An Improper Encounter (The Macalisters Book 3) Read online

  “Might I inquire how you came to employ your coachman?” William asked as the coachman disappeared to the other side of the carriage.

  “My brother sent him to me,” Sarah explained. “Soon after my marriage, Mthunzi arrived on my doorstep with a letter from my brother, Bennett, asking me to offer him employment.”

  “Seems like a strange gift,” William commented.

  Sarah half shrugged. “Bennett is a Captain in His Majesty’s Navy. Occasionally on his travels, he comes across an individual who is in need of assistance, and Bennett provides what he can.”

  “He removes them from their situation and sends them to England in the hopes his family will employ them?”

  “Something like that,” Sarah answered. “Mthunzi is from the south of Africa. He did a service for my brother, and in return, my brother rewarded him with emancipation papers and safe passage out of the country.”

  “That must have been quite a service Mthunzi did for your brother,” William replied.

  Nodding, Sarah continued. “He saved his life. I don’t know the details, as my brother’s letter was vague, but Bennett claimed Mthunzi saved him from some disastrous fate and, in turn, Ben saved Mthunzi. Mthunzi arrived at my doorstep, pledging his allegiance to Ben and, by extension, me, and I set him up as a groom in the stable. He has been by my side ever since. By now, he is my man of everything— coachman, footman, butler, body guard. I do not maintain a permanent residence, so I am only in need of a maid and a coachman.”

  A small picture was beginning to form in his mind about the type of people Sarah and her family were. By her own admission, it was a clan of do-gooders, saviors, and champions. William could not help but wonder if she intended him to be her next charity, though the thought did not bother him in the slightest.

  Trying to ignore the peculiar look William was giving her, as the warmth spreading through her was certainly from the warm sunlight, Sarah grasped for a safer topic.

  “Where has Abe run off to?” Sarah asked, looking around for the black beast from the night before.

  Glancing across the street, William nodded his head towards the dog. “Aye, he will be along in a moment, I suspect.” She followed his gaze to where two young boys were playing with the black dog. They were tossing a stick back and forth, trying to entice the dog to fetch, but Abe had no interest in retrieving the slip of wood. Instead, he bounced around between the two boys, barking happily.

  “He is not the type to retrieve things, then?”

  “That dog has never retrieved a thing a day in his life,” William replied. “He has no interest in bits of wood, birds, or foxes for that matter. The only things that remind him he is from a hearty stock of hunting dog are squirrels. And I have no interest in squirrels.”

  William let out a cadence of quick whistles, and she watched as the dog stopped in his tracks, perking his ears before he came barreling across the road to where they stood in the stable yard.

  Abe was larger than Sarah had remembered; the water the night before must have damped down his coat. He was mostly black with brown on his face and legs and he had the sweetest eyes as he looked up to Sarah expectantly.

  William bent down to the dog’s level, scratching him thoroughly behind his ears.

  “He hails from Aberdeen,” William continued. “My mother’s family breeds this type of setter, but Abe here did not get the hunting trait.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Sarah agreed, patting the dog’s head.

  “Shall we be off ?” he asked. “We are burning through the luxury of daylight.”

  Sarah sighed and looked at her horse with disdain. “Yes, if we must.”

  Mthunzi had produced Sarah’s lead horse, acquiring one of her brother’s horses from the stable yard, supplementing the set to pull the carriage. She managed to mount her horse and find her seat, but she wasn’t looking forward to a day on horseback.

  “You look annoyed,” William observed from below. “Do you not enjoy riding?”

  “Actually, no,” she replied. “The rest of my siblings took to the saddle like a fish to water, but horses never agreed with me in the same way.” She adjusted her weight in the saddle. Sidesaddle was the worst thing in the world, in her opinion.

  “Then why did you agree to ride with me?” he asked, checking the belts and loops of his own mount, tightening where necessary. She watched him work for a moment longer, the way his brow furrowed as he pulled on a strap, his long, nimble fingers moving the leather through the loops. His handsomeness was highlighted in the morning sunlight, the gold in his blond hair catching in the sunshine, falling across his forehead.

  “I’ve been wondering that myself,” she admitted as he set one foot into the stirrup and swung the other over the horse fluidly. “I don’t hate riding. I just do not enjoy it. I’ve forced myself to learn enough to be proficient, but I would never choose this a pastime. A lady must know how to ride, so I do.”

  “A lady must do a lot of things that sound unpleasant,” William replied, leading his horse out of the inn courtyard. Sarah nudged her horse to follow, nodding to Mthunzi who watched her anxiously before taking his place on the carriage chair. With a few clicks and hails to the team, her carriage rounded the corner and drove away towards London as she and William headed in the opposite direction.

  The pair walked along for a few moments, their horses’ steps falling into sync beside each other. The village was charming, though she hadn’t seen much of it the afternoon before in the darkening skies and impending rains. Mothers scurried about with children at their feet, chatting and laughing with each other, carrying bundles of bread, eggs, and cheese as they made their way through the muddy town streets. It seemed a simple existence, but they looked happy.

