make me proud, Evleen.” She looked toward Lord Thomas. “He’s not a bad sort.”
Evleen shrugged. “I suppose.”
“You’ll be thrown together on this journey. I worry.” Her brow furrowed. “Don’t you be falling in love with Thomas Linberry.”
“I?” Evleen asked skeptically, “fall in love with an Englishman?” She laughed derisively. “I grant you, he’s handsome enough, and rather charming, but he’s English, after all, and I shall never forget what one Englishman did to you and all our family.”
“Good, and if you find yourself attracted to him, remind yourself he possesses neither wealth nor significant title.”
“But find an Englishman who does,” Evleen replied warily. She still could hardly believe what Mama had told her a while ago.
“I meant what I said, Evleen.”
Evleen’s heart wrenched at the thought of leaving Ireland forever, yet if it was what Mama wanted...
“I shall try,” she said over a growing lump in her throat.
Sinead hugged her tight. “Don’t be afraid. If worse comes to worse and all else fails, you can always come home and marry Timothy Murphy.”
Chapter 8
Loughrea... Ballinasloe... Athlone...
The melodious names brought a flood of memories to Evleen as she, Patrick, and Lord Thomas began their trek. It had been nine years since she and her family traveled across Ireland along this very same Dublin-to-Galway Mail Post Road. Not much had changed. The village names might be as beautiful as ever, but the sad irony was, the countryside was still barren, the mud huts along the wayside still among the poorest she had ever seen. I have changed though, she thought wistfully. When she’d left Dublin she’d been a girl of fifteen, full of hope for the future despite the loss of Mama’s fortune. But now...
A flash of wild grief ripped through her. To leave her mother and sisters was bad enough, but Ireland too. Ah, how she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t, not only because of Patrick, but she would not give Himself the satisfaction.
She flicked a glance toward Lord Thomas, having to admit that since they’d been on the road this morning, he had been courteous, kind, and most patient with Patrick, even when the child asked a dozen questions all in a row.
“Lord Thomas, do we get the horses for free?” Patrick was asking now. They were heading for Athlone, having just started down the road again after a stop at a posting station for fresh horses.
“No, we must pay for them,” he answered, his eyes attentive on the narrow, bumpy road ahead as he guided the two bays. Noting the easy, self-confident way he handled the reins, she had to admit he had a ruggedness and vital power about him, and a toughness that could not have been gleaned from leading a dandy’s frivolous life in London. So far on this journey, he had been rather distant, which was as it should be. She didn’t want to get too close. Still, she was curious about the man and couldn’t resist remarking, “You look as if you’ve spent much time with horses.”
He glanced to where she sat on the seat beside him and replied, “I’ve just returned from managing a sugar plantation in Jamaica for three years. I practically lived on the back of a horse.”
“How you must have missed the delights of London.”
“Hardly.” He gave her an odd glance, raising an eyebrow. “I leave the delights of London to my brother.”
Surprising. She wanted to ask more, but Patrick spoke up again. When would he be quiet? “Lord Thomas, how much does it cost for the horses?”
“One shilling six pence a mile, paid for the horses, and six pence to the postboy.
“Why didn’t you hire a coach?”
“There’s only the three of us. A curricle is sufficient.”
Thomas was forced to veer to the side of the narrow road as a coach and four came thundering by, the coachman, whip in hand, riding high and haughty in the seat box atop.
“I think I should like to be a coachman when I grow up,” Patrick announced. “I think it would be great fun. I’d feel like the king of all I surveyed.”
Evleen and Thomas exchanged amused glances. “That's an admirable ambition, Patrick,” Thomas said thoughtfully, “but you had best wait to decide. You might find being a lord and managing a vast estate will take much of your time.”
“Will we get clear to Dublin today?”
“I think not,” Thomas replied patiently. “Tonight we shall stay at an inn in Athlone.”
An inn? Evleen felt definitely uncomfortable at the thought. In all the excitement, and agony