"I am not asking you to travel in the same coach as Margaret." There was a frayed edge to his voice that warned Polly she was pushing against his outer limits. "You may
travel in your own vehicle, which, like Margaret's, will be under the protection of my outriders and postilions."
"And what about the stops we must make along the way?" demanded Polly, unable to understand how he could not see how impossible it would be for her. "Must I stay under the same roof, or will you scout the countryside each night for two suitable neighboring inns in which to house your-" She was about to say "whore" in imitation ot Lady Margaret, but caught herself in time. "Your mistress and your sister?"
Nicholas gave up the attempt to reason with her. "I will make what arrangements I deem necessary," he said. "If you oblige me to use torce to achieve your compliance, I will do so. But in such a situation you will find your position much more embarrassing than anything you fear at the moment, I can promise you."
"Dear me," came a quiet voice from the door. "I do beg your pardon for intruding, but matters must be serious if Nicholas is obliged to resort to threats." Richard stepped into the parlor, closing the door behind him. "I am come to bid you farewell. I leave for Wilton House this evening, and assume you will be gone yourselves without delay."
"I will not travel with Lady Margaret!" Polly cried in despair. "And Nicholas is going to make me! Can you imagine what it would be like, Richard?"
"Worse than being dead of the plague, I suppose," snapped Nick.
Richard frowned, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "As usual, I suffer from the dvibious gift of seeing both sides. It would be wretchedly uncomfortable for you, Polly, but Nick cannot be in two places at once, and neither you nor Margaret can travel without his escort."
"I am quite willing to do so," muttered Polly, then her eyes lit up. She clapped her hands with inspiration. "Why cannot I travel with you, Richard? If you go to Wilton House, we may go together, and Nick can join us there once he has seen his sister-in-law safe with her brother."
There was a short silence, while Polly looked hopefully
between the two of them. "I would not be any trouble," she assured hesitantly.
Richard laughed. "My dear, I should enjoy your company. Will you entrust me with the charge, Nick?"
"If you are willing to take on such an intractable wench, then you have my blessing… and my condolences," replied Nicholas, his annoyance for the moment unabated. "If she has Susan with her, at least you will not be obliged to act as tiring woman!"
"Well, of all the things to say!" spluttered Polly, pink-cheeked. "As if I would ever-"
"You are capable of anything," Nick interrupted. "It was not so long ago you unilaterally decided I would make a suitable patron and proceeded to adopt me-quite without my say-so, as I recall."
"You are unjust," Polly accused, blushing furiously. "My patience is not inexhaustible, and you have tried it sorely," Nick retorted in explanation. "If you are to leave with Richard, you had best call Susan and get on with your packing."
"I will leave you to make peace." Richard, ever the diplomat, went to the door. "I will delay my departure until tomorrow sunup, Polly. Can you be ready by then?"
Polly assured him that she could, and the door clicked shut in his wake. She turned to Nick with a tentative smile. "I did not mean to try your patience, love. I do not wish to part bad friends, and you will be all of three weeks upon your journey." The smile hovered on her lips, the anxiety of an innocent unjustly accused swam in the deep forest pools of her eyes, her chin trembled, and her shoulders sagged a little. Nick groaned in defeat, reaching for her with ungentle hands.
On a glorious morning at the end of June, thoughts and images of a plague-ridden metropolis no longer sharply etched in mind and memory, Lord Kincaid and Mistress Wyat were riding through the fields skirting the park of Wil-
ton House. Polly was atop a broad-backed piebald of sluggish disposition. Her own disposition left much to be desired.
"I will not have my bridle held any longer!" Polly declared on a lamentably petulant note, plucking crossly at the leading rein, which her companion held loosely with his own. "You said you would teach me how to ride, not how to sit like a cabbage whilst you lead my horse."
"For as long as you sit like a cabbage, so shall I hold the leading rein," Kincaid said equably, waiting for the explosion. It came with predictable force.
"I do not sit like a cabbage-"
"Your pardon, Polly," he murmured. "I thought that was what I heard you say."
"You are detestable," she said with feeling. "I can make this stupid animal go forward and left and right and stop. When will you allow me to do it alone?"
"When I am satisfied that your seat is secure enough," he responded coolly. "You do not wish to fall off, do you?"
"I am not going to fall off," Polly muttered. "It is so mortifying! There is to be a hawking expedition on the morrow, and I would wish to go. But I cannot when you lead me like a baby."
" 'Tis your foolish pride that will prevent you," Nick said, with a touch of acerbity. "There is no reason to be abashed simply because you were not bred to horsemanship from childhood. You will be a good horsewoman, I promise you. But for the moment you are learning, and I am teaching you. So do as you are bid and cease this shrewish railing, else I abandon the task."
Polly glowered at him from beneath the wide brim of her black beaver hat. "I do not need this leading rein. I will prove it to you."
"Indeed you shall," Nick said soothingly. "By the end of the week, if we ride every day, you shall then show me exactly what you can do on your own."
Polly compressed her lips. She had no intention of waiting until the end of the week, and she had every intention of
joining the hawking expedition on the morrow-without another hand on her bridle.
They turned onto a broad ride running among majestic oaks, chestnuts, and copper beeches; the sun filtered through the leaves, dappling the mossy ground beneath the horses' hooves with dancing will-o'-the-wisps. The sound of voices drifted through the sultry air along the path ahead.
Polly pulled back on the piebald's reins; the stolid animal came to a puzzled halt, tensing his neck against the contrary tug of the leading rein.
"Now what is the matter?" Nick drew rein.
"Can you not hear the voices? 'Tis Lady Castlemaine and Buckingham," Polly whispered, trying to turn her mount, who became thoroughly confused by the conflicting instructions he was receiving from leading rein and bridle. "They are coming this way, and I will not be seen by them like this." She tugged again at the rein Kincaid held. "Lady Castlemaine never loses an opportunity to say something belittling, and I'll not put the weapon in her hand… Move, you stubborn, stupid animal!" Frantically, she urged the piebald to turn. Nick, grinning, provided the necessary encouragement with his own rein.