Page 30 of The Proposition
“Do not listen to her,” Clemency bit out, too angry to sew a single stitch. “You have suffered enough heartbreak for two lifetimes, Nora, you have earned whatever life you prefer.”
At that, her sister slowly smiled. “My heart is mending, though it should heal faster under calmer circumstances.”
“Then you must come with me to London,” Clemency told her, swiveling to face her sister. Honora was the true seamstress of the family, able to knock together a simple muslin morning dress in just a few days. Finishing a more elaborate pattern like the ball gown she was presently sewing for Clemency required only a bit more time.
“Only one or two temptations exist for me in London, but I will think on it,” Honora said as she shrugged. “Though that reminds me, I wondered if you might call on a friend for me while in town. We were not long acquainted, but a letterhand delivered by you, dearest, would be charming indeed. Would you consider it?”
“Of course! It would be my pleasure to be your courier.”
“Ah, you say that now, but the moment you set foot in the city you will be bombarded with invitations and obligations, balls, and teas, and long afternoons in the park. If you cannot find the time to call on her I will not be offended.” Honora finally paused in her work, setting her hands in her lap and giving Clemency a long, meaningful look.
“And?” Clemency raised her brows. “Out with it, what admonishment is brewing there in that sisterly brain of yours?”
“In some ways I do wish to accompany you, dearest, but only to protect you.”
Honora knew little of what had transpired at Beswick during her last visit, and Clemency felt a guilty knot tangle up in her stomach. With her quick mind and knack for observation, Honora must have noticed that she was holding something back. Something like a brief, ill-advised but still life-altering kiss. But she couldn’t drag her sister into it, and more…Clemency’s cheeks grew shamefully hot. She was not proud of what she had agreed to—tricking Turner Boyle until he could have his comeuppance was not the sort of behavior Honora approved of. And how could she? Clemency herself hardly approved of it. A shadowed, annoying, truthful corner of her heart told her that it was wrong and that she was acting this way only because her pride had been wounded. But whenever she tried to remove herself from it all, whenever she entertained writing both Turner and Audric and cutting herself off from both of them, her mind rebelled.
Her heart knew better, her mind did not. The kiss lingered. She only wanted Turner Boyle to feel as she did when he humiliated her at the dance—small and foolish, and perhaps even afraid.
Was that so bad?
“You have nothing to fear, Nora, and nor do I,” Clemency said, taking her hand and patting it reassuringly. “After all I will be with William and Tansy, and whenever a question arises I will ask myself what you would do in my place.”
“That is a thoughtful fiction you have just told me,” Honora replied in a whisper. Her eyes grew distant, and she picked up her needle again, withdrawing from Clemency’s grasp. When she returned to her sewing, it was with less enthusiasm than before. “I wonder, sister, is it a fiction you are also telling yourself?”
10
The rear left wheel on the carriage cracked six miles north of Ide Hill, leaving William, Tansy, and Clemency stranded beside a vastly green and depressingly empty pasture. The wet mist of morning had never dissipated, trapped beneath a threatening gray canopy of clouds, the view in every direction a little muzzy, the feel of the day itself sinister, cold, and damp. They had left their lodgings at Tonbridge behind at half-past six, and while rain threatened they had made good time on the road to London until the wheel gave out, wedged into a deep, rocky hole, splintering when the horses lurched forward at the crack of the driver’s whip.
Presently, William and their driver, Mr. Dandle, stood outside in the chill fog inspecting the damage. They had managed to push the carriage off the road and onto the edge of the pasture, where it sat, the horses stamping and idle, while the men discussed what to do.
Clemency craned her neck to watch them, forehead against the glass, Tansy chewing the edge of her finger on the bench across from her.
“Mr. Dandle will need to unhitch one of the horses and go for aid,” Clemency said with a sigh. “I do not think we shall be moving again for hours and hours.”
“What an ill start.” Tansy pouted. She darted across the seats suddenly, huddling close to Clemency. “Oh dear. You do not think there are many highwaymen in Kent, do you?”
Clemency smiled and pulled off her bonnet, setting it in her lap and preparing for a protracted wait. At least Tansy was amusing company, and she had packed several books that could easily and pleasantly dissolve the hours. Somehow, she doubted Tansy shared her enthusiasm over the prospect of protracted reading time. “I think we should die of boredom, Tansy, long before we die at the hands of criminals.”
“Let us pray that you are right. I must say, I am glad we are traveling together,” Tansy said, smiling as she leaned back on the seat, rolling her eyes up to stare at the ceiling. “Otherwise I should be stranded alone in this carriage with nobody to comfort me. Sometimes I think your mother’s poor nerves have spread to me like the pox!”
The men outside had stopped talking, both of them turning north to face the road. Clemency squirmed for a better vantage but could not see what they might be observing. Her breath fogged the glass as she spoke.
“I see the bravery to set sail on adventures of commerce and fortune does not run in the blood, then,” Clemency teased.
“No! Not at all. And anyway, I have my mother’s constitution. She always hated the sea; she could never keep her feet even on a ferry.”
“I think someone is coming,” Clemency said, at last spying the object in the distance traveling swiftly down the road toward them. “Another carriage.”
“We are saved!”
“If they stop…” Clemency unlatched the door and helped herself down, while Tansy squealed with fright behind her.
“You must stay inside! What if those are the highwaymen? You mustn’t leave me all alone in here!”
“They would be very fashionable robbers, indeed,” Clemency called back. She gestured for Tansy to join her but her sister-in-law would not budge. Shrugging, Clemency shut the door and wedged her bonnet back on her head, tying it tightly against the blustering wind. Then she trudged over to where William and Mr. Dandle stood waving to get the oncoming coachman’s attention.
“Ah. Clemency. Yes, do stand there, perhaps the enticement of a damsel will encourage these folk to stop,” William said. He smirked at her, his right fist propped on his hip, holding his long, black coat open while Dandle waved his hat above his head and shouted.
