“Ah, but there is,” he answered enigmatically and turned to make his way to his room.
* * *
Felicia stopped by her room, took up her hat, and then made her way downstairs and arranged for a breakfast to be taken to Scott. She then had a quick cup of coffee and swallowed a sweet bun nearly whole while standing.
She needed some fresh air and perhaps a ride?
Guilt swept through her as she thought of Ashton asking her to trust him. She was keeping things from him, which in her mind was the same thing as lying. He had been all that was good and kind, and she had given him only half-truths in return. It was very wrong of her.
Perhaps it was time to come clean and tell him the whole—tell him who she was, who her guardian was. Perhaps? She would take a ride to clear the cobwebs in her head and try to make a good decision.
She made her way to the livery of the inn, sighing happily because the morning was gloriously perfect for a little exercise with her horse.
She smiled at the stable hand, a neatly dressed young man of no more than fourteen or fifteen years who rushed towards her.
“Aye then, will ye be wanting yer saddle, miss?” he asked politely.
Felicia thanked him, and between them they had her neat bay gelding, Whiley, tacked up. She led Whiley outdoors and used the mounting block to hoist herself up easily into the saddle.
Walking her horse slowly towards a bridle path at the left of the stables, she wanted to throw her arms out and drink in the beauty of the fresh, cool air. Thank goodness, Scott would be fine. Thank goodness, she wouldn’t have to face her horrible guardian and might make the next six weeks safely out of his grasp. Thank goodness.
Smiling, she put Whiley into a trot but slowed him back to a walk as the trail narrowed and became cluttered with exposed roots.
It was as she took stock of her surroundings, for she had taken a branch of the trail that looked wider than the one she had been on, that Whiley took a misstep and then another.
“Oh no … Whiley, what is this?” she exclaimed. She jumped out of her saddle at once, removed her glove, and ran her hand down his leg looking for heat.
She didn’t find any swelling or heat, so she picked up his hoof and found the problem. He had lost a shoe.
Sighing, she patted his neck. “Right then, dashed uncomfortable, isn’t it, old boy … walking about with a shoe missing. We’ll get you back and see to it.”
It was then, all at once, that the sound of a man’s voice caught her attention. Felicia instinctively, worriedly looked about herself. She could see nothing.
She tethered Whiley and walked through the thick woods towards the sound of a gruff voice who seemed to be in the heat of anger and debasing someone who had displeased him. That someone, from the sound of her crying, was a young woman!
Concerned but cautious, Felicia kept low, glad she was wearing black as she weaved between the thick evergreens.
She came to a complete halt and could just make out the form of a burly man as he raised his hand and brought it down across the young woman’s face, slapping her viciously.
Felicia started forward but then stopped herself. She hadn’t even her little ladies pistol with her. What a dolt, she thought herself, leaving without it yesterday.
“See what yer crying gets ye! If ye fuss loikes that any longer, oi’ll ’ave no choice but to dim yer lights completely, and ye won’t be loiking that none, no, ye won’t.”
She heard the sound of wheels hitting stone. Looking past the rough individual, she realized he wasn’t in just a clearing but a dirt road, and a wagon was being driven in his direction.
What was going on here?
The scoundrel took the arm of the young woman, and Felicia saw that while the woman’s clothes were now soiled, they had been quite fashionable before their ill use.
She then saw the girl’s distressed face, the welt across her cheek, and closed her eyes. She had to do something. She simply had to do something to help the young woman.
But what could she do? Keep them in her sights … follow them and then go for help. That’s what.
“Well, it’s about toime!” the rough blackguard told the driver of the wagon.
She heard a couple of other male voices, all of them sounding disgruntled as they spoke at once and apparently in accord before their apparent leader shouted for silence. “Enough! Oi’ll not have ye grumbling at me. We haven’t the toime for that.”
Dreadful men, Felicia told herself. Something nefarious was going on here, but what? Who was that poor woman?