He harrumphed and shook his head. “Do be careful. Horses can be somewhat unpredictable. Carriages are far safer.”
“But still have horses pulling them,” Gwen felt the need to elucidate.
“Be that as it may…” he muttered but hooked an arm through hers. “I’m so glad you are here as I’ve lost my spectacles and none of the maids nor the footmen can locate them. And I’ve three pages of additional notes for you to add to my paper for the society. And for some reason, Carew has refused to pack my favourite, red-striped stockings. And…”
Arm in arm, they climbed the steps to the doorway, the butler taking her pelisse and riding accoutrements as Papa continued with the litany of chaos that had befallen the household in her four days of absence, but Gwen smiled and held a hand to his cheek.
“We will solve all, Papa. Have you checked the olive tree pot in the conservatory for your spectacles?”
He pondered. Then beamed at her. “Do you know, you might be correct. As it happens, I came over a little light-headed as I had a sudden revelation concerning the lost circle of Brynfach and had to pause on that very bench beside the olive tree. I most likely popped them there for safe keeping.”
“Most likely.”
“Come to the study, Gwen dear. Tell me all about young Tristan. Whatwashe doing in Ireland?”
She followed the back of his untucked shirt. “They believe his boat was blown there or that he’d perhaps attempted to escape the storm by sailing into and through it. Although wreckage was…was found off the coast here in Wales, so mayhap he’d already lost his mast.”
“Sailing. Dangerous. I read it inThe Times. Best to stay home and…” He pottered to his desk and peered up. “Transcribe my notes?”
Gwen narrowed her eyes. “Papa, you will not deter me from my travels.”
He scratched his head and pursed his lips. “I have no idea where this fascination for travel comes from. Your mother and I were quite content with Wiltshire for our honeymoon.”
“You wanted to visit Stonehenge, Papa.”
With another harrumph, he sat behind his desk, a huge pile of notes spread before him. Significantly more than three pages’ worth. “You mentioned in your letter that Lord Tristan’s terrible ordeal has caused him to lose some of his memories? Do you recall that young miller boy wh–”
“Yes, Papa. I do.”
“Hmm. Well, Lord Tristan was always such a strong fellow. Perhaps his memories will return.”
Gwen settled herself on the lumpy sofa which Papa refused to have reupholstered. She smoothed her riding skirts, saw Tristan in her mind’s eye – haunted and shadowed but compassionate and handsome still. “I don’t believe it to be a concern if his memories return or not, Papa. He is home. That is all…all that matters.”
* * *
With a yawn,Gwen guided her mare past the ruins of theCastell y Ddraig,then took the fork in the track which led directly to the Llanedwyn estate stables, an enormous structure with barns for five carriages and boxes for fifty horses.
At Papa’s insistence, it being dusk and with footpads on the loose, two further grooms had accompanied her and Jonnet for the return journey through the Cythraul Woods, its ancient paths so silent that theGwyllgilegend,a ghostly black wolf of darkness with evil breath and crimson eyes, had seemed all too real. They’d not dallied but kept to a consistent trot, all of them startling as an owl’s screech had pierced the gloom.
She nudged her mare toward the open door of a stable box, where Jonnet had preceded her, and dismounted, her leather boots landing on straw-laden cobbles. Perhaps she would take dinner in her chamber tonight and peruse her maps in bed with a mug of Mrs Pugh’sspecialchocolate as she needed to chart her course along the Amalfi coast.
A glimmer of light caught her eye from one of the stable boxes at the far end, and she paused, tilted her head.
“Who’s that?” she asked Jonnet.
“Miss Cadogan, my lady.” He took her mare’s bridle and sniffed. “She’s been here all the nights this week tending to her horse.”
With a frown, Gwen walked down the cobbles and peered over the closed lower half of the box door.
Mari was feeding her favoured chestnut mare peppermint treats and whispering into her twitching ear.
“Mari?”
The young girl swivelled and held a hand to her heart. “Oh, Lady Gwen!”
She smiled. “Is your mare well?”
Mari blinked. “Yes.”
