Chapter Six
It took several drops of laudanum, a bottle of brandy at the ready, and her dog Chartreuse, but Lady Blackwell was eventually ready to travel. She fell asleep almost immediately and Meg and Dougal climbed into a separate carriage to give her privacy, following behind. A chaperone was meant to be at the ready at all times, but as Meg was no longer a debutante fresh out of the schoolroom, it hardly signified. And there was no one to fuss over it at any rate, especially since Clara had gone for a walk. It would do well enough.
And it wasn’t as though she imagined Dougal was waiting to leap on her.
Although, she could certainly imagine it.
Quite clearly, as it happened.
His mouth would be hot against her throat, his hands firm at her waist. His weight would press her into the carriage cushions, deliciously heavy. His breath would turn ragged, filling her ear with the sound of his desire. Heat flared inside her at the thought. She wondered that her stays didn’t melt.
“Are you comfortable?” Dougal asked politely, his rough voice scraping against her pulse, even from across the carriage.
She cleared her throat. “Yes, thank you.”
Comfortably mortified.
She turned her attention to the carriage, over-decorated and ridiculous in its ornamentation. She adored it. The ceiling had been painted with a great many doves flying across a turbulent sky. The seats were done in a matching gray-blue, with gold paint on every other available surface. If the abbey was anything like this, no wonder Pendleton had chosen her. Dougal followed her gaze, looking embarrassed. “It came like this,” he said. “The previous family’s tastes were….excessive.”
“I love it.”
He was surprised. “You do?”
“It’s entirely too much,” she agreed cheerfully. “But also entirely unapologetic. Sometimes we need a little beauty for no other reason than it brings joy.”
How many times had a painting, or a particularly creative piece of embroidery saved her from feeling dejected or lonely? Or vengeful, to be truthful.
“You can’t eat beauty.”
Except, sometimes you could. Art had put food in her belly more than once. Her embroidered handkerchiefs sold quite well at the village dress shop. No one had to know that a bloodthirsty fury sometimes lurked beneath the white threads of snowdrop flowers and prancing rabbits. And her uncle could find little fault in her “ladylike” habits, as long as her other work was completed.
She didn’t say any of that, of course.
“You might not be able to eat beauty, but if your belly is already reasonably full, beauty can feed other parts of you.”
“I suppose so.” He leaned forward as if he was sharing a great secret. He motioned to the doves over his head. “I still don’t like it.”
She grinned. “Fair enough.”
“But if you love this, “he said. “You will love the abbey.” He seemed to stumble over the word. “I’ve never seen so many murals. Even in the kitchens.”
“Oh, I do love that.” She tilted her head. “Do you know you flinch when you say the word abbey?”
“Caught that, did you?” When she nodded, he sighed. “I get the feeling you see more than the average person.”
She tried not to beam at that, but it felt like a compliment, like sunshine sneaking under her stays.
“I never imagined I would own an abbey of all things,” he admitted. The road bumped by outside the window, abandoning Little Barrow for the fields and wooded glens. “Though, it’s not exactly that anymore. Nor a hall, or a manor. It’s more of a hodgepodge. Like someone made a stew from the week’s leftovers.”
“It must be quite…different from where you lived before.”
“Yes.”
He didn’t say anything else. Fair enough. She wasn’t rushing to tell him that she had to pick wild mint for her tea and that she spent most mornings cleaning the grates of her childhood home under her uncle’s sneering glares. Or that she had to bribe the Cook, who was loyal to her uncle, for butter.
“Has the duke spoken to you about your treasure?” She asked quietly instead.
Dougal leaned his head back. “He was very sorry about letting that information go public,” he said. “But I don’t see the fuss. How bad can a historian be?”