Page 24 of The Favourite

“Most assuredly.”

“Should we not wait for their return?” Jane asked. “He looked grievously injured.”

“I think that would be most imprudent.” Seeing her frown, he added dismissively, “All will be well, Jane. You must not squander your concern on him.”

“Well, what about the man with the bloodied head cloth?” Jane persisted as he settled in the seat beside her.

“That was Davis, the driver from our second wagon,” he explained. “He—er—got injured moving their conveyance.”

“Oh, I see.” She frowned. “Well, what about their horses?”

“There weren’t any.”

“But—”

“They must have broken loose before we reached them,” he yawned. “Can we drop the subject now? It grows tedious. Give me a share of your blanket, wife,” he added before she could grow affronted. “I shall catch a chill and be laid up at this rate.”

His hair was wet, she noticed, and curling at his neck for he wore it rather long. She was just reaching for the blanket when she noticed a smear of blood across his knuckles. “My lord!” she said, snatching up his hand. “You are injured!”

“Most likely just a splinter,” he shrugged, wiping it away with a handkerchief. “I’m more cold than injured.” Picking up on his hint, Jane shifted closer and started unwrapping herself to share the blankets. He set an arm about her shoulders as she tucked him in and sighed. “That’s nice.”

“I hope you have not actually taken ill,” she muttered, trying not to focus on the fact Viscount Bardulf was cuddling with her in a carriage.

“So do I,” he murmured. “For I make a devilishly bad patient. Complaining and feeling sorry for myself and the like.”

She ignored this, staring down at his hand. There was no splinter. Indeed, she could not even see a graze. “How far do you suppose we are now from Kinnerton?” she asked and thought her voice sounded unnaturally high and thin. Why did he make her so nervous? she wondered for the hundredth time.

“No more than an hour now, hopefully rather less.”

In all, Jane was pathetically relieved when Bardulf’s manservant shouted back at them that they had turned off the road for the Kinnerton estate. She had no idea what kind of welcome they would receive there, for no one was expecting them, and likely her uncle had been quick to step into the master’s shoes.

She felt in no mood to tackle him this evening about rightful ownership, for she was tired and sure the damp cold had seeped into her very bones. There had been a persistent drip from the roof of the carriage for the past half hour that she could not dodge however much she squirmed about on the seat.

It was twenty minutes later that they finally came to a halt. Her new husband handed her down the steps and she heard the door being pounded by Davis, the driver from the second carriage. He now had a bloodied bandage wrapped about his head and looked more than a little disreputable in the evening light. “Open up within!” he bawled, and Jane surmised he had sustained no serious injury.

A window opened somewhere above them. “Who’s there?” quavered a suspicious voice.

“Your new master and mistress!” Viscount Bardulf answered in cool tones. “We bring orders from the King. Make haste if you please.”

The window slammed shut again and Jane found her cloak being bundled around her shoulders by a solicitous Wat. “Lest you take cold, my lady,” he said. She thanked him and they heard the sound of a bolt being drawn back.

“Mercy!” was the exclamation on first sight of the looming wagon driver, who was now leaning against the door frame. “’Tis brigands!”

“We certainly met with some on the road!” Wat explained, hurrying forward. “But we are not thieves. We have journeyed here on orders from the King himself.” He started exchanging hurried words on the steps as Bardulf yawned beside her.

“A tiresome business,” he murmured. “I hope they will not keep us waiting out here half the night.”

“What did Wat mean, we met brigands on the road?” Jane asked him accusingly, for suspicions were now forming in her mind.

“Well, those tolls we paid coming out of Aphrany were nothing short of daylight robbery,” he replied.

Then suddenly, Davis seemed to stagger and Lord Bardulf darted forward so quickly, Jane was startled. He caught the man, even as he started to fall. “Wat!” he shouted, and his servant left his spot arguing on the step and came to his master’s aid.

To Jane’s surprise, no sooner had Wat helped lower the fallen man to the ground, than Alisander sprang up, marching for the door. “Move aside,” he said in an upraised voice. “This man needs urgent attention. He has suffered a blow with a cudgel.”

He did not wait for them to change their mind; he simply shoved his way in to protesting cries on the other side of the door. “That’s enough!” he said crisply. “We have shown patience and you are now denying your rightful lord admittance!”

Jane hurried forward, pulling back her hood. “Perhaps you recognize me!” she said quickly. “I attended my sister’s burial not two weeks ago.” By this point, however, the servants had fallen back and were all standing about in various states of nervous resentment.