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“Do you not have a warm brick at your feet?” she asked, concerned by the girl’s excessive trembling.
“No, milady,” she replied between chattering teeth.
With atsk,Angele reached under her seat, pulling out the box that contained two heated bricks. Opening the lid, she found that although still hot, the bricks were cool enough to be handled. She extracted one and held it out to the maid.
As Angele turned towards the girl, a look of surprise crossed the maid’s face. Angele’s veil had been pulled aside by her action, revealing the scarred portion of her face. Hastily, she reached for the black gauze, placing it back into position.
“Milady, there is no reason to be afeared on my account. My sisters and brothers all had the smallpox when they were young. Only one brother survived, and ’is face is ruined. My stomach is strong; you don’t need to stay covered up around me.”
Angele passed her the brick then placed the box back into position under her seat, thus giving herself time to think before she replied.
“What is your name?” she finally asked.
“Ivy Shepherd, milady.”
“Ivy, I am most melancholy to hear about your family. When I am out, I prefer to remain covered, but when we are alone and you attend me in my chambers, I shall take you at your word and allow you to remove my veil. However, should it come to my attention that you have gossiped about my facial disfigurement with other members of the household, you shall find yourself summarily dismissed.”
“Yes, milady, thank you, milady. You may rely upon me for my discretion, milady.” The girl turned her flushed face to gaze out of the window. “Oh dear, the snow be settling thick upon the ground.”
Angele looked out; it was indeed. At least an inch of snow coated the verge by the roadside. Snow fell so thick and silent that the world beyond the carriage appeared blindingly white. There were no features to be seen, not even a tree. All that was visible now was the dizzying snowstorm that engulfed them, surrounding them in a muffled embrace.
The coach halted. The carriage rocked as the driver climbed down and rapped upon the door. Ivy bent to open it. “Begging your pardon, milady, but I don’t like this weather. It be making the way forward difficult. The horses are exhausted, and they need attention. I suggest we turnabout and return while we still can.”
“We are about half way are we not?” Angele queried.
“Aye reckon we are slightly less than half way, milady. ‘T’would be best we turnabout.”
“Non,pray continueen route,” she replied.
“Ma’am, I really think...”
“I will take full responsibility. We will press onward.”
The coachman sighed deeply, touched his hat and closed the door. Moments later there was a shuddering lurch and the coach moved forward.
Chapter 3
Lord Gabriel St. Nicholas, Earl of Yulerton, took one look out of the window and cursed. Setting his cup aside, he strode from the room, through the house and a myriad of servant passages, until he reached the boot room. There he donned his warm, waterproof beaver hat and stout leather boots, before pulling on a greatcoat and gloves. The two hounds bedded down in their respective baskets rose and stretched, sensing adventure. Their litter of seven-week-old pups were cosily asleep in a tangle of heads and tails. The bitch cast an eye over her litter. She seemed content to leave them now they were older and not so reliant upon her.
“Come!” Gabriel commanded the two older hounds, opening the door to the freezing air. The weather was as he’d noticed from the breakfast room—icy, and snow was starting to fall. He hastened to the stables. Greeting North, his head groom, he gave instructions for the exercise and care of his horseflesh should the freezing temperatures persist. Then he asked for Star, his bay stallion, so named for the star-shaped blaze between his eyes, to be tacked. If the weather closed in, it was best he stretch the beast’s legs now to ensure the animal coped with the enforced inactivity that a significant snowfall might cause.
He gave the stallion his head from the start, the hounds streaking behind in an attempt to keep up, finally reining the horse in as they reached the estate boundary. The dogs zigzagged from scent to scent, yipping with excitement.
It was on his return he noticed a coach had stopped just shy of the gates of Michaelmas Hall.
What the devil?
The masquerade ball was a week away, he expected no guests before then. Who on earth was this entering his grounds? He clicked his tongue at Star and headed towards the cumbersome vehicle. As he approached, a coachman knelt before a broken wheel. The man must have taken the turn through the gates too wide, possibly because the edge of the highway was concealed under a thick layer of snow.
He rode forward, surprised to see his brother-in-law’s coat of arms emblazoned on the side of the carriage.
“Robin, Mary?” he called.
A black-gloved hand moved the window down, and a woman stuck her veiled head through the carriage window.
“Non, my lord, your sister was simply kind enough to lend me her conveyance. As you can see, we are in need of your assistance.”
Gabriel froze in his saddle, and not from the biting winter chill. Surely he recognised that melodious female voice, and yetit could not be. His pulse quickened. His temple throbbed.
