Chapter 15

W hat have you learned? Where is Monsieur Durand?” Anna asked the moment James returned to the inn and rejoined them. Mary had just finished packing Anna’s bags, and Sparks had brought his and James’s bags into the room. They were all together.

James sank into a chair in the corner of her room, and Anna’s heart sank with him.

She went to his side and crouched down to be face-to-face with him. “What is it? What has happened? Was Monsieur Durand able to help us?”

“He has done what he could for us, yes,” James replied.

It was a rather enigmatic statement, Anna thought.

“What does that mean?” Sparks asked as he took the bag Mary had just packed and placed it with the others.

James heaved a sigh.

“What is it, James?” she asked. “What are you not telling us?”

“My dearest Anna,” he said softly, which worried her at the same time it filled her heart. He’d never spoken so affectionately to her before, and yet his tone was grave. “I have done all in my power to be of service to you and—” He stopped speaking and heaved another sigh. “And yet I am a mere man who has failed, I fear.”

Mary gasped loudly behind Anna, and Anna heard Sparks move toward Mary and shush her.

Anna, however, kept her eyes on James. “What do you mean, failed?” she asked. “We have no coach? We have no conveyance, then?”

He looked up, and their gazes locked. James looked more tired and defeated than she’d seen him during their entire acquaintance, however brief—although it felt as though she’d known him for ages now. Instead of the arrogant lawyer she’d met on the Duke of Aylesham’s yacht, here was the James she’d come to know: an earnest, caring, and vigilant gentleman with new wrinkles at his eyes, undoubtedly caused by worry over the role he’d assumed in escorting her on her determined quest.

“A supply wagon,” he said softly.

“A what?” she asked, wondering what he meant.

“We have a supply wagon. That is the best we can do.”

Anna heard Mary gasp again, and Sparks said, “Now, now,” or something like that, she supposed—she was still trying to grasp exactly what James had said and if she’d even heard him correctly.

“A supply wagon?” she repeated, just to be certain.

“The answer to our prayers is a supply wagon left behind by Napoleon’s troops.”

“Left behind?” Anna asked.

“Yes, owing to its condition at the time. It has been adequately repaired.”

“But it’s a wagon!” Mary exclaimed.

James shrugged, making him look rather French for a moment, Anna thought abstractedly.

“The war has been difficult for the people of Brive, and we were blessed to have encountered Monsieur Durand,” James said. “The local blacksmith, Monsieur Villard, will escort us on our journey, if you are willing to agree to the plans. It is their hope that he can return from Toulouse with a better wagon and, more especially, horses.”

James looked at her in inquiry, waiting for her to respond.

“A wagon,” she repeated.

“Yes,” he replied.

“A wagon it is, then,” Anna said, resolving to be positive in this unexpected situation. “What must we do to make this wagon as agreeable as possible? I confess I’ve never ridden in a wagon before—except for a time or two when I was a girl and we held fetes at Clifton Hall ...” She paused as a wave of melancholy washed over her. “During happier times.”

“Oh, my dear Anna,” James said softly.

Anna shook her melancholy away. “But you have not failed us, James,” she said, laying her hand atop his and hoping her voice sounded more resolute than she actually felt. “It was you and your diligence that brought us Monsieur Durand, was it not? And we are seeing more and more that the war has been hard on so many. Not just on me and my family.”

“I’ll leave Mary here wi’ ye, me lady, if that pleases ye, and Mr. Jennings and meself will set about to see what we can do to make this ... wagon ... a bit more comfortable for ye ladies—beggin’ yer pardon, me lady, for referring to Mary as a lady when ye’re a real one ...” His voice trailed off.

“I understood your meaning, Sparks,” Anna said with a smile, relinquishing James’s hand and rising to her feet.

“Come, Sparks,” James said. He inhaled deeply, then rose to his feet. “We have work to do before we can be on our way. Let’s go find Durand and Villard, shall we?”

“Oh, me lady!” Mary exclaimed when they were gone. “I don’t know how I’m going to last riding in a wagon. Between the tossing and bouncing and me weak stomach and me bruised bones ...”

Anna’s heart broke. “Mary, I’m so sorry I have put you and Sparks through all this. I didn’t know what else to do, but I truly had no idea of the suffering it would bring to us.”

And then, despite herself, she collapsed into the chair in which James had just been sitting and broke into tears.

By the time James and Sparks arrived back at the blacksmith’s shop, the two French men had moved the wagon outside, loaded it with a few bales of hay in order to create seating of a sort, and covered the bales as best they could with old quilts. James was glad to see the quilts, as hay was itchy; he’d learned that from antics he and his brothers had gotten into as children.

The poor horses Monsieur Durand had provided were old, undoubtedly the reason the French troops had left them behind. And while the wagon had originally been sturdily constructed for long-distance travel, it had not been built for the comfort of passengers, since there’d been no expectation that there would ever be any passengers.

