Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Anthony weighed his options carefully, only half listening to what James was saying about their broken carriage. He had hoped to return to England in total anonymity, hence the unmarked travelling coach he had hired out of London. Now that he had been seen—by his own dratted staff no less—there really was no turning back.

Especially not with the mystery still staring him in the face. He recognized Miss Barclay well enough. She had been his mother's favourite attendant for the last seven years. But the woman standing beside her didn't look like any companion Anthony had ever seen, even on the Continent, where rules about birth and appearance were laxer than in England.

Between her stunned expression and the quality of the carriage— his carriage—in which she had been travelling, he had to imagine she had been invited to Norwich by his mother.

That begged the question: Why the deuce had his mother chosen the moment of his return to entertain guests at Moorhaven?

"Your Grace?" Anthony peered down at the footman, who was looking up at him over his shoulder. James pointed at the faulty wheel. "Shall I walk to Thetford to find a mechanic, as Miss Barclay suggested?"

Exhaling hard, Anthony squinted towards the horizon. "I'm not certain what other options we have. There's nothing our own driver can do about the break, and he has to be in Norwich by seven o'clock besides."

He grunted, dropping into a crouch beside James. Reaching a hand beneath the carriage bed, he felt around for the linchpin behind the wheel. He gave it a tug, and it seemed secure.

"The wheel's not at risk of falling off—yet. Something must have happened to the axle, but I can't feel what it is," Anthony said.

He pulled his hand away, laying his arms over his knees and dropping his head in thought. The staff at Moorhaven Manor were diligent in their work. They wouldn't have forgotten to maintain the vehicles while Anthony was away. If the carriage had been rarely used, it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility that something had been missed in their checks.

Which means Mother has scarcely left the house in the two months since Father passed, Anthony thought, stretching back into a stand, despite her assurances that she was fine.

Guilty feelings writhed inside him. His father's death had been quick and painless, according to the letters Anthony had received. Anthony couldn't have predicted his father's fall from that blasted horse. Yet, it didn't make him feel any less reprehensible for having been gallivanting around the Continent when it had happened.

His mother had been left all alone in her grief, and Anthony ... Well, he had barely had time to contemplate his own feelings on the matter. He had other matters to deal with now, like coming fully into the title of Duke of Westden well before it was his time.

James rose beside him, and Anthony clapped him on the shoulder, returning his thoughts to the problem before him. Plym and his own driver returned from their inspections, and he turned to them to propose a solution.

"I suggest you start walking," Anthony said. "Alternatively, you could drive the thing slowly as far as it will go. And James, you could walk beside it. There is a mechanic in Thetford. He oversaw some of the races Father would host ... So long as there are no passengers in the box, the worst you'll endure are a few spooked horses until you reach him if anything should happen. Which it will not."

"A fine idea, Your Grace," Plym replied. He hadn't changed at all since Anthony had last seen him, with his thinning dark hair and potbelly. "What do you suggest we do with ..."

He let the question trail off, nodding towards Miss Barclay and the anomaly beside her. Anthony turned to find them standing in the same spot, except now, they weren't alone.

"It's just like Patrick to make things twice as complicated as they need to be," he muttered, shaking his head. His travelling companion must have exited their coach while Anthony had been occupied with the wheel. He was now talking the ears off the stranded women. "Allow me to speak with them while you prepare for the drive to Thetford."

With a nod, Anthony stepped away, leaving the rest of them to get to work. Patrick's laugh was the first thing he heard as he circled the carriage. Miss Barclay's eyes widened, and she quickly dropped into a curtsy. When the stranger failed to do the same, Miss Barclay pressed down on her shoulder, forcing her to bow. His mouth twitched with a smile despite the dire circumstances they found themselves in.

"Your Grace, how relieved I am to see you so well after these long years." Miss Barclay was as deferential as ever. She released the woman, and they both straightened. "Allow me to introduce Miss Marianne Buller. She has been invited to Moorhaven Manor at the behest of Her Grace. We were completing the journey from London when ..."

All eyes turned to the carriage.