Page 29 of A Midwinter Wager

Chapter 19

It wasa difficult morning for all of them.

Cesca had to hide her dislike of Alicia, Fitz's knuckles whitened every time Brandt smirked at him, and the other revelers were all over-tired, and very worried about whether or not they'd be able to get home safely once their carriage was fixed.

The recent snow lay as yet un-melted and was now crusted with ice. The going would be treacherous. But with a team of four surefooted horses, Fitz’s vehicle could just about manage it. There were, after all, no hills to negotiate between the Oddfellows Inn and Fernley Place.

“We have to try,” Fitz whispered to Cesca as he helped her into his carriage. “If I have to wait another day to ask your father for your hand, I’ll be like a keg of gunpowder in a lightning storm.”

She smiled. She was feeling no less tense herself but was determined not to let Alicia see she was troubled. "I suppose if we founder, we can just turn about and come back here,” she whispered back. Taking her place next to Alicia, Cesca turned her back on her sister and stared out the window. Though the sun was bright, it offered no warmth, and she shivered in apprehension.

It was barely possible to make out the edges of the road—snow had drifted right to the tops of the hedges, and in some places, covered them. She shot Fitz an anxious look as he settled down opposite, but he just smiled at her, filling her with delicious heat from head to toe.

“I’m certain we will be in no difficulty, ladies,” he assured them. “My coachman is very experienced. All the same, you might be wise to hang onto the straps for the duration of the journey.”

"It was most unkind of you not to offer a seat to Captain Brandt,” Alicia grumbled. “Captain Blakeley's carriage is nowhere near as reliable as this one. We'd only be taking Brandt a little bit out of his way, and he could have stayed at Fernley until the next stagecoach is due."

Fitz’s expression didn’t change, but his voice was firm as he said, “I’m no fool, Alicia, whatever you think. I’d never be so stupid as to let you spend any more time with your co-conspirator, a man who hates me. You’ve lost. You may as well accept it.”

“We’ll see,” snapped Alicia, glaring first at him, then at Cesca.

Cesca favored her sister with a look of mild surprise. "Am I right in thinking you've developed a tendre for the captain? If so, then all's well and good—you won't object to Papa making him marry you."

“Marry a captain, when I could have a viscount? You haven’t won yet, Francesca, no matter what you might think.”

Before she could respond, Cesca heard a shout up ahead, and the carriage slowed. Moments later, the window darkened, and a man on horseback was leaning down and touching his hat to them.

Letting down the sash, Fitz frowned up at the interloper, who was carrying a leather tube slung over his shoulder.

"I beg your pardon ladies, sir," the man said. "But I thought I recognized the carriage, and now I see from the crest I'm right, and this is one of the Beaulieu coaches. Would you be Viscount Lonsdale, sir? Also going by the title Major Fitzmaurice?"

“I am.”

"I've a letter for you, sir. The lady was most particular you get it before the regimental reunion at the Assembly Rooms. My apologies, but my horse threw a shoe, and you’d gone before I arrived—I’ve been after you ever since."

Handing Fitz a folded paper, the messenger doffed his hat and removed himself, allowing the dazzling snow-reflected light to enter the carriage once more.

Cesca chewed her lip. Fitz had a letter from a lady? What lady?

Suddenly all her happy certainties were overshadowed by fear. Who was this new player about to take to the stage? Was it another plot of Alicia’s? And why was Fitz looking so uneasy?