The Fall of Lord Drayson (Tanglewood Book 1) by Rachael Anderson Page A
Authors: Rachael Anderson
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hitch the cart to the horse, purchase some seeds in town, and stop at the Coopers’ on our way home. I am certain Mr. Cooper will lend us his plow for the day.” Lucy paused, rethinking the plan. “And by ‘us’ hitching the cart to the horse, I mean you.”
“Considering I am the coachman, I gathered as much,” he said, thrilled at the prospect of finally having a reason to drive into town. “But I feel the need to point out that if you would like to bring the plow home with us, we will need something larger than a cart.”
She frowned and pursed her lips in thought. After a moment, she brightened and nodded in the direction of the manor house. “Perhaps we might find a wagon in one of those outbuildings.”
“Will they not be locked? Or has the new owner taken up residency already?”
“I don’t believe he ever will,” said Lucy as she tugged a pin from her hair. “But that is of little consequence.”
Collins watched her in confusion. “I am almost afraid to inquire as to what is going through that pretty head of yours.”
She blushed slightly but grinned, holding up the hairpin for his inspection. “Do you recall my youthful friend, Ben? The one who convinced me to bury my toad with a snake?”
“Yes,” he said the word slowly.
“He also instructed me on how to pick locks with a hairpin.”
Collins blinked, staring at her. Good gads, the woman was serious. She could pick a lock, or at least believed she could, and she was contemplating breaking into the outbuilding.
“That is a highly unusual skill set for a vicar’s daughter,” Collins said.
Merriment filled her expression, and she linked her arm through his and began pulling him toward the manor house. “Not to worry, Collins. We are only borrowing the wagon, not stealing it.”
“Why do I find no comfort in that?”
She gave his arm a pat. “Take comfort in this then. If you are anxious about borrowing a wagon from an absentee owner, it is highly unlikely you were a thief in your former life.”
“Just in my new life, it seems,” he muttered, pulling her to a stop. “Before you drag me across the overgrown meadow, might I ask a question?”
“Certainly.”
“How do you propose we remove the wagon from the building without the aid of a horse or two?”
She bit down on her lower lip and glanced back toward the stables. “Drat, you are right. We will need Zeus and Athena, won’t we?”
“Unless you are planning to add ‘horse’ to my list of responsibilities and hitch me to the wagon, then yes.”
Her lips twitched before settling back in a straight line, and she nodded. “Perhaps you can fetch the horses while I pick the lock?”
Was she that frightened of horses that she would not even lead one across a meadow? How a woman as adventurous as she did not wish to learn to ride completely baffled him. Somehow, someway, Collins vowed, he would find a way to get Miss Lucy Beresford on the back of a horse and show her exactly how glorious it felt to ride with the wind.
Collins released her arm and gestured toward the outbuilding. “Very well, Miss Beresford, go ahead and pick your lock. But should we get caught, I ought to warn you that I can play deaf, dumb, and incredibly thick. The constable will have no one to point the finger at but you.”
“Ah,” she said. “So you are an actor then. Tell me, does the name Drury Lane sound familiar? What about Haymarket or Covent Garden? Do you sing, perchance? Opera? I think you should try a few notes so that we might see.”
The girl was incorrigible and, though he hated to admit it, irresistible. He could not help but play along. “I am not an actor nor an opera singer, though apparently I can play the part of a hero rather well.”
“To which heroic acts are you referring?” she asked as her hair whipped about her face.
“Rescuing a damsel in distress, of course.”
“What damsel?”
“You, of course.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I am no damsel in
“Considering I am the coachman, I gathered as much,” he said, thrilled at the prospect of finally having a reason to drive into town. “But I feel the need to point out that if you would like to bring the plow home with us, we will need something larger than a cart.”
She frowned and pursed her lips in thought. After a moment, she brightened and nodded in the direction of the manor house. “Perhaps we might find a wagon in one of those outbuildings.”
“Will they not be locked? Or has the new owner taken up residency already?”
“I don’t believe he ever will,” said Lucy as she tugged a pin from her hair. “But that is of little consequence.”
Collins watched her in confusion. “I am almost afraid to inquire as to what is going through that pretty head of yours.”
She blushed slightly but grinned, holding up the hairpin for his inspection. “Do you recall my youthful friend, Ben? The one who convinced me to bury my toad with a snake?”
“Yes,” he said the word slowly.
“He also instructed me on how to pick locks with a hairpin.”
Collins blinked, staring at her. Good gads, the woman was serious. She could pick a lock, or at least believed she could, and she was contemplating breaking into the outbuilding.
“That is a highly unusual skill set for a vicar’s daughter,” Collins said.
Merriment filled her expression, and she linked her arm through his and began pulling him toward the manor house. “Not to worry, Collins. We are only borrowing the wagon, not stealing it.”
“Why do I find no comfort in that?”
She gave his arm a pat. “Take comfort in this then. If you are anxious about borrowing a wagon from an absentee owner, it is highly unlikely you were a thief in your former life.”
“Just in my new life, it seems,” he muttered, pulling her to a stop. “Before you drag me across the overgrown meadow, might I ask a question?”
“Certainly.”
“How do you propose we remove the wagon from the building without the aid of a horse or two?”
She bit down on her lower lip and glanced back toward the stables. “Drat, you are right. We will need Zeus and Athena, won’t we?”
“Unless you are planning to add ‘horse’ to my list of responsibilities and hitch me to the wagon, then yes.”
Her lips twitched before settling back in a straight line, and she nodded. “Perhaps you can fetch the horses while I pick the lock?”
Was she that frightened of horses that she would not even lead one across a meadow? How a woman as adventurous as she did not wish to learn to ride completely baffled him. Somehow, someway, Collins vowed, he would find a way to get Miss Lucy Beresford on the back of a horse and show her exactly how glorious it felt to ride with the wind.
Collins released her arm and gestured toward the outbuilding. “Very well, Miss Beresford, go ahead and pick your lock. But should we get caught, I ought to warn you that I can play deaf, dumb, and incredibly thick. The constable will have no one to point the finger at but you.”
“Ah,” she said. “So you are an actor then. Tell me, does the name Drury Lane sound familiar? What about Haymarket or Covent Garden? Do you sing, perchance? Opera? I think you should try a few notes so that we might see.”
The girl was incorrigible and, though he hated to admit it, irresistible. He could not help but play along. “I am not an actor nor an opera singer, though apparently I can play the part of a hero rather well.”
“To which heroic acts are you referring?” she asked as her hair whipped about her face.
“Rescuing a damsel in distress, of course.”
“What damsel?”
“You, of course.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I am no damsel in
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