at her face. There was another carriage stopped in front of them, and Granby was talking in earnest conversation with the driver, one hand clamped over his hat to prevent the wind from whipping it away.
‘There is some sort of hold up,’ she said to her maid as she put up the window once more. ‘Granby is looking into it now.’
Moments later the valet yanked open the door. Even though he was standing on the most sheltered side of the carriage the wind swirled around and threatened to drag the coach door out of his hands.
‘The road is under water, ma’am. A culvert has collapsed. One wagon has already tried to drive through and has broken an axle. No one is hurt,’ he hastened to assure them, ‘but we must turn back.’
Reluctantly Eve agreed. She glanced past him at the rain, still sheeting down. The thought of spending another couple of hours returning to Monkhurst was not a pleasant one.
‘Very well, Granby. Tell Dan to drive back to the nearest village. We will put up for the night.’
But when they drove into Udimore, Eve took one look at the rundown hostelry and quickly changed her mind. She ordered Dan to drive back to Rye.
‘What I saw of the slatternly maids and greasy landlord convinced me we should not be comfortable there,’ she said to her maid as the carriage set off once more. ‘Granby tells me we passed several well-appointed inns at Rye. We shall do better there.’
‘I do hope so, madam,’ replied Martha in a failing voice. ‘I fear if I don’t get out o’ this jarring, jolting cab soon I shall have to ask you for your smelling salts!’
Eve laughed. ‘Then I would have to disappoint you, Martha, for I do not carry such a thing!
‘Well then, it’s a good job I put a bottle of Glass’s Magnesia in your dressing case! With your permission, Miss Eve, I shall take some as soon as I can lay my hands on it.’
‘You would be better advised to take a little walk and get some fresh air,’ replied Eve, ‘but as you wish.’
She looked out of the window. The rain had eased a little and looking up she saw the squat tower of Rye church, secure on its hill, a black outline against the lowering sky. The clatter of hooves on the cobbles told Eve that they had reached the town and she knew a few moments’ anxiety when they pulled up at the George, only to be told that every available room had been taken, but minutes later the carriage turned into the yard of the Mermaid, another busy coaching inn, and Granby was holding open the door for her to alight. Evelina had the impression of overhanging eves and a half-timbered building surrounding the yard as she hurried across to the entrance. She was immediately shown into a small private parlour filled with gleaming brassware and polished panelling.
‘This is very much more the thing!’ she exclaimed. ‘A warm, clean room and the most appetising smell from the kitchens. I vow I am quite famished. Granby must bespeak dinner for us as soon as maybe.’
Her maid groaned. ‘I feel as sick as a cat, miss.’
‘Poor Martha. Sit you down then and rest until the landlord brings us coffee. Or should I ask him for some tea?’
‘Just as you like, miss. I wants nothing more than to sit quiet for a bit.’
‘Then you shall do just that. Granby is organising our rooms for us and will see that our bags are taken upstairs. I never realised before how useful it is to have a man to do these things for one. Perhaps I shall keep him on, after all, as my major-domo.’ A glance at the pale figure sitting beside the fire showed her that Martha was not listening, so she busied herself instead with making them both comfortable. She helped her maid to remove her bonnet and cloak and put them with her own over a chair. A rosy-cheeked maid brought in her coffee, apologising for the delay.
‘We’ve been that busy, what with the storm and everything. Every table’s took.’ She looked around, smiled and bobbed a curtsy. ‘You’m lucky to have this parlour, madam. You’ll be comfy enough in here.’
As the maid went out, Martha opened one eye. ‘Will you not sit down, miss? You must be exhausted, all that travelling—’
‘Not a bit of it! I did not like being bounced all over the road, but I am more excited than tired. You know how little I have travelled. My last real journey was to go to Tunbridge with Grandpapa two years ago and the pace was so slow and decorous I think we would have moved quicker had we walked!’ She went over to the window and looked out. ‘If it would only stop raining, we could take a walk now and see the town.’
Her handmaiden groaned again and Eve turned back to her.
‘Poor Martha, here am I, chattering on when you are feeling so poorly. You do look very pale, you poor thing. Perhaps a little Magnesia would settle your stomach. I wonder where Granby can be. He will have taken the dressing case to my bedchamber. Well, perhaps the landlord can show me the way.’
She went to the door and looked out. The corridor was very busy and through the doorway opposite she could see that the taproom was packed with men enjoying a mug of ale and pipe of tobacco while they sheltered from the rain. To her right was a much more ordered scene, for the corridor opened on to the coffee room where travellers were seated at small tables and were served refreshments by a number of harassed-looking waiters. Of the landlord or the cheerful maid there was no sign. Undeterred, Eve stepped out of the room to go in search of her host. The ancient building was large and irregular, and for a moment Eve could not decide on the best way to go. She had seen a number of people using a door on the far side of the coffee room and surmised that it would lead to an inner hall where she might find an obliging chambermaid who would take her upstairs. Eve made her way quickly through the coffee room, trying to ignore the inquisitive stares of its patrons. She kept her eyes fixed upon the door, putting out her hand as she approached. It opened easily, swinging away from her and she spotted Granby in the corridor beyond, talking with a group of ragged-looking men. In her haste she did not see the slight step down and she found herself hurtling through the doorway, off balance. She cannoned off the man nearest the door.
‘Oh, I beg your pardon,’ she gasped as strong arms shot out to steady her. ‘I—’
Her words died away as she looked up and found herself staring up into the all-too-familiar face of Nick Wylder.
Evelina’s breath caught in her throat and for an instant she thought she might faint. The look of surprise on Nick’s face gave way to one of wry humour. The corners of his mouth lifted.
‘Oh, lord,’ he murmured. ‘This was not meant to happen.’
Eve regained her balance and pushed away from him. Something was wrong. It was her husband, but it was not the fashionable beau she had married. The superbly tailored frock-coat and snow-white linen were replaced with a worn frieze jacket and a coloured shirt, while his raven-black hair was no longer neatly confined by a ribbon and one black lock hung rakishly over his eyes. The blood was drumming in her ears as she sought to make sense of the situation.
‘You are alive.’ She could not take her eyes from his face. ‘But how, why—?’
One of the other men shook his head and said warningly, ‘Cap’n…’
Nick
