Eleanor Fitzherbert’s Christmas Miracle by Maggi Andersen

Author:Maggi Andersen
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Published: 2019-05-30T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

“SO, YOU’RE TAKING Nash to Bexley today.” Georgina raised her eyebrows. “With Lord Hayworth.”

“Yes, Georgie.” Eleanor gazed across the breakfast table and waited for her sister’s objections. Traveling into the countryside alone with an unmarried man who was not a relative was just not done. Despite her being a widow and no longer young.

Georgina buttered her toast. “I’m not sure that Hugh would approve.”

Eleanor poured herself more tea. “Then I shall not worry him about it.” But she rather suspected Hugh might be perfectly happy with the arrangement. He made no secret of his wish for her to remarry. She was aware that her single state worried him. Not that he minded her living with them, for they got on very well indeed, but rather, he hoped to see her happily married once more, as did her sister, her brother John, and his wife Sibella, and numerous other relatives.

“Hugh likes Hayworth. Not that it matters, I hasten to add. Hayworth has expressed no wish to marry me. He has merely offered to take us there. I suspect he’s as intrigued about Nash’s past as I am.”

Georgina warmed her fingers around her cup and peered at her over the rim. “Hayworth has the ear of the king. And with the coming coronation, he must be extremely busy.”

“I thought that, too.” Eleanor took a mouthful of toast and jam and chewed thoughtfully. “Perhaps he merely relishes a day away from London. I am sure his majesty can be very taxing.”

“Hugh certainly finds him so. Well, you seem confident that you will be perfectly safe and not compromised by such an action, so I suppose you should go,” Georgina said, surprising Eleanor. “Although I don’t see what you expect to find there. Nash’s family no longer live in Bexley, do they?”

“Not as far as we know.” Eleanor sighed. “We may not find anything at all, and I fear it will be upsetting for Nash. But we must at least try.” She scrunched her napkin and rose from the table. After an early frost, the sun shone from a clear blue sky beyond the breakfast-room window. “I’ll go up and get him ready.”

An hour later, Hayworth’s curricle crossed the River Thames and they drove through Greenwich. Soon, the bustling city was left behind, and they were on the road leading into Kent. The spring breeze was fresh on Eleanor’s face and toyed with her poke bonnet. Hayworth’s curricle was big enough for two plus the small boy sitting behind them. He was an excellent whip hand in Nash’s opinion, and had a prime set of bloods.

They passed the Dover mail coach lumbering up Shooter’s Hill.

“This used to be a haunt for highwaymen,” Hayworth said.

“Really?” Nash’s voice rose. “Do you have a pistol, Lord Hayworth?”

“I carry one as a matter of course. But we’re unlikely to come across any,” Hayworth said soothingly. “Not in broad daylight at any rate. In the past, Shooter’s Hill was infamous for its gibbets of executed felons.”

“My goodness,” Eleanor said, as Nash gave a gusty sigh in her ear.

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