Page 12 of Greystone’s Legacy (To All The Earls I’ve Loved Before #5)
"The next inn is only a few miles further," Freddie assured them, though he had no idea if this was true. "Much more suitable, I should think."
"Oh, very well, very well," Aunt Cecilia said grumpily. "Driver, hand me back up."
A burst of laughter from inside the inn made him start.
Sebastian's voice carried clearly through the open door, and he sounded as though he was approaching.
Without thinking, Freddie grabbed Hester's hand and pulled her around the corner of the building, into a narrow passage between the inn and its stable block.
They pressed themselves against the rough stone wall, barely breathing as Sebastian's voice grew closer. Freddie was acutely aware of Hester's proximity, of the warmth of her body next to his in the gathering dusk. Her hand remained clasped in his, trembling slightly.
"The old man can't last much longer," Sebastian was saying to someone. "Once he's gone, we'll soon sort out this mess with Freddie."
Hester's fingers tightened on Freddie's, and he found himself drawing her closer, as much for his own comfort as hers. They stood in tense silence until Sebastian's voice faded, heading back inside the inn.
"He's gone," Hester whispered, but neither of them moved. In the dim light, Freddie could see her face turned up to his, her eyes wide with concern and something else, something that made his heart beat faster for entirely different reasons than fear.
Later, he would never be quite certain who moved first. Perhaps they both did, drawn together by the peculiar intimacy of shared danger and close quarters.
His lips found hers in the gathering darkness, and for a moment the world narrowed to nothing but the softness of her mouth and the warmth of her body against his.
The kiss was brief but profound, ending as suddenly as it had begun. They stood looking at each other in the shadows, both slightly stunned by what had just transpired.
"We should return to the aunts," Hester said softly, though she made no move to leave.
"Yes," Freddie agreed, equally reluctant to break the moment. "They'll be wondering where we've got to."
They found the aunts exactly where they had left them, apparently oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded.
"There you are," Aunt Felicity exclaimed. "We were beginning to worry."
"No need for concern," Freddie assured them, helping the ladies back into the coach while steadfastly avoiding Hester's gaze. "But we really must press on to the next inn."
As they continued their journey through the gathering night, Freddie found his thoughts returning again and again to that stolen moment in the shadows.
Beside him in the coach, Hester sat with her hands folded primly in her lap, but he noticed she too seemed rather more quiet than usual, keeping her face firmly turned away from him, even though there was nothing outside the window to look at now it was dark.
The aunts, blessedly, appeared to attribute their mutual distraction to concern over the 'unsuitable' inn, and filled the silence with their own conversation.
Yet whenever the coach swayed, bringing Hester's shoulder briefly against his, Freddie found himself remembering the softness of her lips and wondering if he would ever find the courage, or the opportunity, to kiss her again.
Greystone House loomed before them in the grey London morning, its imposing facade a stark reminder of everything Freddie stood to lose. He studied the familiar windows and doorways from their vantage point across the square, searching for any sign that his uncle's men might be watching.
"It seems quiet enough," he murmured to Hester, who stood beside him while her aunts waited in their hired hackney coach. After selling their travel-worn vehicle, they had decided a local conveyance would draw less attention.
"Are you certain about this plan?" Hester asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "It seems rather... elaborate."
Freddie glanced at the aunts, who were practically vibrating with excitement at their role in the scheme.
"I can't risk some, or all, of the servants in the house being my uncle's spies; we must get inside unseen, and this is the only plan we could come up with that seemed remotely possible.
I believe it may be just elaborate enough to work.
Your aunts can be rather convincing when they set their minds to it. "
Indeed, Aunt Cecilia had spent the entire morning coaching her sister in what she termed "the proper way to create a society sensation." Their enthusiasm for the task was somewhat alarming, but Freddie had to admit their plan might actually succeed. Indeed, he desperately hoped it would.
"Very well then," Hester said, squaring her shoulders. "Shall we begin?"
The aunts emerged from the hackney with remarkable dignity, considering their intended purpose. Both were dressed in their finest morning clothes, which while somewhat dated, were perfectly respectable.