  “As you despise riding, we should attempt to make the experience as quick as possible,” William suggested as they came to the end of the lane, the town behind them and the open roads before. “Can you manage something faster than a walk?”

  Sarah narrowed her eyes at his teasing tone, and he laughed before nudging his steed into a gallop and taking off down the road. Abe barked happily and ran after his master.

  “Alright, Athena, old girl,” Sarah said gently to her horse, leaning down to pat the strong muscles of her neck. “Let’s not make a fool of ourselves in front of Mr. Gordon.” Her grey Hanoverian mare shook her dark mane with a determination that she had not shed in her nineteen years of life. There was a strength to the horse and a seemingly wise soul, which had prompted Sarah to christen her Athena when she had received the horse as a gift from her father on her fifteenth birthday.

  With a flick of the crop, Athena leapt forward into a canter before a full on gallop, Sarah moving with her as her horse caught up with William, who had slowed to wait for her. At her arrival, his smile broadened, and his horse bounced forward to keep pace with Athena.

  They alternated between a trot and a canter for the better part of an hour, but it was the longest hour of Sarah’s life. She truly did not enjoy riding.

  The two slowed their horses as the wreckage came into view. The carriage was a britzka, an open top carriage with a retractable roof, large and spacious with four wheels, two of which had become detached in the wreck. The carriage seemed to be missing its front axle.

  William dismounted and tied his black horse to a nearby tree before moving to examine the wreck. Sarah did the same.

  “What caused you to crash?” she inquired, moving around the broken carriage. The front end of the carriage was shattered into pieces, and wood and debris littered the roadside.

  “I imagine a wheel broke in the rutted road,” he replied, couching down beside where axle would have connected the horses to the carriage. “I cannot know for sure.” He stood and brushed the dirt off his hands on his dark brown trousers. “Clearly the carriage is beyond repair, however, which is fortunate.”

  Sarah glanced at him sharply. “How is it fortunate that your carriage is beyond rep
air?”

  He grinned at her in reply. “It means I get to spend more time with you.”

  She rolled her eyes skywards. “You flatter me, sir, though I suspect you will find my company tedious after a time.”

  He laughed and muttered something to himself she could not make out, but it sounded Gaelic.

  “There is nothing more we can do here, I am afraid,” he admitted.

  “Is there anything you need from inside the carriage?” she asked, yanking on the door. She pulled hard, expecting the door to be jammed and requiring some force to pull it open, but to her dismay, it popped open easily, sending her sprawling backwards. She landed hard on her bottom, in a muddy puddle in the road.

  Sarah closed her eyes as she felt the cold mud seeping through her spencer, and she fought the urge to growl. Abe offered his aid, licking her cheek clean of the spattered mud. She clenched her eyes shut even tighter, hoping this whole thing was a nightmare.

  A shadow crossed her face, and she opened her eyes to see William standing over her, not laughing or smirking as she would have expected.

  “No, I do not require anything from the carriage,” he answered and offered her his hand. Reluctantly, she fit her gloved hand into his, and he pulled her to her feet. His face might have been devoid of laughter, but she could see it dancing in his eyes. Slowly, as if he couldn’t contain it any longer, his lips quirked into a laughing smile, and his brows popped up, daring her not to laugh.

  Sarah let out an exasperated laugh and shook her head.

  “Were you injured in your fall?” he asked, wiping away a clump of mud from her neck.

  She ignored the brown water dripping from her soaked clothing into her boots. “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Permit me to assess the damage,” he said, turning her around. Sarah’s face burned as he evaluated her backside, but she knew from experience with eight younger siblings, the only way to get past the humiliation was to go through it. Making a scene only made it worse.

  “You have a delectable rear, Sarah, even if it is thoroughly covered in mud,” he assessed, turning her around again. “I suggest we catch up to your coachman as soon as possible and release you from these mud-soaked clothes.”

  Sarah leveled an incredulous look at him but nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “For not laughing.”

  “Just because I am not laughing does not mean I won’t cherish the memory of you, prim and proper in your widow-grey riding spencer, sitting in a puddle of mud, wishing you would just disappear on the spot.” He grinned at her. “I suspect that image will aid me in my darker days.”

  William helped her back onto her horse, her bum sliding a bit as the muddy slime came in contact with the leather saddle.

  “Poor Mthunzi will have the devil of a time getting this mud off of everything,” she grumbled as they set off from the wrecked carriage site.

  “I suspect your attire will be ruined completely,” William added. “Though if it takes a bit of mud to get you out of your greys I will happily toss you into another puddle.”

  “I do not require such assistance,” Sarah replied. “And you would be disappointed to learn my entire wardrobe is in shades of grey.”

  “Then I shall toss them all into the mud.”

  “You really do not like grey,” she observed, glancing at him on his horse beside her.

  William shook his head. “It dampens you,” he replied.

  “What an oddly complimentary thing to say,” she stated. “No one else seems as offended by my widow weeds as you are, sir.”

  “Then no one else can truly see you,” he answered, looking at her.

  “And you can, after a little over twelve hours in my company?”

