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Morgan flicked the reins and turned the carriage toward the driveway.
‘I say, you sound frightfully eager to get rid of us,’ Cuthbert Reynolds called.
Morgan didn’t answer.
‘He is surly but his heart is in the right place,’ the man behind him, Roger Fairmead, announced. The young women opposite giggled and simpered.
Morgan shook his head and muttered something which suspiciously sounded like an oath before slapping the reins. He cursed when a curricle shot past the carriage before he could guide the horses into the driveway.
‘Watch what you are doing!’ he called to the curricle’s driver.
‘Arrogant sod,’ Ralph grumbled. ‘That’s Arthur Rigger. The bloody fool is going to kill himself.’
‘If he doesn’t kill someone else first,’ Morgan growled.
Shaking his head, he watched the curricle raced down the driveway at breakneck speed. Rather than turn out onto the road and head out into the countryside, Arthur swung the vehicle in a wide arc and retraced his route, barrelling down the driveway toward Morgan’s Barouche even faster. Delighted squeals of terror and hilarity came from the young woman beside Arthur, who seemed completely oblivious to the danger she was in.
Morgan dropped the reins he held and jumped down from his carriage. Racing into the driveway, he planted himself firmly in the curricle’s path leaving Arthur no choice but to slow down to a stop.
‘What are you doing? You are going to get killed,’ Felicity Hillary cried from the Barouche.
Morgan didn’t answer or take his hard gaze off Arthur. Before Arthur could ask what was wrong, Morgan stalked up to the man’s horse and grabbed its reins. ‘Do that again and I will damned well walk this horse to the end of my driveway and you won’t come back onto my property. Slow down, you damned fool. This isn’t a race and you aren’t clever.’
Leaving Arthur staring open mouthed at him, Morgan released the horse and returned to his Barouche. Seconds later, he turned his carriage down the driveway at a considerably more sedate pace. Behind him a stilted silence developed until one of Mariette’s friends, Felicity, found the temerity to ask: ‘Where are we going?’
‘Just through the village and over to the small town of Skellerton. By the time we get there, luncheon will be served. While we have gone the maids will pack your belongings and have everything ready for your departure,’ Morgan replied without bothering to look at her.
‘Oh, but I had thought that everyone might be able to stay another day,’ Mariette offered hopefully.
‘No. Certainly not,’ Morgan bit out. He couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘I have business to attend to. The staff are busy clearing up after last night’s frivolities. They don’t have the time to pander to guests. Seeing as we had so many guests last night the staff at the Dowager House fair no better. They are busy, and so am I. I am sure your guests will understand.’
‘The invitations they received were for just the ball,’ Ralph argued, aware of the discontented grumblings behind him.
‘Indeed, but some do take liberties,’ Morgan replied briskly.
This, from the Lord of the manor, was more than enough to warn Mariette’s friends that to push to stay any longer would earn his annoyance. Further, they all knew that they wouldn’t be invited to any future balls or social functions if they upset him.
‘It’s fine, Mariette. I must be on my way anyway. I have a dinner to attend tomorrow and need to purchase some more ribbons,’ Felicity offered with a smile.
While the carriage’s occupants engaged in desultory conversation about the various social functions they intended to attend next, Morgan focused on guiding the Barouche out onto the road. Huge black storm clouds rolled overhead, threatening to ruin the day, but Morgan didn’t care. He didn’t care about the guests in his carriage, his sister’s anger, his mother’s annoyance that he had abandoned the ball last night to avoid all marriageable females. In fact, he didn’t care about anything.
Except Sissy.
‘Mother of God. Does he never learn?’ Ralph growled when they turned out onto the road only to have Arthur force his curricle past the narrow gap at the side of the road and race ahead of them.
Once free of the Barouche’s obstruction, Arthur flicked his horse to go faster and the curricle picked up pace.
‘It serves him right if he has an accident in that thing.’
‘I wouldn’t ride in the damned thing,’ Cuthbert growled from behind him. ‘The man’s a fool, but you know how he likes to show off.’
Morgan had lost interest in what Arthur did. ‘I don’t care if the man ends up wrapping the vehicle around a tree, as long as it isn’t any of my trees that he wraps that vehicle around. He can keep going as well. Let’s hope he doesn’t come back.’
‘I say, my Lord, are you going to the Henderson’s dinner next week?’ Felicity asked, with eyes that were full of hope.
Morgan threw her a brief look and mentally cursed when he saw the lively interest in her steady gaze which was far more personal than he was comfortable with.
‘No,’ he grunted. ‘I am busy elsewhere.’