"Now remember, sister," Aunt Cecilia said, adjusting her bonnet, "we are absolutely convinced that this is indeed the residence of our dear friend Lady Worthington."
"Of course, of course," Aunt Felicity replied, practically bouncing with anticipation. "And we simply cannot be persuaded otherwise, no matter what anyone says."
Freddie led Hester around to the small side gate into the back garden, the pair of them waiting behind a wall covered in wisteria vines while the aunts made their way to the front door.
Through the morning quiet, they soon heard the aunts' voices raised in genteel argument with what sounded like the butler.
"But surely Lady Worthington must be at home," Aunt Felicity was saying. "We have come all the way from Wales specifically to call upon her."
"I do assure you, madam, there is no Lady Worthington in residence here," came the butler's increasingly frustrated response.
"Nonsense," declared Aunt Cecilia. "This is certainly her house. I remember these very steps from our last visit. Though I must say, the lions look rather different. Have they been cleaned?"
Freddie had to admire their commitment to the performance.
He could hear laughter, servants being drawn to the hallway to witness the rather stuffy butler becoming increasingly annoyed as he tried to get rid of the aunts without being rude.
At last, he and Hester crept out of their hiding spot, slipped through the French doors into the study, and then through a small door at the back of the room into the servants' hallway.
The kitchen staff would be busy preparing the noonday meal and everyone else in the front hall witnessing the aunts' performance, leaving the back stairs temporarily unguarded.
"This way," he whispered, taking Hester's hand. The touch sent a jolt through him, remembering their kiss at the coaching inn, but now was not the time for such thoughts.
They ascended the stairs as quietly as possible, pausing at each landing to listen for approaching footsteps. From below, they could still hear the aunts' voices, now apparently engaged in a detailed description of Lady Worthington's supposed drawing room décor.
"I distinctly recall the Chinese wallpaper," Aunt Felicity was insisting. "With the lovely blue birds."
"Green birds, surely, sister," Aunt Cecilia corrected. "Though perhaps the colour has faded."
Freddie led Hester through the familiar corridors, his heart pounding with each step. His grandfather's rooms were on the first floor. As they approached, Freddie was relieved to see no sign of his uncle's personal servant standing guard.
They reached the door to Lord Greystone's sitting room just as a commotion erupted below. The aunts had apparently decided to escalate their performance.
"Well, if you insist this is not Lady Worthington's residence, we shall simply have to examine every room to be certain," the elder Miss Wynstanley announced. "Come along, sister."
Freddie grinned as he heard the butler squawk with outrage. He squeezed Hester's hand once before releasing it, then knocked softly on his grandfather's door.
"Come in," called a familiar voice, slightly weaker than Freddie remembered but still carrying that note of authority he had known all his life. Thank God, it sounded as though the old man was lucid!
Freddie opened the door, his throat tight with emotion as he saw his grandfather seated in his favourite chair by the window. The old man looked up from his book, his eyes widening in recognition.
"Grandfather," Freddie said softly, crossing the room in three quick strides to kneel beside the chair.
Lord Greystone's hand trembled as he reached out to touch Freddie's face, as though ensuring he was real. "My boy," he whispered. "I feared the worst when Edmund said you had disappeared."
"I'm here now," Freddie assured him, covering his grandfather's hand with his own. "Why are you in London? I went to Greystone Court to find you!"
"Edmund tried to keep me there with his damn quack doctor," the old man grumbled. "Bleeding me and giving me far too much laudanum, ghastly stuff! Started tipping it into my potted ferns."
Freddie couldn't help but laugh, even though he felt sickened at this description of yet more of his uncle's villainy.
"When I was in my right mind again, I ordered the carriage to come to London. I wanted to see you." His grandfather gripped Freddie's hand, surprising strength in it. "We're in a pickle, my boy. I let Edmund take on too much, in my grief after your father passed. And now he's drunk on power!"
From the doorway, Hester kept watch, but Freddie could see her soft smile as she witnessed their reunion. The sound of the aunts' voices still carried from below, now apparently engaged in a detailed critique of the entrance hall's decoration, buying them precious time.