“Safe travels back to your wife.” He tossed an extra sovereign up toward the perch. “I’ve left a small coin purse in the carriage for you to do with what you will. If it were me, I’d purchase a horse on my way out of town.”
Beattie nearly missed catching the sovereign. “Howmuch coin is in the back of my carriage?”
Jonathan waved a hand. “I didn’t say you could purchase ‘the’horse. Perhaps I want the famous one for myself. I know nothing about horseflesh, but the best studhorse in England can’t be a poor investment, can it?”
Beattie stared at him. “If they wouldn’t sell it to Prinny—”
“Then he didn’t offer the right price. I agree, I agree. You’re a crafty one.” Jonathan slapped the side of the carriage. “Go on now, before you beggar me dry.”
As the wheels crunched over the snow, it almost sounded like Beattie muttered, “No one will believe this story.”
Jonathan grinned to himself. All good stories were slightly unbelievable, and thebeststories were the least believable of the lot. It was his sworn mission to live the unlikeliest tale he could devise.
“Mr. MacLean,” said the duke’s butler. “Allow me to take your hat and your coat. I’m afraid His Grace isn’t expected until the day after tomorrow.”
The duke’s butler didnotadd, “Because you’ve arrived two days early.”
Partly because a duke’s butler was far too refined to make such a pointed observation, and partly because someone as well-prepared as Nottingvale would keep his cottage ready for guests at all moments, despite only hosting once per year during his annual Yuletide party.
“No, thank you,” Jonathan said politely, keeping his hat and coat. But he tipped the butler twice as much as the footmen all the same. “I’ve only just got here. I want to explore a bit before I settle in.”
He would spend more than enough time in the duke’s house once the others arrived. His partner, first. Jonathan had arranged the meeting, and Calvin was bringing all the illustrations and samples necessary for convincing the duke to invest in their sartorial venture. Jonathan had agreed to meet Calvin a day early to practice their proposal. Which meant, from tomorrow on, Jonathan would be stuck inside. This afternoon was his opportunity to explore the outside.
For such a small village to feel like an adventure, the key was to walk everywhere. It would take longer and he would notice more. Jonathan loved noticing things. He had learned to draw in order to remember all the things he noticed. He usually ended up giving those drawings away, aye, but that was because a vagabond explorer must travel light.
All Jonathan kept were memories.
He made exaggeratedly careful steps in the packed snow along the edge of the road. Sliding down a hill could be great fun when done on purpose, but twisting an ankle was no start for an adventure.
Also, he was wearing the smart traveling attire that Calvin had designed, with extra coat pockets and a cashmere-lined waistcoat. An impeccable carriage outfit, one which Jonathan could foresee being worn on countless future exciting journeys, so long as he didn’t rip a hole in the knee flailing about on tricky hidden patches of ice between here and the castle.
Not that he was goingstraightto the castle. That was what ordinary people did when they visited Cressmouth on an ordinary holiday. The castle employed most of the town and housed most of its visitors. There could not be a more boring place to start.
Jonathan wanted to know who these people were that didnotlive or work in the castle. They couldn’t all be dukes, and ducal servants. Some must be ordinary villagers, that couldn’t be helped, but the same logic indicated some villagers must beextraordinary, and those were the people Jonathan wanted to meet.
Cottage, cottage, cottage... He was friendly, aye, any gentleman ought to be, but not so pushy as to knock on the doors of complete strangers in the hopes of becoming momentary friends. The trick was to run across them casually, whilst they were walking down the street or riding an overpriced studhorse about their farm. Cottage, cottage...
What’s this?
He jerked stock still, a posture that could have been mistaken for military precision were it not for the extremely flattering, extremely comfortable, only slightly wrinkled carriage outfit he wore as his uniform.
This was a shop of some kind, with the living quarters upstairs, and a charming stone chimney with a faint plume of smoke.
From this angle, Jonathan couldn’t make out the wooden sign swinging from squeaking hinges beside the door, but enough candles were lit inside to give the impression sunlight flowed out, rather than in through the many windows.
Open for business, then, and a perfect place to find something extraordinary.
Everything anyone could ever want was in the castle, Jonathan had been told. The rooms to let were a little dear, but the entertainment was free—musicians, dancing—as was the bountiful food. Three hot meals served daily in the grand dining chamber to anyone who wandered in, as well as refreshments just inside the castle doors for passers-by to enjoy. Mulled wine, hot chocolate, biscuits with and without raisins, no doubt. A lake, a hill, walking tours, an open-air market in the back garden, weather permitting. The list of delights went on and on.
But the castle couldn’t haveeverything, no matter what they claimed. It wasn’t a smithy, for one, nor was it a stud farm. Whatever this unassuming little shop contained, it was alreadybetterthan the castle, because it had something the castle didn’t.
Something Jonathan was about to discover.
He inched closer, careful not to slip on the ice and slide through the open door in an ungainly yet fashionable heap.
He almost fell anyway.
The shop contained the most stunning woman Jonathan had beheld in his life. Who cared what she was selling? He would be content to gaze upon her bonny face until the sun set and the candles sputtered out.
