“Drive on,” he called, and when the wagon rumbled off he began walking toward his old home. Carriages, even wagons, forced a cold sweat to break out over his skin. Walking was much better for his disposition. He was already dreading the drive to the soiree tomorrow night as he would be expected to sit inside a closed carriage. He hoped he could tolerate the cramped quarters without revealing his distress.
After perhaps a mile, Blythe turned on the seat, her eyes wide as she peered at him through the rising dust. He raised his hand and continued to enjoy the pleasant amble along the lane. The house was not far now,
just over the next rise after the creek crossing. Despite the situation, he was eager to get there. At least he was on home soil at Harrowdale. He belonged there better than anywhere he’d ever been.
The wagon rumbled to a stop and Blythe jumped down. She shook out her skirts and by the time he reached the wagon, she’d ordered the groom to continue on without her.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing?”
She fiddled with the ribbons on her bonnet and removed it. “The wagon was not comfortable and I would rather walk than endure it.”
He glanced at the wagon and was rewarded with the housekeeper waving to him. So much for the chaperone. “Must you be so difficult about everything? The hard bench of the wagon will seem like nothing once you have a muddy hem slapping round your ankles. There’s a stream to cross shortly before we reach the house.”
Her brow scrunched as if she hadn’t known about the crossing when she’d jumped down. “I’ll be fine,” she muttered.
If she wanted sore feet then so be it, but at the crossing he’d toss her back up on the wagon again. “A fastidious lady like you? Water and likely mud up to your ankles? Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll hate every moment.”
“Hmm, well, you may be right about that.” Her hands fluttered and then clenched at her waist. “Are you sure your brother will not object to our arrangement?”
“I don’t plan to tell him. Besides, we spoke this morning about Harrowdale.” Tobias tucked his hands behind his back. “It will be my home soon.”
Ten
Blythe stumbled as her foot landed in a pothole in the lane. However, before she could fall, Tobias caught her against his side and kept her steady. “Thank you,” she said quickly. But she couldn’t bury her astonishment enough to not want answers from Tobias about his future plans. “When did you decide to leave Romsey?”
Tobias stared ahead, his expression serious. “I spoke to my brother about the matter this morning, but I’ve been considering my future accommodations for some time.”
He had? “But why?”
He looked at her as if she were mad to question the decision. “We both know I do not belong as part of the duchess’ circle. Moving to Harrowdale keeps me close enough to see my brother often, but far enough away not to be a daily embarrassment. You of all people should be happy about that.”
Well, she didn’t know if happy was the correct word, but his presence at Romsey Abbey, and their recent interactions, had caused her some distress. “You will cause a stir if you cannot keep your every thought from tumbling from your mouth.”
Tobias laughed at her observation. “Exactly. I have no wish to cause problems for anyone. I should like to live here again.” His arm lifted to point ahead.
Blythe shifted her attention as the wagon rolled through the stream and started up the curve of a long hill. In the distance, she could see a chimney and spire of a tall building perched on the other side of the rise. There was an untamed beauty about the landscape that reminded her very much of the man walking beside her. Tobias Randall belonged here amid the lush woods rather than stuck inside Romsey. Watching him prowl the abbey was akin to watching a trapped animal with no hope of escape.
“Devil take it,” Tobias cursed suddenly.
Blythe jumped and looked about her. What had happened while she’d been day dreaming? “Whatever is the matter now?”
He scowled at her, and gestured to the empty lane. “Your groom didn’t stop at the crossing to wait for you.”
“Oh, was that all?” She winced. “I did tell him I would walk the rest of the way.”
Tobias shook his head. “Do you realize I’m going to have to carry you across the damn stream?”
Oh, heavens. That likelihood had not occurred to her. There was a shallow crossing she remembered belatedly. Last time she passed this way on horseback, it had been ankle deep and hadn’t caused any concern for her mount. Surely, it should only take a moment to help her across. If anyone was nearby, they would understand he was merely being gallant. She glanced about nervously, but they were completely alone now. Only the distant song of a thrush kept them company.
Tobias stopped at the edge of the water, his hands on his hips. Blythe joined him with a sinking heart. The stream was running perhaps as high as her knees this time, but much more swiftly. She didn’t care for the idea of walking the rest of the way to Harrowdale in damp shoes and heavy wet skirts so she may have no choice but to allow him to carry her across.
She knelt to test the temperature of the water with one hand. Cold. She flicked the water from her fingertips as she stood again. “I do hate to inconvenience you.”
Tobias wrapped his hand around her upper arm and tugged. “Come here, B.”
Blythe had just enough time to gasp as Tobias hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of produce. “What are you doing? Put me down.”
“Keeping you dry. It’s deeper than it looks.” He slapped his hand over her thighs to hold her steady, and waded across the stream while she seethed. Water churned around his legs, higher than Blythe had anticipated. She clung to his back when he wobbled on a rock, but eventually they reached the other side without either of them being pitched into the cold stream.