Part 20 (2/2)

After a mile or two, her delight and desire to kiss him had vanished. Caroline was convinced Mr. Mitch.e.l.l had not bathed for quite some time and envied his wife her death. But as the rain pelted down, she told a much-abridged version of her story, grateful she had experience prevaricating and writing romances. Every sentence or two, she brought her gloved wrist to her nose, inhaling the wet leather so she would not have to inhale Mr. Mitch.e.l.l. She made no mention of drugging and kidnapping, but painted Edward as the villain of the piece.

Mr. Mitch.e.l.l seemed squarely in Edward's corner, however. ”So, you're telling me he gave you one more chance, and you've run away.”

”Perhaps I've not made myself clear. We had a marriage of convenience, but it wasn't convenient for anyone, least of all my husband. We never got along, not for one minute.” Except in bed, but she was not going to shock the poor man. She'd already told too much. ”It's much better we go our separate ways, as we've been doing these past five years. I've quite a terrible temper, you know. If you were married to me, you'd think I was a perfect shrew.” She sniffed her gray sleeve, hoping for a trace of jasmine.

”A man likes a woman with some spirit,” Mr. Mitch.e.l.l countered. ”I miss fighting with my Abby, and that's the truth.”

”Have you thought of marrying again?”

He snorted. ”Who would have me?”

”Your holding is prosperous, is it not? I imagine you're a very hard worker.”

”Aye, that I am.”

”Well,” Caroline said, ”you can provide financial security, which is very important.”

”I don't want to be married for my money.”

Caroline thought a very great deal of money would have to be involved to overcome his rank odor. ”Tell me about your house. Is there a bathing chamber?”

”Abby used a copper tub in the kitchen.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he remembered, but she had to bring him back to the present. ”Do you use it, sir?”

”If you're telling me I offend your nose, I know it,” he said gruffly. ”I've been too busy with the harvest to worry about was.h.i.+ng. I was hoping this rain will take some of the dirt away.”

She patted his arm. ”You'll never catch another woman unless you take better care of yourself, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l. Women are superficial creatures. A bit of soap and a good scrubbing, and they'll be putty in your hands. You'll see.”

He was silent. Caroline hoped he wouldn't dump her on the side of the road for her unsolicited advice. It was one of the oddest conversations she'd ever had, and considering her unusual neighbors, that was saying a great deal. ”I'm sorry if you think me too bold. I told you I was a shrew.”

”I reckon you mean well. I'll think about what you said.”

The rest of the journey was very quiet, save for the rain spattering the canvas and the horse plodding through puddles. Caroline imagined she looked as wretched as Mr. Mitch.e.l.l smelled. As the sky lightened, the rain did not let up. Caroline was chilled to the bone. Soaked and miserable.

She cheered up when they pa.s.sed a white-painted signpost. Not much farther. ”Mr. Mitch.e.l.l, I don't suppose you know of a jeweler or p.a.w.nshop that is open at this hour of the morning?”

His fuzzy gray eyebrows knit. ”Don't tell me you don't have any money.”

She smiled. ”All right then, I won't.”

”Lord have mercy. You're cork brained. Lord Christie is well rid of you, I'd say.”

”That is what I've been telling you these past five miles.”

”What are you planning to sell?”

”I have a few trinkets.”

He pulled in the reins. ”Whoa, Ajax. Let's see them.”

Oh, dear. If he tried to rob her, she supposed she could bolt from the cart and make a mad dash into the woods. How lowering to think her confidence in him had been misplaced. Her face must have betrayed her alarm, for he growled at her.

”Don't look at me like that, Lady Christie. I'm not going to take advantage of your stupidity. If I'm to go a-wooing again, I'll need something to sweeten the pot. After I take my bath, of course.” He patted the purse tied to his belt. ”I can trade you your fare for a bauble or two.”

”I do beg your pardon. The last few days have been very stressful.”

”Aye,” he said sarcastically. ”Your husband sets you up in a fine home and wants to read you a list. Sounds brutal.”

”You men all stick together.” She took off her gloves, unpinned her pocket and pulled out the lumpy handkerchief.

Mr. Mitch.e.l.l's eyes widened. ”You really are a ninnyhammer. What if I weren't me but some rogue? I could steal you blind.”

”I'm a good judge of character,” Caroline lied.

”Hmpf.” His thick fingers picked up Edward's pearl ring.

”Oh, no, not that one.” She slipped it on her own finger. ”Maybe this?”

He picked up a cameo ring and held it up to his eye. ”Too plain.”

”You really can't go wrong with an Italian cameo, Mr. Mitch.e.l.l. Look, here's a matching pin. They're not plain at all. Just look at the detail!” In fact, they were not her favorites, and certainly worth the sacrifice if she could get to London.

”I don't know.”

The man drove a hard and expensive bargain. Caroline had to throw in a rose-gold bracelet and a silver chain before he forked over any money. She would have been far better off waiting until a jeweler opened.

”The next Mrs. Mitch.e.l.l will be a very lucky woman,” Caroline said graciously, if she had plenty of clothespins for her nose.

Ashford was bustling with energy, although the day was gray and gloomy. Mr. Mitch.e.l.l was not offended when his offer of a turnip for the road was refused, and dropped her in the yard of the inn fifteen minutes before the first coach was to leave. Caroline purchased her ticket and a pasty, and earned the opprobrium of the other pa.s.sengers as they took in her lack of luggage, sodden clothing, ruined shoes and the lingering aromatic aftermath of Mr. Mitch.e.l.l.

It was not quite dawn. Caroline waited nervously, expecting Edward to clatter up on the cobblestones on a white steed, until she climbed into the coach and watched the rain drip down the window pane. At each posting house, she sank deeper into the squabs, hoping Edward had not discovered her perfidy.

The bells of London finally woke her from a doze. The rain had stopped and the world was bathed in suns.h.i.+ne, streets and rooftops sparkling with diamond drops. She was home. Almost. And happy, of course. How could she not be? She was dry and determined to put the past behind her.

Chapter 22.

The castle's cold walls surrounded her, each shadow a wretched wraith of remembrance.

-The Prince's Promise.

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