Page 44 of Yielding to Love

Chapter Fifteen

Camellia was going to Tunbridge Wells! When she’d learned that Major Taverston was taking Neville and Mr. Diakos, she said he must also bring her and Mrs. Clay. He’d responded impatiently, “Yes, fine.” He didn’t look pleased, but he didn’t say no.

The following morning, he brought a hired carriage around to the back of the house. It was a bit battered, with peeling paint and yellowed curtains, drawn by two horses that looked long in the tooth. He said he’d left Mercury at the Fitzhenrys’ stable since he was driving the carriage himself.

He threw their baggage to the top of the vehicle, then climbed up to tie it all down. She liked to watch him work. He was so…competent.

Mr. Diakos brought Neville alongside, lifted him into the carriage, and then hoisted the chair up to the major. He handed Mrs. Clay in next, and reached for Camellia’s hand.

“Miss Harrington,” the major called down, “you might prefer to ride with me on the box.”

“Oh. Oh, all right.” She didn’t know why he would think that. The box was even higher than Mercury’s back. Still, she stood aside. Mr. Diakos entered the carriage and shut the door. Major Taverston climbed down and helped her to the driver’s bench, then mounted the box beside her.

“I apologize,” he said. “This carriage was the best I could acquire on short notice. It would be cramped inside with four, and it has an odor.”

“I see.” She clutched the edge of the seat. There was no cushion, and the wood was worn smooth. Slippery smooth.

He grinned. “Is it heights you fear then? Not horses?”

She made a noncommittal noise. “I love horses. Little horses.” Her palms were sweating in her gloves. “My father used to breed Yorkshire Trotters. I adored the foals.”

“Oh?” For a moment, he looked thoughtful. “Well, you needn’t worry.” His eyes glinted wickedly. “I promise you won’t fall off.”

“Go slowly.” Her tone was threatening, not pleading.

He kept to a mercifully slow pace as they left the yard and started down the drive. They rattled over the cobbles until they reached packed dirt. Then he let the horses trot. She loosened her grip. It wasn’t terrible as long as she didn’t look down.

“I’ve never been to Tunbridge Wells. Thank you for taking us.”

“Never?” He glanced at her quickly, then back at the road. “When it is so close by?”

“My mother’s physician did not think it would help. And my father refused to try.”

He was quiet for a long moment, then said, “May I ask, how did your parents die?”

She breathed deeply. “My mother had a wasting disease of some kind. We thought consumption, but after she passed, her doctor said it was more likely a growth.”

“She was sick a long time?”

“Years. I was nineteen when we first knew she was sick. She died when I was twenty-three.”

“You took care of her?”

“Yes. Although we had more servants then, I rarely left her side. My father took it very hard when she passed. He’d lost two wives and loved them both.” She paused. “He was not so much ill as he was broken. He could still do for himself. It wasn’t like with Neville.”

“You said you let servants go?”

“He had acquired a good deal of debt, so we had to.” She hurried to say, “Neville sold his commission, of course, so he cleared Papa’s debts.” More papers she’d shoved under Neville’s nose. She wasn’t entirely sure he knew that the money was gone.

“And then your father passed also? Mr. Castor implied…”

“We’d heard about Vitoria. Everyone was celebrating. We thought it meant the war’s end was near. Papa seemed to come back to life.” She cleared her throat. “It took another month before a letter came from the War Office. It said Colonel Neville Harrington had been severely, likely lethally, wounded at Vitoria. My father had a heart seizure. He died the following day.”

He winced. “I’m sorry.”

“Neville doesn’t need to know that. It isn’t Neville’s fault, but he doesn’t need to know.”

“Of course not.”