The Road to Gretna Read Online Free PDF

Angus drily.
    “Oh. I suppose he must be.” Penny paused in momentary disillusionment, then asked, “Do we stop at the Falcon?”
    “That is where I told the postilion to go.” Angus appeared less than pleased at the prospect of encountering Henrietta and Lord Kilmore again.
    Penny looked forward to it, and hoped that they would meet often on the road. It was not likely, she realized. Travelling fast with their four horses, the others had caught up. Next they would overtake and then they’d not be seen again.
    She wondered whether to try to persuade Angus to hire a team of four, but she was not sure that they could be harnessed to their chariot. Finding a new vehicle to hire would take time and cost money, and four horses, with the requisite second postilion, cost twice as much as two. Even with the rolls of sovereigns concealed in her portmanteau, her purse was not bottomless. She had not reckoned on the extra expense of a room and meals for Mrs. Ratchett. Penny resigned herself to merely continuing to insist on paying a little extra for good horses.
    Sighing, she gazed through the window, watching for Lord Kilmore’s carriage. The road was busy now, with gigs and curricles, stage coaches, carriers’ carts, and riders. A mail coach swept by them with a warning blast of the guard’s tin horn, the passengers on the roof hanging on to the rail for dear life.
    And then the maroon and gold of the baron’s vehicle edged past, Henrietta waving excitedly at the window. Penny gave her a half-hearted wave in return.
    When they reached Huntmgdon a short while later, the maroon carriage was standing at the Falcon. Lord Kilmore stood nearby, examining with a critical eye the two pairs beings harnessed by the ostlers. Penny followed Angus down from the chariot as the baron raised his hat in greeting.
    “What a delightful surprise to meet you here, my lord,” Penny responded, smiling.
    Angus merely nodded briefly before addressing the nearest ostler, promising a good tip for the inn’s best horses.
    The man shrugged. “His lordship here’s took the best. There’s not much to choose atween the rest. Try the George if you be in a hurry.”
    “I could step across and ask what they have available,” Angus suggested to Penny, without enthusiasm.
    She dithered, feeling that another delay would make her scream. Uncle Vaughn and Bartholomew must be well on their way back to London from Hampshire by now. Would it be quicker to try the George or just to accept what the Falcon had to offer?
    “How long is the next stage?” she asked.
    “‘Tis a matter o’ fourteen mile to Stilton,” the ostler told her, “or fifteen to Norman Cross.”
    Lord Kilmore intervened. “Miss Bry—Cox, I refuse to be responsible for hindering your fli—journey. Pray avail yourself of a pair of these fiery steeds. Osler, unhitch the leaders,” he ordered.
    “If you says so, my lord.” Shaking his head at the peculiar ways of the nobility, the man and his mate started to unbuckle the harness.
    “You are generous, sir,” said Angus unwillingly.
    “Most generous,” Penny exclaimed. “But I cannot like to be responsible for hindering your fli—journey.”
    “No matter, ma’am. Henrietta and her maid have taken that dratted kitten into the garden behind the inn and there’s no saying how long she will dally. I cannot claim to be in as much of a hurry as I fancy you are.”
    “Yes, I am anxious to travel as fast as possible,” she admitted as Angus turned away to supervise the harnessing. “And I know that Henrietta has not the least notion of the passage of time.” His teasing look reminded her that she had told him so once before. She felt her cheeks grow pink. “You may have to wait a long time if the garden is as pleasant as the inn looks,” she added, gesturing airily at the oriel windows.
    “It is an interesting building, is it not? It was Oliver Cromwell’s headquarters for a time during the Civil War. He was born in Huntingdon.