“They must be very important friends that you are so determined not to disappoint them.”
He did not look up, and an awkward silence fell between them. Their easy camaraderie was gone. Damn. He might as well tell her the truth and be done with it.
Finally, he said, “They are a family I got to know while in the East Indies. John Fullbrook was chief aide to the governor of Penang, but has retired to his family estate in Bedfordshire, near Clophill. His son is a good friend, Captain Fullbrook of the Valiant. And…there is a daughter. Mary.”
“Ah.” She gave him a rueful smile. “So you are to marry again?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Perhaps. It is, I believe, expected. It is why I have been invited.”
“You sound reluctant. Not exactly the eager bridegroom.”
“No, I am ready to make an offer. Mary is a fine woman. And I have been alone these eleven years. With the wars over, I am content to settle down in Sussex and get to know my land. I am ready to be married again.”
“Well, then. I must wish you happy.”
“I haven’t made an offer yet, Willie.”
“Then I wish you luck.”
He smiled sheepishly. “Thank you.”
“May I walk out with you? I’d like to enjoy a bit of sunshine after such a gloomy day.”
“Of course. Though it’s likely to be muddy. And chilly.”
“I’ll dash upstairs for a shawl and my old half boots. They are not remotely stylish, I warn you, but eminently practical and impervious to mud. Perhaps I’ll have a walk about the village after I wave good-bye as you drive away.”
He backed down the steps and held his hand out to her. She took it and allowed him to guide her to the main floor. When they stood together beside the alcove, mere inches apart, he suddenly realized-or remembered-how small she was. The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. It somehow made her seem younger, as though she was still that sweet girl in Cornwall. Except that she smelled like a woman. She wore a spicy, slightly musky fragrance that reminded him of some of the exotic plants he’d seen in the East Indies. For an instant, he wanted to wrap himself up in that fragrance, to taste it on her skin.
It was a good thing he was leaving. Sam was very close to making a fool of himself. Again.
Instead, he gave her his arm and escorted her out of the public room, which was only half filled now. He’d been so wrapped up in Willie that he hadn’t noticed how many customers had left.
“I’ll only be a few minutes,” she said when she left him at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll look for you in the yard.”
Sam shrugged into his greatcoat, put on the cocked hat he still wore even when not in uniform, and walked outside. The main entrance to the Blue Boar opened onto the inn yard, just beyond the arched carriage entrance. His boots scrunched in the wet gravel of the yard as he made his way toward the stables in the rear.
His curricle was one of several vehicles parked beneath a long, simple, open-front structure beside the stables that served as a carriage house. Two ostlers were standing nearby, one of them gesturing at Sam’s curricle.
“Look lively, lads,” Sam said in his booming quarterdeck voice as he approached. “I need this rig made ready to go. If you’ll be so good as to harness my team, I need to be on my way.”
One of the ostlers touched his cap and said, “Clemmons, at yer service, Cap’n. This here be yer curricle?”
“It is. Now, if you’ll see to bringing ’round the horses, I’d appreciate getting this ship ready to sail.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, Cap’n,” the ostler said, “but you got yerself a problem here.”
“What problem?”
“Me and Jim, here, was just talkin’ ’bout it. Looks like yer left wheel’s broke. See, this here spoke is clean split from the hub, and the next one be loose. Can’t put no weight on this wheel without bringin’ the whole carriage down.”
Sam bent to examine the wheel. Damn and blast. The wheel was shot. The ostler was right; there was no way it could be used. “How in the name of Old Harry did this happen while I was inside tipping a tankard? The wheel was fine when I drove in.”
“Yer sure ’bout that, Cap’n?” Clemmons asked. “Might’ve come loose when it hit a rut. Roads here ’bouts get right pockety with the rain.”
That was certainly true. He’d had the devil of time negotiating ruts and potholes along the last stretch of muddy road, and once or twice had taken a fairly hard bounce. It had been pouring buckets when he turned into the Blue Boar’s yard, and he’d flung the reins to an ostler while he dashed inside. He might not have noticed anything wrong in his haste to get out of the rain. But it wasn’t like him not to notice something as obvious as a broken wheel. He rather suspected it was one of the ostlers who’d been too rough in handling the curricle in the flurry of activity that brought so much unexpected custom to the stables.
“I suppose it must have been a rut,” Sam said, skewering both men with a glare that had sent many a midshipmen scurrying with fear, “though I still find it hard to imagine how I didn’t notice the wheel had split.”
“Happens often enough, Cap’n,” the second ostler, Jim, said as he tested the other spokes. “Most folk don’t notice nothin’ till it’s too late an’ the carriage turns ’em top over tail. It’s lucky we noticed it afore yer drove off an’ tossed yerself in a ditch.”
“Yes, well, I thank you for your keen eye. Now, what-”
“We can get it fixed up fer yer right an’ tight in no time,” Jim said. “Wheelwright’s just across the green. I’ll take it over meself and have a couple o’ new spokes fitted up. Shouldn’t take long.”
Sam tossed him a few coins and thanked him. Another delay meant he would likely not reach Clophill until after sunset, but it couldn’t be helped. He turned to walk back to the inn, and when he entered the yard saw Willie coming toward him, wrapped in a large Paisley shawl and wearing sturdy brown boots that somehow managed to look fashionable on her. She smiled as she stepped carefully on the slippery gravel, and there was something about that smile and the way her eyes seemed to dance with mischief-another flash of the Cornish girl lurking beneath the worldly sophisticate.
“You are looking at me with the oddest expression,” she said when he reached her side.
“Because you remind me of a girl I once knew.”
She laughed and cocked her head to one side, peeking up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet. “Was she pretty, this girl?”
“The prettiest girl I ever saw. She was beautiful. And still is.”
“Sam! You will make me blush. At my age. But where is your carriage? I have come to see you off.”
“You will have to wait a bit. It seems I’ve got a broken wheel and it must be repaired.”
“Oh, what a bother. But at least we can spend a bit more time together. That is, if you’re not bored to death with me already.”
He took her hand and tucked it in the crook of his elbow. “I shall contrive to stay awake if you will walk with me a while. Since we’re both dressed for outdoors, and the sun is shining again, let’s see what Upper Hampden has to offer.”
Wilhelmina bit back a smile as they strolled through the carriage way toward a small village green. She had hoped he would stay. In fact, she hoped Sam would remain at the Blue Boar for the night. She wasn’t ready to give him up just yet. It was selfish, to be sure, but, dear God, it was pure pleasure just to look at him. And to remember those long-ago days in Cornwall when she thought she would die for loving him.
But this was not the gangly youth she’d once known. When he was a boy, Sam had grown tall seemingly overnight. Unaccustomed to his new long limbs, he was sometimes rawboned and clumsy in his movements. Now he had impeccable posture and a sure-footed grace-no doubt a result of years of shifting his weight against the rolling decks beneath him. And he had filled out rather nicely over the years-broad-shouldered and solid. Just the way she liked a man. In his greatcoat and hat, he was a large and formidable presence. And sinfully attractive.