Page 172 of Harpy of the Ton
“The horse bolted and threw me,” Bella said. “And the last thing I want is to cause trouble for your sister. I intend to send for her as soon as I’ve reached London.”
“Why, because you cannot survive without a maid?”
“No!” Bella replied. “I’m fond of Connie and cannot bear the thought of her suffering as a result of my flight.”
“For pity’s sake, Luke, don’t be an arse,” Millie said. “Help Bella up, then get your skinny hide back inside before you wake the whole village. Mind you say nothin’, or I’ll cut your bollocks off.”
The lad let out a huff.
Bella held out her hand. “Your loyalty to your sister does you credit, Luke,” she said. “You have my word that I’ll do everything I can to ensure her safety. Tell her this when you next see her.”
The lad stared at her hand, his eyes widening. Then he took it and nodded. “Perhaps what Connie said about you was true.”
“Which was?”
Even in the low light of the dawn, Bella could see he was blushing.
“Did she perhaps say that the spoiled Lady Arabella has mellowed into a woman with the potential to be a little less disagreeable?” she suggested.
The lad hesitated, and Millie slapped him on the arm. “Stop your gawking, you fool. We need to get going.”
“Right you are, Miss Millie.”
The boy helped Bella onto the cart, and Millie followed. “Remember, Luke, not a word if you value your balls.”
“You can trust me, Miss Millie. My Sara would chew my balls off herself if she knew I’d let you down.” The boy touched his cap and nodded to Bella. “I wish you well, your ladyship.”
Millie grasped the reins, then issued a soft command, and the horse set off. She steered the cart across the courtyard, and Bella winced at the clatter of hooves. But other than a boy scurrying along the street carrying a basket, the world had yet to wake.
*
Bella relaxed intoher seat, lulled by the motion of the cart. This time tomorrow she’d be safely on the London coach—perhaps even under Mr. Stockton’s protection.
The road led through a forest, but the sun, which had long since conquered the dawn mist, filtered through the trees. Bella tipped her face upward, relishing the birdsong in the air, together with the distant rush of water from the nearby river.
“Look!” Millie cried.
Bella opened her eyes. The cart rounded a bend in the road and the forest thinned out to open country. On the horizon was a line of trees, above which rose a square tower with battlements.
“That’s the church at Ancombe Mills.”
“It looks more like a castle,” Bella said.
“It dates back to the Norman conquest.”
“How do you know…” Bella began, but trailed away with shame.
“How can I know history, seein’ as I’m a whore?”
“Forgive me, I didn’t…”
Millie laughed good-naturedly. “I’m fond of history, and like nothing better of an evening than to tuck myself into a chair with a book. Don’t believe everything you see at first glance, Bella.You have to look closer. The painted peacock who earns her keep giving pleasure to lonely men is nothing like the woman inside. Just likeLady Arabellais nothing likeBella. We women must disguise our true selves to survive in a world ruled by men.”
“Then I thank you for honoring me with your true self, Millie,” Bella said. “It’s a mark of true friendship—and I can think of no one better as a friend.”
“Lawrence is a fool for lettin’ you go,” Millie said.
She resumed her attention on the road, and Bella watched the tower loom higher as they drew near.
