Skylark by Jo Beverley Page B

decorous pace.
    Mrs. Moorside and Rimmer, the butler, were waiting to bid her farewell. She went first with Harry to Lord Caldfort.
    If she needed proof that Lord Caldfort was not his usual self, she found it. He seemed paler and weary, as if weighed down by something. Or as if he’d not slept. Hardly surprising if he thought he was about to lose everything.
    Or, she wondered, is he burdened by the decision? Is he thinking of paying Farouk to remove the problem?
    He kissed Harry’s forehead, holding him too close. Harry squirmed as he always did, and Laura didn’t blame him. His grandfather smelled of snuff and camphor at the best of times, and today he smelled worse. Sour.
    She did feel sorry for the old man. However he was thinking about it, Azir’s letter must have been a shock, and it laid a terrible burden on him.
    “You enjoy a good long holiday,” Lord Caldfort said again to Laura as he let Harry escape. “No need to hurry back. Lad’s too young to be learning estate management yet, you know.”
    Just how far would this stretch? “My sister Juliet is at Merrymead at the moment, sir. Perhaps I might travel back to London with her.”
    She saw the struggle, but then he said, “Good idea, good idea. Just for a few weeks, though.”
    Why had that letter caused this peculiar behavior? If they found Henry Gardeyne’s legitimate son, perhaps it would be a kindness to the old man, as well. His dilemma would be over and it might be possible for him to live out his life here.
    She and Harry said farewell to the senior staff, then went outside. Laura sucked in the crisp autumn air as if it were freedom itself and let Harry run down ahead to the horses. He knew not to go too close.
    The four horses looked fresh and healthy, jingling the traces as they shifted, ready to be off. The last trunk was being loaded into the boot, and in a moment the lid was slammed shut.
    Stephen was already there, but a handsome bay horse was saddled and waiting for him. How were they to talk if he was riding? Mind you, how were they to talk with an excited Harry along?
    Laura remembered that he hadn’t met Harry and collected her son. “Come and make your bow to Sir Stephen, Harry. He’s an old friend of mine who’s going to travel with us a little way.”
    Stephen came to meet them halfway. Harry did bow and say, “Pleased to meet you, sir,” in proper manner, but then added, “May I ride with you, sir?”
    Stephen looked startled and Laura said, “He must remember doing that with Hal. No, Harry, not today. When we get to Merrymead, your grandfather and Uncle Ned will take you riding.”
    “May I get in the coach, Mama?”
    “Of course. Off you go.”
    He raced to the coach as if speed would make the journey start sooner.
    “A charming lad,” Stephen said.
    “Yes, but the next two days will take fortitude.”
    “No nursemaid?”
    “I never take her. She’s not needed at Merrymead. How far can you come with us?”
    She meant, When can we talk?
    “To Andover.”
    About twenty miles and two changes. It would do.
    Harry was hanging out of the carriage and calling for her to hurry, so she did. She was as keen to be away as he. Nan took a tearful farewell, Stephen mounted, and they were off.
    Laura looked back at Caldfort House as long as she could, but that was only for the relief she felt when it finally slid out of sight with no sign of Jack Gardeyne in hot pursuit. Harry was now safe.

Chapter 13
    The novelty of the carriage and the passing scenery held Harry’s interest for quite some time, and then the changing of the horses at the first stage fascinated him. Laura let down the window so he could lean out and watch.
    Stephen rode over to chat, but this stop would be too brief for much. “All went well, I assume?” he asked.
    “Yes, though Lord Caldfort is definitely in a strange state of mind.” Laura kept a grip on the back of Harry’s jacket as he leaned out, and spoke softly. As they say, little pitchers have big