Page 60 of Sacrificing the Untamed Lady Henrietta
“He did. In fact, I looked into the addresses once again and realized that I was mistaken on many of them. I have corrected the problem. As such, if you would be a dear, might you put these out for the afternoon’s post?”
He looked somewhat sheepish. “Your husband has requested that I hold any letters that you bring to me, Lady Peterborough.”
“Has he, indeed?” A muscle twitched in her jaw, her teeth gritted in annoyance.How dare he.
“Yes, My Lady.”
“Very well, then I shall have to take them into town myself,” Henrietta replied with fierce defiance. Her eyes challenged Mr. Chambers to try and stop her.
“Oh no, My Lady, do not trouble yourself with such a strenuous endeavor. If you leave them with me, I will see to it that they find their way into the afternoon post.”
She flashed him a saccharine smile. “I do not think so, Mr. Chambers. I shall see to this myself, fear not.” Without another word, she returned upstairs to fetch her coat before making her way out of the Old Bell. At the main entrance, Mr. Chambers looked as though he was about to step out and hold her back, but her furious expression evidently made him think twice.
Instead, it was another figure that prompted her to halt in her tracks. Gerome emerged from the smoking parlor to the right-hand side of the main hallway, a concerned expression on his face.
“Lady Peterborough, I did not expect you back so soon,” he said.
“No, neither did I,” she admitted, relieved to have an ally against Mr. Chambers. “There was a minor incident at luncheon which forced us to return prematurely.”
“An incident, My Lady?”
“Yes, a trifling thing. Gunshots spooked the horse and I was thrown to the ground.”
He gasped in horror. “Are you quite well? Shall I send for the physician?”
“There is no need, Gerome, though I thank you for your kind offer.”
“Surely, you should take to your chambers after such a scare?”
Henrietta shrugged. “Perhaps, but I have some urgent business to attend to before I can attempt to rest.”
“Anything I can do for you?”
“No, thank you.”
“Are you venturing into town? Shall I accompany you? I am not an entirely appropriate chaperone, I realize, but it is better than no chaperone.”
“I am a married woman, Gerome, I shall do quite well on my own,” she replied, with a soft laugh. “If the Lord Marquess returns before I do, please let him know that I have gone on some errands. He will understand your meaning.”
He dipped his head in a bow. “Very well, My Lady. Please, do take care on your travels. And please, do tell his Lordship that I attempted to prevent you. I believe that is what he will prefer to hear.”
“I shall, Gerome.” With a warm smile, she breezed past him and out of the door.
Outside, a cold wind swept across the clifftop, snatching at her long hair as she struggled to keep her hat on top of her head. Several carriages waited at the side of the road. Walking up to the first one, she smiled at the driver.
“To the Scarborough postal office, if you please,” she said.
“Of course, My Lady.” He tipped his cap and helped her up into the carriage, before leaping onto the box. Henrietta sat back on the velveteen squabs and rested her head against the window as the carriage trundled away.
“You will not get between me and my dream, Lord Marquess,” she mumbled to herself as the beautiful seascape spread out beyond the pane. How she adored the seaside.And it had all started out with such promise.
As they headed into town, her mind drifted back to the way she had been thrown from the horse. A jolt in her ribs served as an additional reminder. In truth, she knew she ought to have stayed abed, as instructed, but she was not the type of woman to be told what to do. Her father had not succeeded, and neither would her husband. Not if she could help it.
However, she couldn’t help but recall the grim thought that had failed to abandon her mind. Now, more than ever, she was certain that her accident had been anything but accidental.
As it replayed in her head, she recounted how close the shots had been. They had not been the distant fire of hunters’ rifles. No, indeed, she and Ewan had not been near enough to the woodland for it to be hunters firing their weapons.
Seth is responsible for this, I am sure of it. He hates me enough to see me injured in any number of despicable ways. But does he hate me enough to see me die at his hand?
