Margaret Moore by A Rogues Embrace Page A

best of friends. He was audibly describing the attributes of a very fine, very new, very shiny black vehicle. Nearby, an old man with the gnarled fingers of a driver, clad in a long coat of Lincoln green and muddy boots, leaned against a wall, his arms crossed.
    She had not thought about a driver for the king’s wedding gift. Now she would have another servant to house, feed, and clothe.
    Far more disturbing was the realization that it looked as if her son were now Richard’s possession.
    Regardless of the dung and muck on the cobblestones beneath her booted feet, she strode toward both them and the magnificent coach. “I trust we are prepared to depart?”
    Richard’s arm slipped from Will’s shoulder as he turned toward her. “If that was the last of the baggage, we are.”
    “Good.”
    The coachman pushed himself off the wall while she took hold of Will’s hand and helped him inside the coach. She was about to follow him when she felt a hand on her arm.
    She immediately recognized the sensation of the length and strength of those specific masculine fingers.
    “Are you not going to scrape your feet first? Otherwise, I fear the journey will be most unpleasant.”
    “Oh.”
    She did as Richard suggested, dragging the sole of her boots against the stones with more energy than strictly necessary. She would not allow him to befuddle her, she silently vowed.
    In another moment she was in the coach, seated beside Will and opposite Richard, who rapped smartly on the roof. The driver called to the horses and with a lurch, the coach began to move. Because of the closeness of the mews, and then the crowded streets, they went at a walk.
    Elissa looked out the windows, whose leather coverings were rolled up and tied, and saw Mr. Mollipont waving a farewell. With a forced smile, she also waved good-bye.
    “I am hopeful we can make thirty miles today,” Richard remarked, crossing his arms leisurely.
    “But it is nearly noon,” Elissa replied. “Surely that is too far to cover in less than a full day.”
    “The horses are good, they are fresh, and the day fair. We shall try for thirty, and if we are unsuccessful…” He shrugged.
    Elissa decided she would not argue thepoint, or think about his lackadaisical manner. Obviously he was used to considering only himself. However, traveling with a child allowed no such luxurious selfishness. A hungry, thirsty child was a cranky child.
    Elissa turned her attention to her son, whose rapt gaze seemed to find everything outside the coach fascinating. Richard leaned toward the same side of the coach and pointed out the window.
    “Do you see that man with the bald head driving the other coach?” he asked. “Dukes have their drivers go without hats, so everybody knows a person of great importance sits inside.”
    “But what if it starts to rain?”
    “What is that to the duke or duchess, as long as everybody knows they are Important Personages?” Richard replied evenly.
    “That doesn’t seem right.”
    “I applaud your benevolence, young Master Longbourne. I hardly think it practical, either. The poor man is likely to take a chill or worse, and good drivers in London are hard to find. Why, even the king’s coach has had mishaps.”
    “It has?”
    “Yes, and the driver was most fortunate that the king is a forgiving man.”
    Richard took note of his wife’s disgruntled expression at his mention of the king and chose to ignore it. He was trying to keep his mind on a subject other than his spouse whileher son was with them. Unfortunately, the jostling of the coach brought his knees in contact with her, or at least her skirts and petticoats. It was a strange sort of half-intimate sensation, and he had to struggle not to imagine how he might proceed if Will were not there.
    “Now, do you see that gentleman hurrying inside that shop?” Richard asked. “He is going for a drink of chocolate, which comes from the New World.”
    “Have you had chocolate?” Will asked