they rolled out of Hereford, he found himself studying her profile, wondering how this remarkable young woman had come to be so integral to his plans for survival.
The journey to London proved far more pleasant than Freddie had anticipated, despite the constant threat of discovery hanging over them.
He found himself watching Hester more often than was strictly proper, admiring the way she managed her aunts with gentle efficiency and maintained her composure through the various trials of travel.
Their progress was necessarily slow, the horses only able to make around thirty miles each day without becoming over-weary.
The aunts seemed content to while away the hours with endless rounds of speculation about London society and frequent stops for refreshment.
Freddie might have found their constant chatter tiresome, but Hester's occasional glances of amused understanding made it all quite bearable.
"I do hope we shall be able to take in some of the sights," Aunt Cecilia mused as they approached their second day of travel. "It has been an age since we visited the British Museum."
"Or Vauxhall Gardens," her sister added wistfully. "Though I suppose that would be quite impossible in our current circumstances."
"Perhaps another time," Hester suggested diplomatically, though Freddie noted the slight tension in her shoulders at the mention of public entertainments.
They both knew the danger was far too significant to risk him, at least, appearing in public, though he supposed the women could go without him.
A pang went through him at the thought of Hester seeing the sights of London for the first time without him.
He wanted to be the one to show her the capital's wonders; wanted to see the expressions of delight on her face.
Firmly, he pushed the thoughts aside. Survival needed to be his priority, not mooning over Hester!
Though it was difficult not to moon over her, when she sat beside him hour after hour, bearing up under the rigors of the journey with unfailing good humour. Her face was far more fascinating a study than the autumnal countryside passing by outside the carriage windows.
As evening approached on the third day of their journey, they stopped at a coaching inn, the horses requiring rest and the aunts insisting upon a proper meal.
Freddie surveyed the establishment with careful attention as their driver brought the coach to a halt.
It seemed respectable enough, though busy with travellers.
"I shall go in first and secure rooms," he told the ladies, helping each of them down from the coach in turn. "Wait here a moment, if you please."
The common room was crowded with travellers, filled with the smell of roasting meat and wood smoke. Freddie had just located the innkeeper across the room when a familiar voice caused his blood to run cold.
"Another bottle of your best claret," demanded Sebastian Grey from a corner table, his commanding tone carrying clearly across the room.
Freddie withdrew quickly into the shadows, his heart pounding. His cousin sat with his back to the door, but it would take only one chance glance for him to be spotted. He needed to warn the others before they entered.
Slipping back outside, he found Hester supervising the removal of a small trunk from the coach.
"We cannot stay here," he murmured urgently, taking her elbow. "Sebastian is inside."
Hester's eyes widened, but she maintained her composure admirably. "Aunts," she said calmly, "I fear this establishment is not quite suitable. The rooms appear to be full."
"But surely there must be something available," Aunt Felicity protested. "I am quite desperate for a cup of chamomile tea."