Do you have any curiosity now about who your true kin might be?”
Fancy’s brow pleated, no doubt at his abrupt change of topic. But he had divulged as much as he meant to about that part of his past. That dark time before he became a gentleman.
“Yes and no,” Fancy said slowly. “A part o’ me is curious, but another part thinks it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie. Why would a person abandon a ’elpless babe in a field? The only reason I can think o’ is the obvious.”
“The child was born out of wedlock,” he stated.
She nodded, biting her lip.
“Are you worried about the note your father found?”
“It was written o’er two decades ago.” She knit her brows. “Whatever the trouble was, I don’t see ’ow it could find me now.”
“It seems unlikely,” he agreed. “But if you wish, I could hire an investigator—”
“What would be the point?” she asked with quiet dignity. “I’m ’appy knowing that I’m the daughter o’ Milton and Annie Sheridan. They’re my real parents. I don’t need to know the identity o’ whoe’er threw me away.”
Severin couldn’t argue with her logic. And, practically speaking, an investigator was unlikely to turn up much based on a christening gown and an old note.
The carriage suddenly went over a bump, careening with such force that Fancy soared off the seat. He caught her and held her securely, his other hand gripping the carriage strap while the conveyance came to an unpromising halt.
“Stay here, sweeting.” He opened the door. “I’ll see what’s going on.”
Outside, the rain had slowed to a drizzle, and he trudged through the slick mud to stand next to his driver, Rogers, and valet, Verney, both of whom had descended from the covered driver’s perch to survey the damage.
“Apologies, Your Grace,” Rogers muttered, droplets dripping off the brim of his hat and clinging to his dark whiskers. “I ran into a rock on account o’ the rain. Now one o’ the front wheels is broken.”
Severin examined the wheel. Two of the spokes bore large cracks.
“Can you repair it?” he asked.
“Aye, with the proper tools. And I would need to prop up the cabin.” Rogers looked resigned. “I’d best ride ahead to the next village and bring back ’elp.”
“What ’appened?” Fancy called breathlessly.
Severin turned to see his wife coming up behind them, her braids bouncing against her shoulders as she navigated puddles. She hadn’t even donned a cloak.
Removing his coat, he bundled her in it. “You shouldn’t be out here, chérie. You’ll get soaked.”
Her gaze strayed to the wheel. “I wanted to see if I could ’elp.”
“Rogers will ride ahead to the next village to obtain assistance. Let’s get you back inside—”
Fancy had already gone to examine the wheel. “Mind if I ’ave a look?”
Rogers and the valet exchanged a glance that was just short of eye-rolling, but they stepped aside for their new mistress. Lucky for them because Severin wouldn’t tolerate any disrespect toward his duchess.
“I see cracks in these two spokes.” She ran her fingers over the fissures, heedless of the mud. “Any other damage, Rogers?”
“No, Your Grace,” the driver said.
“Well, there’s no point in you riding to the village and back in this weather. I ’ave something that ought to ’old the wheel together until we get to the village. Verney, would you mind fetching my travelling case? I need my tools.”
The valet slid a questioning look at Severin, who inclined his head. “Do as Her Grace bids.”
Fancy and Verney went to the luggage compartment, and she soon returned with a worn leather bag slung over her shoulder. Verney followed, holding an umbrella over her and a stack of toweling.
Crouching by the wheel, she instructed, “Be sure to keep the umbrella o’er the wheel. It needs to stay dry while I mend it.”
“Yes, Your Grace.” Verney dutifully positioned the umbrella.
Severin watched in fascination as Fancy spread a towel on the ground and took out a large jar from her bag. Using more of the toweling, she proceeded to dry off the wheel in brisk, meticulous motions. When she was done, she reached into her skirts, pulling out a…pocketknife? It was compact, about the length of her hand and half as wide.
“Da gave this to me as a wedding present. It’s one o’ ’is best inventions,” she said proudly. “’E calls it a tinker’s friend because no tinker should be without it. It ’as all the basic tools, and it folds up to save room. ’Ave a look.”