He tossed the boy a farthing and was soon riding alongside a much wider river, which he eventually crossed, whereupon he discovered he’d arrived in Preston. As a passenger in Whiteside’s carriage the previous day, he hadn’t paid attention to the road. Thus, he had no notion how to locate the inn where he hoped to find Frederick, nor the wheelwright’s workshop.
A little further on, he encountered a wide thoroughfare. Glancing to the left, he noticed a sign declaring the corner shop to be the premises of Carr and Sons.
The tailor he’d met at the inn seemed friendly and anxious to please. He would be a good source of information as to which direction to take, and might even know how to tie a decent cravat.
*
Astride Gabriel’s horse,Susan cast a dubious eye on the contraption into which Orion had eventually allowed himself to be led. It had taken a good deal of coaxing on Oscar’s part to convince the stallion. The retired jockey had wisely kept away from Orion’s deadly back legs. The same couldn’t be said for Cavendish who was lucky the stallion hadn’t unmanned him. He’d put on a brave face, for Susan’s benefit no doubt, but she’d wager he’d be sporting a livid bruise before the morrow dawned.
“Don’t worry,” Gabriel said from his perch on the driver’s seat of the van. “I saw similar vehicles during the Napoleonic wars. Your horse will be safe.”
Apparently satisfied his own horse was securely harnessed to the van’s traces, Bradley climbed up to join Gabriel. “Folks will think we’re gypsies,” he said with a chuckle.
Susan considered her own appearance. No matter how she tried to arrange it, her gown refused to cover her ankles. It reminded her of…good grief!
However, there was no side saddle available and she couldn’t imagine riding for four hours seated in one. She preferred to ride astride, though her clothing on this occasion was totally unsuitable.
Gypsies indeed!
Impatient to be off, she waved to Oscar and set her horse in motion.
“We’ll have to take it more slowly,” Gabriel shouted.
She slowed her pace. At this rate it would be dark before they reached Thicketford Manor.
As the miles crawled by, her mind wandered. She’d embarked on this horse racing odyssey as a way to get under Griffith Halliwell’s skin, though she wasn’t certain exactly how that plan was supposed to unfold. Now, she’d fallen madly in love with a thoroughbred stallion and couldn’t get the rogue of an earl out of her mind. It was a most distressing state of affairs for a woman who prided herself on her clear thinking.
The solution to her dilemma came so suddenly, she scolded herself for not thinking of it before. If she set her cap at Halliwell, he’d run as far and as fast as he could. He’d hie back to London and his fancy women. Fascination would turn to disgust and she’d have no trouble cleansing him from her thoughts.
*
Awakened long beforedawn by the activity in the inn’s stables, Arthur dogged his prey’s movements again, intrigued when Susan and the earl appeared to be negotiating for a horse with a chap who accompanied them to a large stables near the racetrack.
He knew fortune was smiling on him when he watched his quarry depart with the stallion loaded into a strange-looking horse-drawn vehicle, the earl taking the reins. Susan rode away astride, of course. For as long as he’d known her, the woman hadn’t comported herself as befitted a member of the nobility.
It appeared they were headed home to Thicketford Manor, though Arthur doubted the vehicle would make it all that way.
Going north into Lancashire was risky, but this was too good an opportunity to miss. He’d wager the earl intended to use the horse for breeding. Arthur salivated, envisioning the outrageous stud fees he could charge if the horse belonged to him. Withins Hall was the perfect place for a stud farm. Of course, his father would never allow it. However, Bertrand Coleman was elderly. He wouldn’t live forever. And accidents could happen.
Arthur wondered if Tillie was still in the area. She’d proven to be a pathetically useless accomplice in his last endeavor. Thanks to her, he’d ended up in Jamaica. However, the twit did know how to please a man in bed, and a good romp was definitely long overdue. Of course, he’d have to make her pay for letting him down. His cock saluted the prospect of the many ways he might exact punishment.
Whistling jauntily, he retreated to thePied Bull, pondering how he was going to get to Preston.
*
All in all,Griff considered the day a waste of time. The visit to Mr. Carr’s establishment had proven to be the one bright spot. Not only had he come away with a perfectly tied new cravat, Carr had measured him for a number of frock coats, breeches and undergarments which were to be delivered to Clifton Heights within a fortnight. It meant delaying his return to London, but installing a new estate manager would also take some time. Carr had confirmed his thoughts about the Earl of Farnworth’s stalwart character. “Indeed, his whole family is to be admired,” the tailor insisted.
Griff couldn’t help himself. “Even Lady Susan? I hear…”
“Unconventional, for sure,” Carr interrupted, “but she’s a true Lancashire lass—honest, loyal and true.”
A treasured memory of Griff’s mother sprang to mind. Originally from Wales, she’d readily adapted to Lancashire. Folks had said the same thing about her, although no one could ever accuse the conventional Alice Halliwell of being a bluestocking.
He’d admired his mother’s perceptive nature, and wondered now if there were intellectual pursuits she’d forsaken in order to be the model wife of an earl. Much as Griff loved his jovial father, he couldn’t imagine him encouraging his wife’s interest in anything other than playing the role of a dutiful countess—an extension of himself, if you will. The realization he’d never really known if his mother was truly happy tightened Griff’s throat.
When he finally found the wheelwright’s workshop, he was disappointed to learn the work on his carriage wasn’t finished. However, the exterior looked much cleaner. “You’ve done a good job,” he told the wheelwright.
“Not I,” the fellow replied. “The missus. Did the inside too. Smelled like a chicken coop.”