Page 78 of Till Death Us Do Part: Book 2
Opening some of them, he saw a bottle of wine.
Amanda let out a happy sigh. “Oh, now that is something new. What do we have?”
She took the bottle and found it to be a very old, probably Spanish vintage. With a laugh, she started pulling out more bottles and found several more Spanish wines, three with German writing, four or five in Italian, and a bottle of rather old-looking port.
Darcy examined the port carefully after wiping the dust off it. “Are these for sale?”
Amanda dug down through the box until she found a sheaf of papers. One was an inventory of what had been shipped and their probable values. She showed that to Darcy for his opinion, while reading a note from her buyer saying that theyhad purchased ‘everything contained in the room’ in an estate auction and found the wine in a hidden cabinet that looked like a bookshelf. There were three more crates already shipped to London, but this was for sale or consumption as desired.
She looked at the bottle of port. “Port you know comes from Portugal, I suppose.”
“Yes, it originated in Porto. Did you ever go there?”
She shrugged. “No. I planned to once but did not because of the war.”
The thought seemed to make her sad, as the war did for many people, so Darcy decided to change subjects, and perform the task he had come for.
“Mrs Thorne, would you consider riding out with me? I have something I would like to show you.”
She looked at him cautiously, without answering for a moment.
He thought she was likely to demur, so he added, “Of course, it goes without saying that I am simply taking advantage of the widow’s exemption to the rules of propriety. It is just a ride—nothing more and nothing less.”
He could see her wavering, and he imagined that in her head there was a battle looming between accepting behaviour that, to the untrained observer, would appear courting-like, and her desire to ride or spend time with him. He hoped for the latter but would accept the former.
“I do not often ride.”
“But you enjoy it?”
She looked at him, seemed to sigh a little, and replied, “I do, but not enough to board my own horse, and I am not a good enough horsewoman to take my chances with a rental.”
Very carefully, Darcy said, “I have the perfect horse for you. He looks intimidating, but once you know him, you will learn he is about as frightening as a rag doll.”
She laughed. “Well then, by all means, let us see this frightening-looking rag doll of yours. When were you planning this abduction?”
“I was thinking Sunday afternoon.”
She looked at him carefully for quite some time. Darcy thought, but could not really prove, that she was trying to work out a good reason to reject him. He had belatedly learned that Elizabeth had been doing the same thing at the Netherfield Ball, but he was at least marginally more aware by then.
He said, quite gently, “I see your indecision, Mrs Thorne. I would ask you to think only of your own comfort. If you are uncomfortable with me, I can bring—”
She put her hand on his arm. “You need not bring a chaperone. I trust you.”
A warm feeling welled up inside him. Trust was a precious commodity, and she had just bestowed it on him. He wanted very much to earn it.
He whispered, “Will you go, then?”
“Yes, I would like that. Shall we say one o’clock?” she finally said with a definitive nod.
“That would be lovely.”
The late summer sun was bright but not too hot as Darcy escorted Mrs Thorne to the stable.
Upon arrival, she looked them over. “You have the saddles backwards.”
He chuckled, not in the least convinced that she did not know exactly how matters stood, since she fearlessly walked over to Omega.
“Are you to be my rag doll, my beautiful boy?” she cooed, then punctuated it by handing him two carrots she had brought for the purpose.
