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The Adventurous Bride. Miranda Jarrett
Читать онлайн.Название The Adventurous Bride
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781472040497
Автор произведения Miranda Jarrett
Серия Mills & Boon Historical
Издательство HarperCollins
“We’re leaving Calais directly, my lady,” Miss Wood said. “I have had enough of this wretched inn and the insufferable people that own it. I’m told our coach is ready, and now that we don’t have to wait for Monsieur Leclair to join us, we’ll depart as soon as you are dressed properly. Hurry now, please, we need to make as much progress as we can before dark.”
“Now?” Mary said faintly, looking past Miss Wood to scan the street for Lord John. The diligence was empty, with only a few people still gathered around it. But where was the farmer’s wife with the basket of strawberries, and where was Lord John?
“What is it, Lady Mary?” asked the governess, concern in her voice. “Are you unwell? You look as if you’ve taken too much of the sun, out here without your hat. Your cheeks are pink.”
“I was expecting a—a friend, Miss Wood,” she said. Perhaps he’d had to follow the woman for the strawberries. Perhaps she wouldn’t sell them to him at all, and he’d gone elsewhere. He wouldn’t abandon her the first time she turned away, not after offering to take her clear to Paris. “A friend.”
“A friend, my lady?” Miss Wood frowned. “Forgive me, my lady, but what friend could you possibly have here in Calais?”
What friend, indeed? Mary shook her head, unwilling to believe the empty proof of her own eyes. Perhaps it was for the best that Lord John had disappeared like this. She could hardly have introduced him to Miss Wood, or worse, to her sister. This way she’d still had an adventure, only just a smaller one than he’d proposed. She would dutifully leave Calais now with the rest of her party, and disappear, and treat him the same as he’d treated her. Her reputation was spared a journey with him in a crowded diligence. There’d be no farewell, no regrets for what had never happened. Only the slight sting of disappointment, and she already knew how to cope with that.
Her smile was wistful, her feelings bittersweet. No more laughter, and no promised strawberries, sweet and juicy on the tongue. No more adventures today.
She glanced back to the end of the wall, where Monsieur Dumont had warned her about her painting. Now he, too, had vanished. She couldn’t have imagined all of it, could she?
“Come, Lady Mary,” said Miss Wood, leading her back into the inn. “Deborah will have your trunk packed by now, and Lady Diana should be ready, too.”
But as she began up the stairs with Miss Wood, Madame Gris hurried toward her, the beautiful ruffled bouquet of roses and pinks in her arms.
“My lady, a moment, please!” she called. “You forgot these in the parlor, my lady. The flowers the gentleman brought for you, my lady, and such pretty ones they are, too.”
Miss Wood looked sharply at Mary, her expression full of silent questions.
“I am sorry, Madame,” Mary said slowly, “but I’m afraid you’re mistaken. Those flowers weren’t for me.”
Madame Gris’s brows rose with surprise. “But my lady, I am sure that—”
“No, Madame,” Mary said. “The bouquet was not meant for me, and neither was the gentleman.”
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