If they had thought they’d felt every bump and jostle in the carriages, they were in for a rude awakening when they left Brive. When they stopped for luncheon and to rest the old horses on the first day, after listening to Anna and Mary stifle moans, James and Sparks set about pulling the bales apart and rearranging the hay to make softer seating than what had been formed using the firm bales.

They were all grateful to finally reach their destination of Souillac on their first day riding in the wagon. James, for one, had discovered more bruises on his body than he’d thought possible, and his back was sore from being tossed from side to side. He hated to think what it meant Anna and Mary had endured.

The second day was much like the first, adding more bruises to James’s personal collection. Additionally, it had broken his heart to watch Anna’s disappointed reaction to every soldier who passed them on the road. During one of their rest stops, he assisted Anna from the wagon, her hand gripping the crook of his arm, and its presence there was like a fire in a hearth—warm and delicious despite his bruised body but dangerous if he allowed himself to get too close. He’d resisted the temptation to pull her into his arms and bury his face in her neck, but only just. In truth, all he wished to do was take her into his arms, declare his undying passion for her, and kiss her until she swooned.

On the third day, even though the inn they had stayed at that night had been welcoming, and the supper and breakfast served had been delicious and filling, a gloom settled over James as the day and their travel in the wagon progressed. Clouds had blown in overhead, gray and ominous.

A day of rain threatened them.

When raindrops started to fall, Anna retrieved a small umbrella from her bag. It worked well enough for her and Mary at first until the winds began to blow and the rain poured down on them in sheets. Sparks groaned and pulled his jacket over his head.

There was no respite to be had. Visibility was poor due to low clouds, and the roads turned to pools of mud, yet Villard kept the wagon going, albeit at a much slower speed.

“I suppose we should be glad that it’s a rain shower in slightly warmer climes than the one we experienced a few days back,” Anna said right after her umbrella blew inside out and was of no further use. “Although I had hoped my next warm bath would occur once we reached our last stop for the evening, not while we were still en route.”

James couldn’t help himself. He laughed outright. And then Sparks laughed, and even Mary chuckled a bit.

“You see up there? That cloud there?” James said to Anna after he stopped laughing, pointing to the cloud right above them.

“Yes, what about it?” Anna said, peering up through the rain and shielding her eyes with her hand.

“I believe it has a silver lining, if you look very carefully.”

Anna turned to him then and slapped his arm playfully. “Oh, James!” she exclaimed. And then she laughed. This wonderful, valiant lady, her hair sticking to her cheeks, her bonnet sagging, her black traveling clothes sodden and covered with straw and mud, laughed . James had thought her beautiful in adverse conditions before, but at that moment—

“I love you,” he said.

Anna gasped.

Blast .

James had always considered himself to be of a disciplined nature. He’d prided himself on his intellect: his skills with languages, his understanding of law, foreign and domestic, and a strict adherence to his life goals. He was a diplomat—he prided himself on choosing his words wisely. What had he done?

Since this woman had come into his life, it was as though his entire being had lost its senses. But the challenge of balancing one’s affections with one’s duties was blasted difficult.

He had greatly overstepped the mark with his words.

Anna wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard James correctly. She’d been laughing, surprisingly, and the rain and wind had been rushing about, and the squeak of the wagon wheels and the thudding sounds of the horses’ hooves had made for a bit of a ruckus. She was soaked to the skin, and despite her witty remark about warm baths, she was chilled, and her teeth were chattering.

It was bad enough that she wasn’t certain she’d heard a declaration of love from James—although she dearly prayed it had been the case—but then his expression had turned serious and then pained, and then he’d looked away, all in a matter of a few moments.

What had she done? What had her expression suggested to have his countenance change so dramatically so rapidly?

“James—” she began.

Monsieur Villard shouted something in French right then, and Anna, Sparks, Mary, and James all turned as one to look in the direction Villard was pointing. The town where they were staying for the night—James had said it was called Montauban—loomed before them.

James then preoccupied himself with brushing off his jacket sleeves and shouting questions in French to Villard, to which the blacksmith nodded and yelled replies. The sun was sinking in the west, Anna was chilled, and her mood had chilled along with the rest of her person after James’s confusing sequence.

She heaved a sigh of relief when the wagon finally pulled off the main street into the yard of the inn and came to a stop. She stood, attempting to maintain her balance, which had been something of an issue the past two days when stepping on hay and uneven wagon slats, and was even more difficult now that her wet traveling gown weighed substantially more and clung to her legs. James reached out to assist her, but she ignored him.

Although she had initially doubted what she’d heard, now that she’d had a minute to reflect, she was certain she’d heard him say he loved her. And then for him to become completely aloof immediately afterward stung. She simply couldn’t bear his touch right now. It would be too painful, too confusing.

She was a fool. And right now, she was a wet, cold, dirty, exhausted, heartbroken fool who had subjected others to her foolishness and, hence, to being as wet, cold, dirty, and exhausted as she was.

