The Right Reasons

Chapter Seven

As begrudging as she was to admit that she was foolish, Arabella held her suitcases with both hands and continued walking beside a muddy path. She wasn't confident that she was going the right way. Or how long it would take.

She was enjoying the taste of freedom it provided her, however. No one new she was a duchess; in fact, no one knew she was Arabella Lockway. He could run around like a child, burst into a fit of giggles, and say rash things without being scolded.

On occasion, she was passed by a wagon or cart and darted- like a scared cat- to the edge of the forest, praying that the green servants gown she had snatched on the way out helped her blend into the dangerous looking forest.

She watched her step to make certain that her path was clear of snakes or, heaven forbid, stinging nettles- that was an important step. In her childhood, she had been chasing Alice and unfortunately slid straight into a patch of the hairy plant. She had experienced pain for hours, and suffered from red and white tipped bumps all over her body.

She missed the carefree days of her childhood, nettles and all.

Her feet began to ache. It was only her second day of walking. It appeared to her that she must give her poor labor ing limbs the proper rest they needed.

Sighing at the slower pace, Arabella reminded herself, "Good things come to those who wait." In a soft voice she repeated her chant, hardly noticing the carriage that rolled up beside her.

The door popped open with a click, and the man inside leaned outward.

"Ma'am."

"Good heavens!" Her hand jumped to her chest and she took in a sharp breath. She spun on the small heel of her boot to face him, extremely alarmed to say the least.

"I didn't mean to startle you." The man leaning out of the carriage smiled a crooked smile that seemed more natural on a small boy than a man of his assumed age; however, he was decidedly not her husband and her emotions were mixed. He reeked of mischief.

"Well, I would hope not. May I help you in any way?"

"Perchance may I offer a ride?"

"The nearest inn is not far," she replied, weary of the stranger. Of course she did not know that.

While he was dressed in fine clothing from what she could tell and seemed to possess refined intellect, Alice's constant stories of "handsome highway men" had soaked into her brain. He was handsome indeed. She noted that she preferred her husband. The wind ruffled black hair with pale skin that provided an intriguing contrast. Mayhap it be better to walk.

"The nearest inn is at least a few hours walk from here."

She could not argue with the stranger, who seemed to know his way.

"I suppose I could rest my feet a little."

Every muscle in her body screamed, Don't do it.

She hesitantly stepped into the carriage.

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The nerve in his forehead twitched. His mother was smiling smugly in the corner. Through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw he replied to her, "I do not miss her."

Her smiled lifted into a smirk. "Son, your house is empty."

"Yes?"

"You sent all your servants to find her."

"I don't want some pompous brat ruining our reputation." He gripped his brandy tighter. She crossed the masculine library. Gently, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"You're foxed, son."

He opened his mouth to argue but then... Indeed he was. "This happens all too much," he muttered, dropping his crystal glass and cradling his head.

The crystal shattered on the carpet and his mother jumped away with a high pitched squeal.

"Now look what you've done. I have half a mind to lock away the liquor."

He glared at his mother.

"Never worry," her voice dropped low, as if she was going to share a secret, "I like wine too much. Like mother like son, they say. Or am I backwards? Oh, never mind! I want grandchildren and I can't get them with that young lady frolicking."

"You have finally lost your wits, Mother. England is big enough, and she may already be on a trip to India." He just hopped she wasn't still in London, wondering the streets like a vagabond.

His mother began to pace and click her tongue. "No, she seems more reasonable than that."

"The Pennines," Jasper mumbled.

Her heels clicked as she came to a stop. She turned to face him. The fireplace made his mother's laughing lines and grey hairs seem more prominent. He often forgot how old she was. She always dressed elegantly and age never appeared to touch her. "What?"

"She smelled like the Pennines."

His mother smiles broadly. "Oh, son. It's been ages since I've been! I pack my travelling bags," she replied, slipping out the door before he could argue, "and I knew you fancied her!"

Her triumphant yell echoed in his head, the alcohol wearing off.

He did not, under any circumstances, fancy his wife.

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Kind of a filler, I know. Sorry! But I wonder who that handsome man in the carriage was... Hmm... What do you think?

WE MADE IT TO THE "WHAT'S HOT" LIST BTW! Thank you guys so much for your support!!! <3

I wish you a (late) Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year!

~Emmilin