  “Sarah, I know you make little whimpering noises in your sleep,” he replied. “I know you take your tea with a splash of milk, and I know you detest the color grey but wear it out of a misplaced loyalty to a man and a society who do not deserve you.”

  Sarah shrugged off his comments as if they were unimportant, but it was unnerving how closely he had observed her. No one ever paid that much attention. Even her husband.

  “I wear grey because I am a widow, and it is what widows do,” she stated. “After spending a year in blacks, I am happy to have grey and dark lavender at my disposal. My days of wearing blues and reds and primrose are over.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says society,” she replied. “I had my chance at bright colors and high fashion. Now it is my siblings’ turn.”

  “Tell me about them,” he said, moving gracefully with his horse. “Your siblings. You refer to them as though you are happy to have them, yet you seem cross with them at the same time.”

  “There are many of them,” she replied with a sigh. “There were ten of us in total, before my older brother died over a decade ago. I am the eldest now, as I have five younger brothers and three younger sisters.”

  “You must have had an interesting childhood,” William mused.

  “At times,” she replied. “It was certainly not a quiet one. Do you have siblings?”

  “One,” William replied. “I’ve an older brother, Heath, though I haven’t seen him in over a decade. I cannot imagine growing up with nine siblings. Are you friends with any of them?”

  Sarah frowned. “Am I friends with my siblings? I know not what you mean.”

  “Do you enjoy spending time with any of them?” he clarified. “They must be a great deal younger than you.”

  “My youngest sister is but thirteen,” Sarah admitted and thought for a moment. “I suppose I am friends with my brother Andrew, as we are only a year apart. As children, he and I, along with the following two brothers, traipsed about our family estate without much thought to anything. When he left for Eton, my carefree days outdoors became few and far between. I suppose I am friends with my sister, Susanna, the next sister from myself.” Sarah paused and contemplated her relationship with her siblings. Did she enjoy spending time with any of them? Certainly, but did she consider them friends? She still saw most of them as children who needed tending.

  “It is a strange thing,” she said slowly, “being the eldest. I was the first to marry, the first to move away from our home when some of the others were still in the nursery. In a way I’ve been waiting for them to catch up with me. Now Andrew is married, and he will soon be filling his own nursery. Susanna will be wed before the year is over, if one of her two suitors comes up to scratch, and I’m sure Norah will find someone and do the same, hopefully. In some ways they are catching up to me, yet passing me by at the same time. I remain stuck in my widowhood as everyone moves on with their lives. Do I enjoy the company of my siblings? Yes, however, their presence is a constant reminder of what I will not have.”

  “All the more reason to remarry,” William suggested.

  “I had one husband, and it was enough of a hassle for a lifetime,” Sarah replied. “I feel no desire for another.”

  “Truly?”

  “Why should I? Husbands provide security and income. I have a title. I have familial connections. I am widowed, so I may own property, and I have money of my own.”

  “What about companionship?” he asked, and she tensed. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

  “I visit friends and family throughout most of the year,” she replied. “I am hardly alone.”

  “Aye, but are you lonely?” he asked again. “Being surrounded by people can be incredibly isolating.”

  “Yes, it can be lonely,” she replied softly. “But as a widow, that is my burden to bear.” Sarah swallowed back the rush of emotion. What was it about this man that made her want to spill all her innermost secrets?

  William didn’t say anything, and she was eager to change the subject.

  He must have intuited her wishes because he turned towards her, grinning. “Shall we quicken our pace? I suspect you are eager to get out of that muddy habit.”

  She was eager, though she had a sinkin
g feeling that with each step closer to London, she was one step closer to having him disappear from her life. She didn’t even know him, and already she had become used to his presence.

  Sarah was fairly certain she was losing her mind. “Quicker, yes, please, even if I do not enjoy it.”

  “I can see the road on the other side of this meadow, if we go across it, it is sure to be faster.” William didn’t wait for a reply, nudging his horse into a canter, and Athena dutifully followed without Sarah’s input.

  The romp through the field could have been nice and relaxing, a bit of fresh air and the thrill of riding a horse, had Sarah been inclined to such things. Instead, she was fearful she would slip off the side saddle, and her horse would go cantering off without her. She watched as William and his horse approached a low fence and leapt smoothly over it, and she realized Athena intended to do the same thing—only Sarah and Athena had last jumped over a decade ago.

  Panicking, Sarah pulled back on the horse’s reins, not willing to risk breaking her neck. The horse refused to give up the pursuit and, instead, Sarah found herself floating in the air above her horse as Athena gracefully leapt over the low stone fence. To her surprise, Athena landed smoothly, but Sarah came down hard on Athena’s back. All would have been well, if not for Sarah’s mud soaked backside, which provided little traction when Sarah’s weight was applied forcefully to the finely polished leather. The result was Sarah slipping off the saddle and landing rather ungracefully in the stream on the other side of the low stone fence.

  Turning to confirm Sarah had managed the low jump, William had an outstanding view of Sarah sliding uncer-emoniously off her horse and into the stream. This time, her tumble wasn’t as amusing to watch, and he quickly dismounted and ran to her side, hoping she was not injured.