Managing Mary by Jessica Scarlett

Author:Jessica Scarlett [Scarlett, Jessica]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 3

Mr. Pruitt stalked away and unharnessed his horse from the curricle before galloping away. During that time Ellis stayed face-down, either in the interest of self-preservation, or because the blow had rendered him unconscious.

Oh, dear me.

When the hoof beats of Mr. Pruitt’s mount grew distant, Ellis popped his head up, and his scowl was visible even through the new coat of mud.

Oh, dear, dear me.

With deliberate movements he got to his feet, never breaking his livid stare. I expected him to unleash his wrath in a scolding that would carry on for the better part of my life, but all he did was mutter darkly, “I’m going home.”

The mud around my arms had begun to chill. I shivered and said, “I’m coming with you.”

“No. You are not.”

My mouth dropped open. “So you would leave a lady stranded out here all alone, without anyone to defend her honor? What would people say! And what if I were to lose my way? Or a highwayman came and robbed me of every penny I owned?”

“Then you would deserve it,” he said lightly.

“Ellis! At least take me to the inn. It is not far from here—much quicker than walking all the way to Gladney.”

He shook his head. “I am not falling for any more of your tricks.”

I huffed and crossed my arms. “Fine. Then at least permit me to follow deferentially behind you. You cannot object to that, can you?”

Mouth pinched, eyes narrowed, he eyed me, no doubt trying to discover the ulterior motive behind my words.

But I didn’t have one. That would just be ridiculous.

Absolutely ridiculous.

“Fine,” he said. “You may follow behind.”

Pulling my face into a haughty expression, I gestured down the road with a theatrical bow, indicating for him to lead the way. Lifting his chin with as much dignity as any gentleman coated in grime from head to toe could possess, he started down the road, and I followed.

The stars smiled overhead, amused at our little brown procession in the wee hours of the morning. By now, some of the mud had begun to dry, turning to patchy coats of dirt on my dress. In silence we walked the better part of three miles. It was exhausting, and my feet were already sore, but I didn’t complain, too afraid of stoking Ellis’s simmering ire into a raging blaze.

Up ahead, the road diverged in two different directions. Ellis slowed, ultimately coming to a stop when we reached the split. He looked back and forth between the paths, forehead wrinkling.

“Which way?” he asked.

“Hm?”

He twisted around. “I’ve been gone for a while. I don’t know these winding countryside roads like I used to—and there have been several new additions. Which of these paths is the way to Gladney?”

I looked around, up at the stars, anywhere but at him.

“Which is the way home?” he repeated.

I cocked my head and lifted my brows. In a little voice I said, “Neither of them.”

But Ellis heard me and went completely still. “. . . What?” Crickets chirped, an audible representation of the nervous flutters flaring in my stomach.

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