The Riddle of Alabaster Royal Read Online Free Page A

well-being had helped him to withstand her demands, and he had left instructions that his curricle was to be at the door early in the morning, with Secrets, his black mare, tied on behind.
    Lady Faith was nothing if not determined. When he came down to breakfast, he was informed that the curricle would not be available due to the fact that my lady had driven out in it to visit some friends in Purley, but that she would return shortly. In view of the distance involved, this was unlikely, and since her ladyship had never in living memory been known to leave her suite before noon, or to be driven in a sporting coach, there could be no doubt but that this was a deliberate attempt to further delay his departure.
    Irked, he’d ordered out his phaeton, only to be told it was at the wheelwrights. His rare temper had flared and he had instructed his man to fill a valise with immediate necessities and send his curricle and two trunks to Alabaster Royal the following day. The valise had been strapped to the saddle, he had said his farewells to his dismayed and protesting valet, the butler and the housekeeper, and with the aid of an equally dismayed groom had mounted Secrets and ridden out.
    Now, he looked about him, his spirits lightening. The day was bright, with a warm breeze blowing and the old Thames threading like a diamond-studded ribbon through the low, rolling hills. It was England at her best, and as he skirted the town and entered open country he was warmed by the beauty of his native land.
    Like all Wellington’s aides-de-camp, he was a splendid horseman, but he was shocked to find that he now tired quickly. He was obliged to rest at a wayside inn near Farnborough, and not until late afternoon did he reach the outskirts of Andover. He acknowledged to himself that he’d been too sanguine about his state of health, and gave up, taking a room for the night at a pleasant hedge tavern where he ordered dinner sent to his room and fell asleep twice while eating a plain meal of fish soup, roast chicken accompanied by overcooked vegetables, and a gooseberry tart. He grinned drowsily, knowing that Sir Kendrick would have been appalled by such a menu, but compared to the roots and berries that had often been the only food available in Spain, he’d found it satisfactory.
    In the morning he awoke to leaden skies and a chill wind. His injured leg was making it clear that a day in the saddle had been unwise, and getting down the narrow stairs became a painful and difficult task. He was short of breath by the time he reached the ground floor, and much embarrassed to look up and find that two men were watching him narrowly. They were big fellows, fashionably if not elegantly dressed. The taller of the pair smiled sympathetically. Vespa nodded and hurried into the coffee room, knowing that his limp was pronounced, and dreading that he would be the object of all eyes. Fortunately, only one other table was occupied, the elderly lady and gentleman seated there being too involved in low-voiced but fierce bickering to pay him any heed.
    By the time he finished breakfast, he had come to the reluctant conclusion that he must either rest here for another day or hire a coach. He consulted the host, a cheerful little man who had already drawn his own conclusions about this guest. “Home from Spain, are you, sir?” he asked with a kindness that forbade mortification. “Ar, I reckoned as much. I’ll send my youngest over to the Green Duck. It’s a nice house no more’n five miles west of here, and they’ve got a post-chaise for the hiring that’s likely gathering dust. Not what you’re accustomed to, I don’t doubt, but it’ll get you where you’re going, and easier than riding in this weather.”
    It developed that the host had a young cousin who had served with the Fourth Division at the Battle of Salamanca, and while Vespa waited, the two men spent a congenial hour discussing the war in