AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Mrs. Booth was probably the only one he felt comfortable discussing his father, the earl, with. “The same.” Alec looked at her. “No, that’s not true. He’s worse. He doesn’t recognize me anymore.”
“How very difficult for you.”
Alec shrugged. “It is what it is.” He rose. “So, when do you leave to join your family?”
“Tomorrow morning, if it still works for you.”
“Of course. You’ll have to give my best to Kim and Tony and their families.”
Chapter Three
It was acold morning. Really cold. Cara had come thinking temperatures would be similar to that of Seattle, but instead it was frigid, and she had to dress in layers—camisoles and T-shirts followed by more shirts and then a thick sweater—topped by the winter coat. Fortunately, the layers worked, and with the fluffy scarf around her neck and warm gloves on her hands, she was as prepared as possible for the walk to Bakewell.
Despite the coat and layers, the cold made her cheeks sting and her eyes water, but it did help ease the tightness in her chest. She shouldn’t let Lord Alec Sherbourne hurt her feelings. She didn’t want to feel hurt. Having woken up at three in the morning she’d found it hard to go back to sleep and had been looking forward to having a proper breakfast, but Alec Sherbourne’s disdain had changed her mind about that.
It was good to be out, too, stretching her legs, getting much needed exercise and fresh, invigorating air. She didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night every night she was here, so the sooner she adjusted to the time change, the better.
A small, blue truck pulled up next to her, and a man, somewhere in his sixties, unrolled his truck window. “Good morning, miss, it’s Trimble from the Park. Do you need a lift somewhere?”
She recognized him as the man who was supposed to carry up her suitcase last night. She shook her head and smiled at him. “Oh, no, but thank you, Mr. Trimble, the exercise is just what I needed.” She hesitated. “This is the way to Bakewell, isn’t it?”
“Yes, miss. Just follow the road all the way through the big gates. The gatehouse will be there on your right. Keep on from there and you’ll see signs for the shops and restaurants.”
“Oh, good. I’m hungry. Can you recommend a place for breakfast?”
“Granby Café is popular and easy to find in the center of town.” He hesitated. “I could take you there, no problem.”
“You are so nice, but walking will do me good. I read somewhere that being out in the sunlight helps adjust to the time change.” She glanced up at the gray sky, so very much like where she lived.
She couldn’t help smiling again. She was fine without sunlight. She was fine no matter what happened, no one was going to ruin her trip, not even Lord Snooty.
“Do you think the Gardener’s Cottage will be ready for me this morning?”
“I will find out.”
“Thank you.”
“When it’s ready, I’ll drive you there.”
“Oh, that would be lovely. I’m already all packed. My things are downstairs where Mrs. Booth can keep an eye on them for me.”
“Why don’t you ring me when you’re done with your breakfast and I can come get you?” Mr. Trimble reached into his glove compartment and pulled out paper and a pen. He wrote down a number and passed the paper out the open window to her. “I think you must do something when you call from a US number, I forget—”
“I remember. Don’t worry. Thank you so much. I’m sorry I’ve caused trouble.”
“No trouble, none at all. We’re all just sorry your holiday has started out with so many bumps.”
Saying goodbye to Mr. Trimble, Cara continued on to town, walking briskly, grateful to have Mr. Trimble’s number, just in case, but she was happy to walk back to Langley Park. She needed to be out and about, stretching her legs, and finding her way around.
Cara reached Bakewell in about fifteen minutes and there was some traffic, but it was relatively light, which was probably a good thing as the road was narrow and she kept forgetting which way traffic would be coming from. Twice she went to cross the street and looked the wrong way, but finally she’d reached the center of the village and approached the roundabout with the fountain. She could hear a river off in the distance.
Cara couldn’t find the café Mr. Trimble had mentioned, but she did find a café on the corner of the main street, a sign outside on the sidewalk advertising breakfasts until twoPM. Cara entered and studied the menu while in line. When it was her turn, she ordered eggs and toast, and after paying, she took the number given to her and sat down at a little table near the window. The café was busy, and she enjoyed listening to the bits and pieces of conversation around her, enjoying the English accents and chatter. This was what she had come for. Something so different from what she would get at home. New experiences, new people, new memories.
And then she heard an American voice, and it was a voice she recognized, a voice she knew quite well. After darting a quick glance to confirm her suspicion, she shriveled in her seat, trying to hide, desperately wanting to be invisible. She hadn’t come to England for Christmas to escape Chet, but she certainly hadn’t come to see him. And his new wife.
Cara shuddered, ducked her head, and tried to plot how she’d make an exit without being discovered.
*
