Carla Kelly Read Online Free Page B

deep as he dared of the icy blast and then pulled his hat low and his riding coat tight around him. He carefully shook his head over his mother's attempts to get him inside the carriage and waited, reins held in slack fingers, while Emma Costello carried in the last bandbox.
    As she went to climb in, her cloak caught on the door handle. Her hands full, she struggled to free herself and then glanced in his direction, as if to ask for help.
    Embarrassed, he shook his head, knowing that if he dismounted, he would disgrace himself again. To his further chagrin, she quickly lowered her eyes and turned away as if humiliated, continuing her efforts to free herself until Robert dismounted with an oath and lent a hand. Lord Ragsdale watched as she hurried inside the carriage, closed the door, and made herself small in the corner.
    Merciful heaven, I am off to such a start with this one , he thought as he regarded Emma another moment and then gently eased Champion into the street. Please, please let this London Season go by quickly.
    They traveled steadily into a dreary afternoon, the clouds gray and threatening, the wind coming in puffs of blasting cold from all directions at the same time. Robert kept him company for part of the journey and proved to be an amiable companion. He was one of those persons who, if given free rein to talk, would carry on a merry discourse that required little comment or addendum from another. John was content to listen to his cousin. He learned all he ever wanted to know about tobacco farming, the growing slave trade, and the trouble with Federalists without having to respond beyond the occasional “Hmm,” or “Indeed.” Robert's mellow voice with its soft drawl was soothing in the extreme. By the time Robert succumbed to the weather and begged a seat inside the coach, John was almost sorry to see him surrender.
    As soon as Robert retreated to the relative comfort of the family carriage, Lord Ragsdale realized that the next few hours of travel would hang heavy. The day was no warmer the farther they traveled into it, and he felt ill unto death. Had he traveled by himself, Lord Ragsdale would have stopped at the first hostelry that appeared to offer clean sheets and quiet premises. His head began to throb again.
    He was about to stop the coachman, admit defeat, and plead illness, when Sally Claridge came to his unexpected rescue. He was swallowing his pride and rising bile when his mother lowered the glass and rapped on the side of the carriage with her umbrella. The coachman reined in and peered back at her. Lady Ragsdale opened the door and leaned out to speak to her son.
    “John, Sally is experiencing some distress from the motion. I know this will irritate you, but could we stop early tonight?” she asked.
    It was all he could do to keep from bursting into tears of gratitude. Dear Sally, can it be that you are as estimable as your brother? he thought as he faked a frown and then nodded, hoping that he did not appear too eager.
    “If we must, Mother,” he responded after a suitable length of time had passed. He sighed heavily for the effect and then wished he hadn't as his stomach heaved. “Let me ride on ahead and find the nearest inn,” he offered, hoping that the inmates of the carriage would see his act as a magnanimous gesture rather than a desperate attempt to get out of their range of vision before he disgraced himself.
    Lady Ragsdale nodded and spoke to Sally, who raised her pale face to the window and blew him a kiss. He glanced at Emma, but she studiously ignored him. Ah, well , he thought as he tipped his hat and spurred ahead, eager to outdistance the carriage. I can puke in peace.
    When the carriage arrived at the Norman and Saxon, Lord Ragsdale was in control of his parts again. The inn was full of other clients who must have had second thoughts about the weather, but he was able to secure a private parlor and two sleeping rooms. While he waited for the carriage to arrive, he