Her foot slipped, and her arms flailed like windmills at her sides as she tried to regain her balance unsuccessfully and dropped—

Straight into James’s arms.

“Are you all right?” he asked, his lips right next to her ear, his arms securely around her waist.

“Yes.” It wasn’t entirely a lie. She was all right, as she’d avoided falling and injuring herself, but she wasn’t all right in spirit. And while James’s arms felt secure, and she was grateful he’d caught her before she’d fallen and injured herself and her pride, the entire debacle was frustrating.

Once she had her feet firmly under her again, she turned her head to politely smile at him and say thank you. But his arms were still around her, steadying her, and by turning her head, their faces were barely an inch apart.

Their eyes caught, and then his gaze dropped to her lips.

How dare he!

Her lips began to quiver, which only made her angrier and even more despondent, if that were possible. She tore herself from his arms without saying a word and tromped off toward the inn, without looking at anyone or anything. But then when she reached the door, she realized that she couldn’t ask any of the servants at the inn for help because she didn’t speak French . She was dependent upon James, or perhaps Villard, though he had mostly kept to himself, and the idea that she was so dependent on others at this particular moment was the final straw.

She stopped right where she was and buried her face in her hands.

“Come, me lady.” Mary’s sweet voice sounded like heaven. Her familiar arms wrapped around Anna’s shoulders this time rather than James’s arms doing the deed. “I’m certain there’s a nice room to be had inside, and Mr. Jennings and Sparks is seein’ to it that we all get nice, warm baths and a hearty meal, and the clouds look to be not quite so threatening as they was all afternoon, so that’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Anna nodded but didn’t—couldn’t—speak and allowed Mary to guide her into the inn, where aromas from the kitchen tried their best to entice Anna out of her gloom—unsuccessfully.

James was relieved that Mary had comforted Anna after she had refused his help. He busied himself with arranging for their rooms, and he and Sparks also needed to have the soaked blankets that covered the hay hung somewhere so they could dry before the four of them continued on their way tomorrow morning.

He went directly to the innkeeper, all the while berating himself. He was wholly embarrassed that blurting out the word love was keeping him from speaking to Anna. Yet it was. She’d withdrawn into herself and away from him. Was it his fault? Had his declaration shocked her?

And then James had a dreadful thought: What if she felt some sort of obligation to him? Were he to ask her to marry him, might she agree only because of his service to her these past few weeks?

That would be utterly unbearable.

After arranging for rooms, he walked over to Anna and said only, “Your rooms are on the second floor. I hope they’ll be suitable.” Heady stuff, that , he thought morosely as he left to find the stablemaster and arrange for the care of their horses. But gratefully, he found Villard already seeing to the task.

James went to his room and soaked in a warm bath, then sorted through his clothes to find something that was the least dirty before setting out to ask the innkeeper’s wife if he could have a few of his things laundered. When she agreed, he asked—as an afterthought—if she would include a few items from his fellow travelers. “I’m sure Lady Anna, in particular, will appreciate freshly laundered clothing,” he explained in French.

The innkeeper’s wife was willing to oblige, especially when she realized she had a member of British nobility staying at the inn, and even more so after James offered her a rather generous sum of money. With that done, he set off to find one of the others to pass the word along.

Sparks and Villard had been assigned the small room off James’s own, where James knew Sparks was cleaning up, so he knocked on the door and told Sparks he could take some clothes to be laundered. Next, he left to inform Anna and Mary.

He went to their room and rapped softly on the door. Mary answered. It was obvious she hadn’t had a chance to clean up yet.

“The innkeeper’s wife has offered to launder a few of our clothing items,” he said in a low voice so as not to disturb Anna. “If you wish to take some of your and Lady Anna’s things down to her, she’s expecting them.”

“Thank you, sir,” Mary said with a small curtsy. “I shall inform her.”

He nodded politely, and she shut the door.

Time to arrange for supper , he thought. Then his work would be done for the night.

He wasn’t the slightest bit surprised when Sparks joined him downstairs after a while and told him the women had decided to take their supper in their room. Of course they had.

It was probably just as well, he thought as he and Sparks ate their supper in the dining hall, which was fairly busy, mostly with men who appeared to be soldiers. They’d passed such men along their travels, and they had experienced more frequent encounters the closer they’d gotten to Toulouse.

Villard chose to dine with the inn’s staff despite James’s invitation, saying he might be able to learn something about Lady Anna’s brother from the locals, which made sense, and which James appreciated. In fact, James appreciated that Sparks, Mary, Villard, and others had been agreeable and helpful and, blast it all, good company, and he especially appreciated them after so many weeks of bowing and scraping to the elite of the Continent.

James swallowed the last of his ale. “I’m heading up to the rooms,” he said as he stood from their table. “You?”

“Not quite, guv,” Sparks said.

“Very well,” James said. “Good night.”

He made his way to his room, fatigue finally hitting him, ready for the void that accompanied sleep.