Mostly due to Frits’s appetite and Adeline’s need for nourishment in the middle of the day, luncheon was always served. “Yes, I suppose we must.”
“We can use the roads,” Turley said as he watched the vehicle make its way slowly away from them and toward the town. “It’s longer, but the horses don’t have the energy they did earlier.”
This was ridiculous. He was obviously not happy about the coach, and if it was a danger of some sort, she had a right to know. “What about the carriage is bothering you?”
He pressed his lips together in a thin line. “The owner. I do not particularly like him.”
She made a come on motion with her hand. “And why is that?”
Turley started his horse back down the lane. “I can’t tell you exactly what it is as it is not my story to tell, but I do not trust the man.”
Well, that was all well and good, but she was still in the dark about the identity of the gentleman. Georgie almost rolled her eyes. “What about him do you not like? Is he a ravisher of young ladies? Does he have a gambling habit?” Turley smiled at that which just made Georgie more determined to ferret out the story. “Is he a fortune hunter?”
“As far as I know he is none of the things you have mentioned.” He stopped as if wrestling with his words. “Let us simply say that he did something a long time ago that hurt a friend of a friend, and a lady was involved. She was also harmed.”
“That is clear as mud.” Well, possibly a bit clearer. Still it did not tell her what she wished to know. “If he is in the neighborhood, is he someone to whom I should give the cut direct?”
“Not unless you wish to create talk.” His tone was as dry as the sand at Brighton.
If Georgie had not been riding she would have thrown up her hands. Why did gentlemen always think they needed to take care of ladies by not giving them information? Although, deep inside she knew there were several reasons they did so. “Very well. I shall not cut him. Not that I could as I do not know who he is. Unless, of course, I see his carriage again.”
Turley grinned again. “I really cannot tell you his name. Not that I think you would gossip, I do not. But unless he misbehaves in some way, which he has not for a very long time, I would not want to defame him.” He captured her eyes with his gaze. “Unless something changes, can you live with that?”
“I suppose I have no choice.” Until she had an opportunity to look for the crest. There were most likely not many that had a serpent on them.
By the time they returned to their starting point, Johnson was on his horse. “Ye ready to go back, are ye?”
Turley nodded. “I cannot miss luncheon.”
The groom smirked. “No, I don’t suppose ye can, and Miss Georgie don’t be needing to miss a meal.”
Miss Georgie? “Have you been speaking with my maid?”
“Ye’re coachman,” the groom answered unabashed.
She thought he had gone back to Town, not that she had inquired. “He is still here?”
“Yes, miss. Has quarters over the coach house. His orders were to stay here in case ye wanted to leave.”
“Oh.” That had been nice of her father or whoever it had been. “Thank you for telling me.”
“I take it that you didn’t know,” Turley said.
“I had not even thought about it.” Although, now that she had it made sense. The coachman would have gone back to Town and waited to be summoned. “And I have had no reason to visit the coach house. But now that I do know, I will not have to bother asking Adeline if she wishes to go to the market town with me. I can simply take my maid and go by myself.” That reminded her of something. “I suppose my footman remained as well.”
“Not that I know of, miss. I ain’t seen any footmen in strange livery.”
“That is too bad. If they left me the coach, they should have left me a footman. Now I shall still be required to request one from Adeline.” A smiled played at the corners of Turley’s lips. “What?”
“It just occurred to me that if you had both a coachman and a footman, you would be able to come and go as you please. I doubt that under the circumstances that would make Littleton or Adeline very comfortable.”
He was probably right about that. Both her friends had been taking their positions as de facto guardians seriously. “I shall have you know that I am not subject to piques of fits that would cause me to go rushing off without consulting them.”
He looked at her as if he could see right through her. “But what if they had disagreed with you?”
“I will have you know that I am very even tempered.” Most of the time. In general, it took a great deal to upset her. Although, Turley seemed successful at it.
“I do not doubt the truth of that, but at times anyone can be pushed beyond their limits.”
She glanced at him. He was much more perceptive than she had given him credit. “Very true. We all have our limits.”
Georgie wondered if she would discover what hers were or, perhaps more importantly, what Turley’s limits were.
Chapter Eleven
Marc Lytton glanced out the window of his coach and was surprised to see Miss Featherton mounted on a gray horse staring at him. She spoke to someone he was unable to see before his coachman had the carriage turned. He turned to his valet. “Where are we?”
“I shall inquire, my lord.” The servant stood, opened the roof-hatch, and spoke with the driver. “We turned onto the wrong road, my lord. Lord Bottomley’s estate is in the direction we are now heading.”
Marc bit back the scathing remarks that sprang to his tongue. “In other words, he has no idea.”
“That is what I gathered, my lord. The person from whom he received directions apparently mentioned so many times not to turn this way that turning down this lane stuck in the coachman’s head.” His valet appeared to consider that for a moment. “I can ask again, my lord.”
“No. We’ll soon be at our destination. I would like you to make inquiries after we arrive.”
“As you wish.” The servant reclaimed his seat on the backward-facing bench.
His coachman’s family had served his family for multiple generations. Unfortunately, the man was good-natured and loyal, but not very quick-witted.
A few minutes later, Marc noticed that the road broadened and soon they passed a gate. His thoughts turned back to Miss Featherton. Then it occurred to him that Turner had said she was visiting Lady Littleton. As the lane was clearly not the main road to Littleton’s estate, it had to be a back entrance. Marc wondered if she often rode in that area. If so, it might behoove him to make a point of discovering if she had a schedule. He could easily borrow a hack from Bottomley and pretend to run into her. Not only that, but she would be at the house party. That was, after all, the main reason Marc had left Town for the week.
His coach drew up in front of a substantial red-brick manor house that had been added onto by virtue of a one-story addition to one side of the house. The addition was well built with many long windows, but it gave the rest of the structure a lopsided appearance.
Large, wooden double doors opened and several footmen clamored down the steps. Standing in front of the door was a tall silver-haired man dressed in a black suit. Obviously, the butler. By the time the coach door was opened and the steps let down, the butler was at the carriage.