“To be fair, had I known of your love of color,” she said, sweeping her hand in a half circle, “I would not have been so critical.”
“That waistcoat received numerous compliments.”
“From women only, I imagine–women who wanted to insinuate themselves into your good graces.”
Leaving the cup on the ground, Simon stood and closed the distance between them. She looked right standing here in his garden. “The Earl of Dobbie liked it.”
She snorted. “The Earl of Dobbie is too old to know better.”
“Daniel told me Eva wanted a dress made of the exact material, which should probably have told me something.”
She giggled, and the sound reminded Simon of her lying beneath him on the bed whilst he’d tickled her. Clearing his throat as his body stirred to life again, he suggested they return to the house and prepare to leave.
“Were these gardens the result of my hands, I would be very proud, Simon.” She said the words over her shoulder so did not see his smile.
“How do you feel after your night’s sleep?” he questioned her, changing the topic.
“Wonderful, which is probably not how I should be feeling, considering what I am about to do. However I do feel that way. My eyes are not scratchy, and my limbs are not heavy. I feel ten years younger, Simon. Thank you.”
“It is a chore, to be sure, but it seems I will have to sleep with you every night from this day forwards just to ensure you get a restful night’s sleep.” She laughed, as she was meant to. “Now if you pack your things, Claire, I shall rouse my lazy coachmen, and we shall get back on the road.”
They talked of plants, and she demanded he tell her all the varieties of roses he knew. After stopping for something to eat at a small inn, they were soon again on the road. Claire again started questioning him, this time asking him how many species of flowers he could name, to which he replied lots and far too many to mention.
They played word games as the carriage rolled on and then sat in companionable silence until he fell asleep, as he always did when he was in a carriage for too long.
Simon woke once again looking at Claire. He could get used to waking up looking at her. She was far prettier than his valet.
“You should bring a stick, then you could poke me when I nod off,” he said yawning.
“The idea has merits, however I also enjoy the silence,” she said looking out the window.
“Because I rattle on so much?” Simon teased stretching his arms, trying to work out some of the knots he had received from being trapped inside a small space for too long.
She didn’t answer him, instead shrugging and looking out the window and he could tell while he slept that once again the weight of what she was doing had settled heavily on her shoulders. No longer was she the teasing woman of earlier.
Lifting the hatch above his head he instructed Merlin to leave the main road to Liverpool and find a quiet, less frequented inn to stop at for the night, where he hoped they would not run into anyone they knew. The chances were unlikely, as the London season was at its height, yet he would not take that risk. Simon watched Claire grow quieter as dusk began to fall. She had stopped talking completely by the time they pulled to a halt outside a small establishment.
“It will be all right, Claire.” Simon took her hands. “We will prentend you are my wife tonight, as this will give you protection and put us in the same room. I will take the chair or the floor,” he added as she opened her mouth to argue, as he knew she would.
“All right. If you think that is best.”
He was surprised at her agreement but did not comment, instead leading her inside.
“I wish for two rooms, please–one for my wife and I and another for my coachmen.”
The proprietor had narrow eyes, to Simon’s mind. However he was clean, and from the little he had seen, his establishment appeared to be, too.
“Your men can sleep in the stables.”
“I want my men in the room next to my wife and I,” Simon said politely. “If you have a problem with that, sir, we shall find somewhere else that does not.”
The man grumbled and then nodded for them to follow him.
“I want a private parlor, also,” Simon added, hearing loud voices coming from somewhere inside the place, “and a meal set out, if you please. Plus warm water for bathing. Again, I will pay for these privileges.”
Their room overlooked the courtyard below and appeared clean enough. It held a chair, a bed, and a rug on the floor.
“If you could have tea readied, sir, I will bring my wife down shortly,” Simon said to the man before he left.
“Yes, my lord.”
Claire had wandered toward the window and was looking down below.