Ambrose was about to follow the delectable Miss Parker into the coach, when the small squat coachman bounded up to them.
“There’s going to be a delay,” he said, rolling his eyes. “One of the horses has gone lame, and we must replace her. It will be another hour or more until we can get going again. You may as well go back into the inn to wait.”
There was a collective groan from the carriage. Ambrose sighed heavily, shaking his head. Another delay. At this rate, it was going to be Christmas by the time he got back to Bradford.
He looked at Miss Parker, who was climbing out of the carriage again, along with the others. His interest in her was growing by the minute. Perhaps he could indulge it a bit more during this idle time. As well as stare at her beautiful face for as long as he could. He was enjoying that very much.
He hung back while the others made their way into the inn, before tapping her on the shoulder. She turned around, a quizzical look in her large grey eyes.
“I was thinking you might like to take a walk while we wait,” he said, smiling at her. “A chance to really stretch our legs before we have to get back into the carriage for the afternoon.”
She looked shocked and uncertain. Quickly, she looked at the other passengers who were disappearing inside the inn. She turned back to him.
“You mean just the two of us?” she said in a faint voice. “Without anyone else?”
“Why not?” he challenged, looking her straight in the eye. “It is something different. And I am tired of sitting down. I confess it drives me a little crazy.”
She laughed. “I do not like it much either.” She hesitated. “Very well, Mr Hartfield. I will go for a walk with you.”
He smiled, feeling inordinately pleased. They headed off down the road before turning down a narrow path through a green field dusted with snow. There were tiny snowflakes swirling in the air around them. He frowned as he saw her shiver. It wasn’t surprising. Itwascold out here, and her coat was threadbare.
“Take this,” he said, taking off his coat and placing it around her shoulders. “You need it more than I do, Miss Parker.”
Her cheeks turned pink. He watched the blush rise upon her face like a sunrise over the hills. She blushed a lot, but then, her skin was so fair—almost translucent.
“I really couldn’t,” she said in a faint voice. “You will freeze.”
He gave a short laugh. “I am made of sterner stuff than that. I didn’t have a proper coat for years when I was growing up. It’s a luxury now and one that I can do without when needed.” He paused, staring at her intently. “I would much rather you be comfortable.”
“Thank you,” she said, her blush deepening. “That is very kind of you.”
They kept walking in silence. They were surrounded by rolling hills in every direction. They skirted a cobblestone fence for half a mile before she stopped suddenly, turning to him. Her grey eyes were filled with excitement.
“Look!” she cried, pointing into the distance. “A church. And I think there is a wedding party coming out of it. If we walk quickly, we may be able to see it before they leave.”
Ambrose stared where she indicated. There was indeed a small church perched on the top of a hill, its steeple jutting towards the sky. The bell was chiming as he watched people walking through the front door and towards waiting carts.
A wedding party. He smiled wryly. It was just like a woman to be interested in such things. And really, he didn’t mind the walk there. It meant that Miss Parker was longer in his company, which was something that he was enjoying very much.
“Let us go there then,” he said.
She beamed at him before striding over the hill. He grinned, trying to keep up with her. By the time they were close enough to see the wedding party, they were both a little out of breath. They stopped near a rock, leaning against it to watch.
He saw the bride and groom laughing and kissing well-wishers. The lady was a plump woman in a patterned muslin gown with a matching bonnet, clutching a posy of violets and forget-me-nots. The groom was a giant of a man with a long red beard, who looked a little overwhelmed.
Women dressed in their Sunday best threw grains of rice into the air, scattering over the happy couple. The couple climbed into a cart decorated with ribbons. It wasn’t long before they were away. The rest of the party followed, climbing into their carts and hurtling back down the hill. Within minutes, the church was deserted.
Miss Parker sighed. “That was beautiful,” she said in a soft voice. “They looked so happy.”
Ambrose grinned. “I suppose it is a good day for them,” he said in a slightly dismissive tone. “A day off, at least. And that is something to be celebrated for working folk.”
She turned to him, gazing at him steadily. He noticed that her nose was ever so slightly snubbed and that her eyelashes were tipped with gold.
“That is not a very romantic declaration, Mr Hartfield,” she said. “Do you not believe in matrimony for the sake of love, then?”
Her grey eyes were huge in her beautiful face, which had turned solemn. She really wanted to know the answer to her question.
“I believe it is not necessary for a happy marriage,” he said cautiously. “In fact, I have seen so-called love matches degenerate quickly. Romantic love does not mean that two people are compatible to live together for life. It is probably preferable to choose a mate based on practical reasons, when all is said and done.”