The Notorious Marquis of Wickerley by Camille Oster

Author:Camille Oster [Oster, Camille]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2015-08-23T04:00:00+00:00

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Chapter 19:

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After thanking Cousin John and anyone else who turned up from the village when they left, they set off for Cornwall. Cecily wasn't sure the marquis was strong enough to travel, but he insisted. Clearly he never listened to anything she said; although, she could understand his desire to get home. Even she started to crave more space as the cottage was getting smaller every day.

They sat together on the cart's small bench as they rode west through the stragglers of Cromwell's army, still there, but much less than there had been before. Cecily expected the bulk of them had sailed across the sea now, and most seemed quietly relieved to have them gone. While the New Model was said to be comparatively well behaved, no one was comfortable with their presence.

Speaking of discomfort, the silence sat heavily between them. Cecily had nothing to say and the marquis wasn't a natural talker. She had to wonder how he ever managed to form his formidable reputation at court being so sullen and withdrawn, but she was starting to guess he had changed quite dramatically since.

They had no money left, so couldn't stop at any of the inns, and had to content themselves with the provisions they had taken with them. The rain squall coming through made it all the more miserable, and Cecily started to appreciate the warmth of his body next to hers, while still trying to keep distance.

They slept just off the road under a heavy oak, him on the back of the cart and she below on the grass. Sleep tended to claim him the moment he lay down, but she took longer, her aching body protesting from the constant jarring of the cart.

They were making good distance, his determination pushing them forward. Perhaps he was eager to be away of her company, too. He had made no attempts to claim his rights. Perhaps she didn't inspire him and it was a distasteful task for him; she wouldn't be injured if that were the case. She still couldn't imagine what it would be like. It seemed so outlandish.

Turning over, she tucked her hands under her cheek and felt herself grow tired. It hurt to think; there were so many thoughts whirling around her head. As much as she said she regretted her actions, particularly when he angered her, she knew it wasn't true. Rescuing him might result in a great deal of discomfort for her, as well as for Reverend Hapstill, but for all that, her conscience was clear, and Reverend Hapstill would understand that. Hardship was easier to suffer if one's conscience was clear.

The sun had returned by the time they rode down the estate road. The barley was tall and swaying in the breeze, almost ready to be reaped.

"You have done well," he said quietly. She wasn't sure she'd heard right at first. That might be the first compliment he'd ever paid her.

"Thank you," she said, clearing her throat. "I didn't manage the far fields, and I didn't manage any of it alone.

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