Page 48 of The Duke's Inconvenient Bride
“There is a small town we will be arriving in shortly,” he said without looking at her. “The inn there, the Fox and Hound, is comfortable and we will be spending the night.”
She nodded, pleased that they weren’t making the journey all at once. It could be done if they changed horses and rode through the night, but it would be quite unpleasant. She’d prefer to stretch her legs and have a room to herself.
Emma looked around for something she could use as a bookmark, but not seeing anything, she attempted to commit the page to memory so she could resume reading from there tomorrow.
She glanced at the duke—her husband—but he still didn’t seem inclined to make conversation, so she scooted closer to the carriage wall and rested her head against it. Vibrations from the road buzzed through her cheek, but the soft leather and the padding lessened it to the degree where they didn’t bother her as she closed her eyes.
Had Violet traveled with this level of comfort?
For all of the awkwardness between her and Ashford, the carriage was well-appointed, and she couldn’t have asked for better traveling arrangements. Especially since they’d be stopping at an inn for the night, where she’d presumably have a soft bed and warm food.
Violet had probably had to ride nonstop toward Scotland so that their uncle wouldn’t catch up with her. Emma felt a flash of sympathy before recalling that Violet’s actions had led to her being here in a carriage bound for Norfolk, miles away from her family.
Of course, Emma could not hold Violet completely responsible. She had made her own choices. Her parents might have encouraged her down this road, but they hadn’t forced her hand.
Still, if Violet had been minorly inconvenienced by less-than-luxurious travel, Emma would draw a smidgeon of pleasure from that.
The carriage bumped over a pothole, and Emma’s head bounced against the leather. She winced and sat up straight to avoid it happening again.
Fortunately, she didn’t get sick during carriage rides as her mother did. A fact she was grateful for if she was going to be making trips back and forth from London,
Hopefully, Ashford would not mind visiting her family. She wanted to see Sophie blossom into a young woman and to support her during her season so she could have her choice of match—whomever that might be.
She snuck a look at Ashford out of the corner of her eye. Perhaps he would be able to advise her about the character of any young men who caught Sophie’s attention.
But she was getting ahead of herself. She had at least two years of marriage to navigate before Sophie would have a season.
The first two years of a long marriage that stretched out ahead of her. She was tied to this man she didn’t really know or understand. She would have time to remedy that. Ashford may have said he didn’t want a love match, but surely he could have nothing against being friends with his wife. Anything could grow from there.
A faint glow lit the horizon.
“That’s our destination,” Ashford said, breaking the silence.
“We will be there soon then,” Emma said.
Ashford didn’t reply. Honestly, Emma wasn’t sure whether she’d expected him to. The man seemed to like the quiet.
They drove in silence for another fifteen minutes, the lights gradually growing brighter and more defined. As they arrived on the outskirts of the village, Emma glanced out the window. Small, neat houses lined the street, but she couldn’t see anyone out and about.
The carriage turned into a courtyard outside a large wooden building painted dark red that had a sign above the door that read Fox and Hound.
Ashford got out first and offered Emma his hand. Hesitantly, she laid her hand atop his and allowed him to help her out. While she subtly shook the pins and needles from her legs, he exchanged a few words with his coachman, and then the carriage was taken away.
His arm still interlinked with hers, Ashford led Emma into the inn. She gazed around at the brown walls and wooden floor and then smiled at the rosy-cheeked woman who greeted them.
“It’s the Duke of Ashford,” the woman exclaimed in a broad accent. “And this must be the new duchess.”
“Indeed,” Ashford said. “Mrs. Lemmings, please allow me to introduce Her Grace, Emma Stanhope, the Duchess of Ashford.”
Emma gripped him more tightly to steady herself. She shouldn’t be surprised to hear him refer to her by a title she wasunaccustomed to, yet she was. She didn’t feel like much of a “Her Grace”, and to be honest, she wasn’t certain she’d known that the duke’s surname was Stanhope.
“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Emma said.
“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.” Mrs. Lemmings bobbed a curtsey. “I hope you’ll enjoy your stay with us.”
“I’m sure we will,” Emma said.
Mrs. Lemmings glanced from her to the duke. “Come with me, and I’ll show you to your rooms. Your travel bags will be brought in shortly.”
