felt exactly like The Countess of Liverpool as the ship rocked and beat itself against the heavy sea. Evleen hadn’t got sick again, though, and they’d moved along at a fine pace.
After a change of horses at Shrewsbury, Lord Thomas planned to continue on in the hired post-chaise. Patrick had a better idea, though. He had been watching when one of the crack “flying machines” came rolling grandly into the posting station, announced by the guard riding atop sounding his horn. Before the coach had even come to a full stop, the passenger sitting next to the coachman had unbuckled the ends of the leads and wheel reins. The coach still moving, the guard got down and ran forward to unhook the near leader's outside trace, and then draw the lead rein through the terrets. Next, he changed the near horse and finished by running the near lead rein while the horsekeeper on the offside unhooked the remaining lead traces, uncoupled the wheel horses, and changed the offside horses.
“All done in but two minutes,” Lord Thomas said with approval as the coachman finished changing the leaders.
Patrick had watched in awe. “Can‘t we ride in the Mail coach, Lord Thomas?” he cried, round-eyed with excitement. “I’d like to sit next to the coachman and be the one to unbuckle the ends of the leads and the wheel reins.”
Lord Thomas cast a fond glance at Patrick. Evleen could tell he had thoroughly enjoyed seeing the child so full of awe at the swift and exciting change of horses. There was nothing this exciting in County Clare, and, in fact, she, too, was fascinated by the clattering hoofs, clanging of bugles, slamming of doors and stamping of feet on splash boards, and through all this din the raucous voice of the ostler continually sounding, like the cry of a medieval herald with a cold in his nose.
Lord Thomas ruffled the boy’s hair. “I know exactly what you mean, Patrick. I doubt there’s a man among us, no matter what his rank, who wouldn’t have a go at being a coachman.”
“Really?” she asked. “I would have thought a nobleman such as you would be above such things.”
“‘Noble’ is a term I abhor,” Thomas answered, to her surprise somewhat vehemently. “I am not noble, I am a second son. Even if I were the first son, I would never consider myself a cut above the rest simply because I owned a fancy title. Nor would I be wasting my life indulging in debauchery. I would never—” He seemed to catch himself, making her wonder if he was about to mention Patrick’s father as a shining example of debauchery, but realizing the boy’s presence, thought better of it. “Suffice to say, Miss O’Fallon, I live by my own rules, not society’s. Long ago, I stopped caring what other people think.”
She answered a bland “Indeed,” covering her sudden admiration. He seemed sincere. Could it be not all Englishmen were alike? She had never thought about it, but perhaps they weren’t all scoundrels like Randall.
Thomas looked at her inquiringly. “Well? Shall we take the mail coach?”
“Why not? I’d like it, too.”
The warmth of his smile echoed in his voice as he replied, “You’re a woman after my own heart.”
“Good show,” cried Patrick, his eyes sparkling with excitement. Evleen gave Lord Thomas a grateful glance. How kind and thoughtful of him. Surely a man of his high station would not enjoy riding with the riffraff in a public coach, and yet, on second thought, she supposed he would. His eyes, too, had been full of excitement when he’d seen that flying machine.
Daventy . . Dunstable . . St. Albans... The trip was as thrilling as Patrick expected it would be. Evleen enjoyed every moment, despite being crammed in a coach with strangers. Also, like Patrick, she loved the grandeur and elegance of the inns where they stopped to eat, as well as the excitement of the stops at all the chief posting stations. And like Patrick, she openly expressed her enthusiasm at the sight of the splendid horses, as well as all the crack flying machines that came in many different shapes and sizes, their doors emblazoned with the names of the places where they started and the places they would end.
And always, she sensed Lord Thomas’ attention upon her. More than once, she caught him regarding her with warmth and amusement in his eyes.
“I suppose you don’t think I’m being ladylike,” she said once, when she and Patrick