stables next door. He found a groom and asked for the horse to be put up for the night, giving the man ample coin to see to its care and asking that the groom return the horse in the morning to Windowmere.
“I’d be happy to do so, my lord.”
“Thank you.”
With that, Weston walked through the city and continued south.
Chapter Four
Briarcliff, Devon
Elise opened her eyes and inhaled slowly, enjoying the silence surrounding her. Claire, her daughter, snuggled close beside her. The girl had her mother’s rich brown hair and violet eyes and Elise supposed she had looked much like Claire did when she was the same age. She would have asked her parents but they had never seen their granddaughter, despite the fact that Shedwell was only fifty miles from Briarcliff. They—meaning her mother—had washed her hands of Elise the day of her wedding to Lord Ruthersby. Though she had written to both her mother and father several times, Lady Shelby had finally replied that they were too busy with their new lives, now that they had raised their daughter. She was now Ruthersby’s responsibility. Not theirs.
That was the last piece of correspondence Elise had received from her mother, a woman too vain to admit she was old enough to have a married daughter, much less that the daughter had also given birth to a child. In it, Lady Shelby had told Elise not to write again unless it was grave news. A birth. A death. Nothing in-between needed to be spoken of. The harsh words on the page still haunted her.
Her father continued to write her, however, though he asked her to direct any letters to him to their local clergyman, who’d see them delivered directly to Shelby’s hand when they met once a week. She could never understand why her mother controlled every aspect of the relationship between her and her husband. Once, her father had briefly spoken of how Mama was the most beautiful girl to make her come-out that year and how surprised he’d been when she chose him to be the suitor she would marry. It was as if Papa spent every day on his knees, grateful to have wed Mama, and did her bidding in everything.
Mama loved wearing pretty gowns and being told how beautiful she was. She only became practical when it came to telling Elise what to do. At least she didn’t have to suffer those lectures anymore. Not that her life was any better at Briarcliff. Oh, it had been ideal for two and a half years. Norwood Blakeney had been a dear husband, very considerate and thoughtful. They’d conversed on many topics and he’d been delighted when she found herself with child shortly after their wedding. Claire had been born a year after their marriage and was the light of their lives.
Then the accident had occurred. Norwood had been at his club, which was very close to their London townhouse, so close that he enjoyed walking to and from it every day they were in town. He had told Elise that he would stop on his way home and purchase a new book for Claire. Elise had spent that afternoon at the modiste, being measured for new gowns for the upcoming Season. When she arrived home, she went to wake Claire from her nap, knowing Norwood would be home soon for tea. The three of them would sit with Claire between them and read together.
Instead, a doctor arrived with the awful news that a carriage accident had occurred. A Lord Borwick and his young son had been killed, along with Norwood. The doctor had been passing by the scene and rendered aid as best he could but he wasn’t able to save anyone. He had given Elise the book of nursery rhymes that was found next to her husband. She read from it every night before she tucked Claire into bed, always telling her daughter stories about how kind her papa had been and how much he loved his little girl.
When Elise fainted after the funeral, a doctor was sent for. He determined that she was with child. Norwood’s younger brother had been most displeased. He’d already moved his family into the London townhouse and claimed the title. With the possibility of Elise carrying Norwood’s heir, they had to wait until the birth to see who the true Earl of Ruthersby would be. She had delivered a boy, whom she named after the child who’d perished in the carriage accident, learning