Pulling on the beast’s reins, he neared the impressive wrought iron gates of the Farnworth estate and decided to test his luck. It was doubtful the old gatekeeper would recognize him. Indeed, he couldn’t recall ever meeting the fellow face-to-face, and a baron’s son wouldn’t sport a cloth cap and be dressed in worn homespun.
Pulling down the neb to further hide his face, he greeted the old gent. “By ’eck, who lives ’ere in this grand place?” he asked, quite pleased with his imitation of the local dialect as he gestured expansively to the gates.
The gatekeeper narrowed his eyes at the weary mule. “Yon nag’s on ’is last legs.”
Arthur seethed. He could have told the fool that, but he held on to his temper. “Must be some rich toff lives ’ere.”
“This ’ere’s the estate of the Earl of Farnworth and no place for one such as thee to loiter. Bugger off.”
Tempted to punch the old codger in the ribs, Arthur was distracted when a carriage approached from within the estate. He stepped aside as the gatekeeper shuffled to open the gates.
He refused to turn away when Susan Crompton looked down her aristocratic nose through the window of the carriage. He almost wished she’d recognize him and spew her outrage, but she’d apparently looked right through him. It was of limited satisfaction when she turned to speak to the gentleman traveling with her. He didn’t recognize the other female passenger.
The vehicle had seen better days. The coat of arms on the side needed repainting. The owner must be down on his uppers. Not surprising really; what wealthy gent would marry Susan Crompton? He assumed the chap was her husband since they sat side by side. If not, the older woman was doing a poor job of chaperoning.
“Yon mon’s the earl, then?” he asked the gatekeeper, though he knew the gent wasn’t Farnworth.
“Not that it’s any of thy business, but that was Lady Susan Crompton, accompanied by the Earl of Pendlebury, and Mrs. Waterman, mother of the Earl of Farnworth,” he replied, his chest thrust out as if announcing attendees at a ball. “Now, be off with thee.”
“Keep yer ’air on,” he replied. “I’m going. Better things to do than waste time with thee. One last thing. Canst ye tell me if Tillie still works ’ere?”
The old man spat into the dust. “Tillie! Nah! Probably in the poorhouse by this. What would thee want with the likes of ’er?”
“Just an old acquaintance,” he replied before sauntering off.
*
Inside the carriage,Susan glared at Rebecca. Why hadn’t the woman taken the seat beside her instead of obliging Halliwell to do so? Despite the heat pouring off the man’s body, she shivered, her unease deepening when he took hold of her hand. “Don’t worry,” he purred. “You’re safe with me.”
Looking into teasing green eyes, she doubted that was true, but she must remember to be pleasant. “I’m not worried,” she lied, hesitant to tell him the real reason for her disquiet. “I feel like someone just walked over my grave.”
That remark finally tore Rebecca’s attention away from the passing scenery.
She should have rebuffed Halliwell when he leaned closer and put an arm around her shoulders, but his warmth was comforting and Rebecca had returned her gaze to the seemingly fascinating countryside.
“Like you’ve seen a ghost?” he said, sounding genuinely concerned.
“More like a premonition something bad is going to happen,” she murmured, feeling rather ridiculous. She believed in facts, not superstitious nonsense. “Silly, really.”
“Not at all,” he replied, withdrawing his arm. “I once had a similar premonition.”
The wistful sincerity in his voice made her curious. “And did it come true?”
He averted his eyes to look out the window. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “My parents were killed in a carriage accident.”
Susan’s heart broke for him. He might be a rogue and a reprobate, but to lose one’s parents so tragically… “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Were you close?”
He remained silent for a long while, his attention seemingly still on the scenery, obviously not wanting her to see his inner turmoil. His silence, however, was answer enough.
Rebecca jumped into the conversation. “I don’t know if you’d call it a premonition, but I knew in my heart that my two eldest boys had died at Trafalgar, even before we received official word.”
“I’m so sorry, dear lady,” Halliwell replied with sincerity. “It’s difficult to lose loved ones.”
“I miss my parents and my brother too,” Susan said softly. “Although my father and I didn’t get along.”
“Let me guess,” Halliwell quipped, the flippant arrogance back in his tone. “He thought a woman’s place was in a man’s bed, not in a library.”
Blushing fiercely, Rebecca leaned her head against the side of the carriage and closed her eyes. It wasn’t long before she was snoring softly.