Page 17 of Everything But the Earl
Chapter Five
Owen regarded Graceskeptically as the last of her trunks were loaded into his traveling coach. “There are just so many,” he murmured.
“I am moving houses,” she explained. “I need all my things.”
She smoothed a hand down the front of her dress. She’d changed out of her gauzy wedding gown and into a more sturdy traveling costume, although she missed the gown. She’d felt beautiful in it. The expression on Owen’s face when their eyes had first met from opposite ends of the church sanctuary was not one she’d forget anytime soon.
Her parents and her sister emerged from the house then. She’d told Owen she’d miss her family, but she wasn’t entirely sure that was true. Her sister was only ten years old; they had never been close. Her father was kind but distant, preferring to spend his time on business matters rather than with his family. Her mother spent most of her time on her rigorous social calendar. The person Grace had been closest to as a child had been her nanny, an older woman named Anne, who had died four years ago.
Perhaps that was why it didn’t seem like such a hardship to travel across the country to take up residence in her new husband’s estate. She could build her own family there. The only thing keeping her in London were these people who barely knew her. Her father petted her head and her mother made a big show of hugging her while her sister looked on indifferently, likely anxious to get back to whateveradventure her dolls had been on when she’d been interrupted to come outside to see her off.
She looked at Owen, who smiled and rocked on his heels.
It was not the way of aristocratic parents to give their children much love and affection, not when they could hire nannies and governesses to show off their wealth and status. But if Grace ever had children, she’d make sure they knew they were loved by their parents.
And now she was anxious to be off. She walked over to the carriage.
Owen shook hands with Grace’s father before he followed her over. Then he grasped her waist and lifted her inside. She settled into her seat, and once he’d climbed in, he rapped on the roof. The carriage slowly rumbled down the street.
Owen had changed as well, into simpler clothes. Sleek brown trousers, a brown jacket, a fine lawn shirt, heavy Hessian boots.
“A little later than I wanted to leave,” Owen said, sliding his watch back into his pocket, “but we should still make it to the first posting inn by dinner time.”
“You make this journey often?” Grace asked.
“A half dozen times a year, yes. Well, perhaps less frequently since I took up my father’s seat in Parliament. My sister’s husband owns a house in London and in Surrey, so I do not have to travel far to see her and her family. But the estate in Wales does beg my attention sometimes.”
“I was asking if your drivers know the way and where to stop,” said Grace. “My mother took us to Bath last year, but the driver had no knowledge of the way, and we kept getting dreadfully lost. The inn we stopped at to rest seemed…disreputable.”
Owen chuckled. “Yes, my staff knows the way, and more importantly, I only stop at reputable inns on my journeys west.” He winked.
Grace realized that they’d be spending their wedding night in oneof those inns.
“This first inn,” Grace said, “the one we’re to stay in tonight. Is it nice?”
Owen nodded. “Yes. We’re getting a late start, but I anticipated that, so we’re only going as far as Oxford tonight. I attended school there and know the town quite well. The inn I’ve chosen is lovely. I’ve stayed there before. And they are expecting us, so we will have the best room they have available.”
“Wonderful.” She was nervous about the night, though. She’d never spent time in an intimate space with a man. She supposed she was allowed now that they were married—that this was expected of her—but it was different and quite intimidating.
“You’re nervous.”
“As I said earlier, I have a sense of what is expected of me, but, yes, I am nervous.”
“No need to hide that. I want you to be honest with me. I hope not to frighten or intimidate you, but rather that we grow close.”
The streets of London were…bumpy. The carriage rumbled and shook down the street. After one especially extreme bump, Grace felt herself fly off her seat. Owen caught her and held her close to his side.
“The streets of London are a travesty,” Owen said. “Parliament should spend the money to fix them, but Prinny needs a new pavilion or something, so we must take our own lives in our hands just to leave the city limits.”
Grace smiled and smoothed down her skirts. “I do not know much about politics, I will admit. Is that the sort of thing you vote for? To pay to fix the roads?”
“Among many other things, yes. The Crown, of course, has some say, but Parliament determines where the country’s money is spent. That is, we gather money when people pay taxes and then determine how to spend it. Weshouldspend it on the people of England, but Prince George has other ideas.”
“What does he want to spend money on?”
“Mostly himself.” Owen sounded resentful.
“Have you met him?”
