Laura traveled toSomerset Hall just one week after her wedding, and Christiana took a carriage to Grancott so she could meet her friend off the stagecoach. Both Hugh and Laura had drawn the line at sending a coach all the way to London to pick her up, and so Christiana waited anxiously at Grancott’s only inn, the Black Horse, ignoring the curious stares that came her way. A footman in livery attended her, and she reflected once again how much her life had changed over the course of just a few months.
Finally, the stagecoach pulled into the yard with a clatter, the horses tired and the heavy vehicle sagging somewhat under the weight of its passengers. Christiana lingered in the inn’s doorway as several people disembarked: a stout matron with a chicken, a man in a rather ill-fitting greatcoat carrying a briefcase, and a harassed mother with two children between the ages of five and seven.
And finally, Laura.
She looked just the same as Christiana remembered her, wearing one of her old gowns, rumpled and travel stained. Upon seeing Christiana, her face split into a grin.
“Chris! You came!”
Ignoring the stares from everyone around them, Christiana hurried forward, her arms outstretched. The two women embraced in the courtyard.
“Of course I came,” Christiana said. “Otherwise, it’s a three-mile walk to the estate. Which, of course, can be achieved quite easily, but not after a long journey. How was it?”
Laura pulled a face. “The less said about the journey, the better. At least it’s over. No wonder Ewan begged me not to go via stagecoach.” Her pretty, blue eyes softened as she spoke about her new husband. “We have a little put by, and he urged me to spend it hiring a private coach. But heavens above, Chris, you would notbelievehow truly expensive everything is.”
“I will give you something for the journey home,” Christiana assured her friend, tucking Laura’s arm in hers. “Hugh is exceedingly generous with his pin money; I don’t spend half of it.”
“Hugh, eh?” Laura grinned. “I see the Beast of Somerset has won you over.”
“Don’t speak about him like that.” Christiana led Laura inside, opting for a private parlor. That, at least, would mean they could converse in private. “He is a very kind, considerate man.”
“Heavens above.” Laura stared at her on the stairs. “Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with him.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. One can admire a man without being in love with him.” Although, Christiana reflected, she knew nothing for certain. Perhaps shedidlove him and merely hadn’t realized. How would she know, anyway? “In here.”
Laura took in the parlor in a single glance and settled herself in the window seat, staring out across the small village. “Well? Tell me everything.”
“Not so fast. You first. How was the wedding?”
Laura’s face went soft, her eyes luminous, and for the first time, Christiana felt as though she could understand her decision. Perhaps not approve—a groom was a groom, after all—but love was love.
And Laura loved her groom. Very much, judging by the soft, girlish flush on her cheeks.
“It was lovely,” she said. “Not in the way that your wedding was lovely, with your expensive gown and a husband in very fine clothes and a mask to whisk you away to live at your beautiful estate, but wonderful nonetheless. Ewan took me to a small church where he lives and married me there with just two witnesses. Not my father, of course.”
“Was he very angry?”
“Furious,” Laura said cheerfully. “He informed me that he had not invested in my future so I could throw it away, and I informed him that if after four years of the London marriage mart, I had been unable to find a husband I wanted, perhaps I ought to try more unconventional means.” She shrugged. “Ewan thinks he’ll come around eventually, but I don’t know. When it comes down to it, I don’t much care, either. All he ever cared about was what connections I could make for him. If he could have forced me into the arms of an elderly gentleman with gout, I have no doubt he would have done.”
Christiana sat with a sigh. “Yes. I quite know the feeling.”
“We will live modestly from now on,” Laura continued. “I have kept my gowns, but they will fall sadly out of fashion all too soon, and I will have to make up new ones. No matter—I think I will become quite the seamstress. And I shall have to learn to cook.Thathas been a trial for us both, I assure you, but I am learning.” She held up her hands, where two blistered burns stood out on her fingers, and wiggled them ruefully. “No one tells you how heavy everything is in a kitchen, and howimportant it is to protect one’s fingers with a towel. But, as I say, I’m learning. And Ewan is very patient with me.”
“Are you happy?” Christiana asked, an odd ache in her stomach at the news. An image popped into her head: Laura, struggling in a modest kitchen, struggling to make tea, and her groom husband encouraging her like he might a wild horse, in soft, low tones. Even in that image, Laura’s happiness shone through.
That was what love did, Christiana reflected. It made even a trial a joy if done for the one you loved.
“I am happy,” Laura said, confirming what Christiana already knew. “And thankful not to have lost your friendship. I know I will have lost all others.” She shook her head, dismissing the thought. “No doubt the scandal has made its rounds by now. Everyone will be gossiping about how they knew my fall from grace was inevitable. After all, I had the audacity to have opinions.”
Christiana rolled her eyes. “Heaven forbid.”
“Precisely. According to all the dowagers of theton, no gentleman wishes to have a wife whothinks.”
Christiana recalled the way Hugh had found her amongst all his books. The mess she had made—assuming, erroneously, no one would discover her—and the way he had merely lowered himself to sit with her, asking questions about her interests as though they’d mattered to him.
A servant came by with wine and lemonade, and Christiana sipped at her wine. “I am sorry I couldn’t invite Ewan,” she said.
“Don’t be! There could not be a situation in which he would be more uncomfortable.” Laura sent Christiana a wry smile. “And I am under no illusions, Chris. This was not a prudent marriage. The fact that you were able to persuade the duke to host me at all is a miracle in and of itself.”