Oliver huffed. “It wasn’t as if she told me that she was leaving for Whitstable.”
“This is entirely different,” Baldwin argued, “especially since there is a chance you might not return from your assignment.”
“Thank you for the vote of confidence,” Oliver remarked dryly.
“Every time we accept an assignment, we know there are inherent risks associated with it,” Baldwin pressed.
“This is what I have been waiting for,” Oliver said. “A chance to prove that I am capable of so much more than just spying on members of Society.”
“Why do you always downplay the importance of your assignment?” Baldwin asked. “Because of you, Corbyn has compiled a list of gentlemen who have radical views.”
“It is hardly dangerous.”
“Not all spying is,” Baldwin remarked. “Most of the time we lay in wait for our opponents to make a move.”
Abruptly rising, Oliver picked up his glass and walked over to the drink cart. “I suppose I can travel to Whitstable and inform Emmeline that I will be leaving for an undisclosed amount of time.”
“How romantic,” Baldwin muttered.
“What else would you have me say?” Oliver asked as he poured himself a drink. “Would you have me lie to her about when I plan to return?”
“Heavens, no.”
“Then I shall tell her the truth.” He winced as he brought the glass up to his lips. “Or at least the partial truth.”
“I just feel—”
Oliver cut him off. “You have no say in my decision,” he declared. “It is mine, and mine alone.”
Baldwin walked around his desk and sat down. As he reached for a ledger, he said, “If you do decide to take the assignment, rest assured that I will ensure Emmeline is well taken care of while you are gone.”
“Thank you,” Oliver said. “That does provide me with much relief.”
“It would be my privilege.”
Oliver placed his glass onto the drink cart. “I suppose I should inform Pratt that I intend to travel to Whitstable tomorrow.”
“Will you ride your horse or take the coach?”
“I intend to ride, but a coach will need to follow with my trunks,” Oliver responded.
Baldwin gave him a curious look. “How long do you plan to stay in Whitstable?”
“I’m not sure, but long enough for me to convince Emmeline to return to Hawthorne House.”
“I wish you luck,” Baldwin said as he opened a ledger.
“I do not require luck.” Oliver walked over to the door and opened it. “Emmeline is a rational young woman. I have no doubt she will succumb to my reasons for returning home.”
After he departed from the room, Oliver hoped there was some truth behind the words that he had just spoken.
Chapter Fourteen
Emmeline raced her horse along the cliffs near her manor as she reveled in the air blowing on her face. She felt at peace at Lockhart Manor, as if she somehow had always belonged here. A smile burst forth on her lips as she reined in her horse and watched the water sparkle as the morning sun reflected off the waves.
She had been at Lockhart Manor for four days now, and she wasn’t sure when she planned to return to Hawthorne House. Frankly, she didn’t want to leave. At least, not yet. She wanted to continue to relish in the freedom that was afforded to her here. Not only was she the mistress of the manor, but the villagers had been very welcoming when she had visited their shops.
A twinge of sadness came into her heart at leaving Oliver behind, but that was to be expected. She cared about him deeply, but he hadn’t even bothered to see her off from Hawthorne House. It mattered not, she told herself. Eventually, she would have to accept her husband’s errant ways but, for now, she would not dwell on such unpleasant things.
Turning her horse towards Lockhart Manor, Emmeline kicked it into a run. It wasn’t long before she arrived at the stable. In a swift motion, she effortlessly dismounted and reached for the reins.
The young groom approached her and placed his hand out to collect her horse. “I have never seen a lady ride quite like you before, milady.”
“And how is that?”
“Fearless,” the groom replied.
Emmeline ran her hand down the neck of the brown gelding. “I suppose this horse brings it out of me.”
“Survivor is a fine horse.”
“Survivor?” she repeated back. “May I ask who named him?”
The groom smiled at the horse as it tossed its head back. “When Survivor was born, he wasn’t breathing, and everyone thought he was stillborn. But, according to the grooms that were present, Survivor opened his eyes, rose on shaky legs, and has been running ever since.”
“That is remarkable.”
“It is, especially since the mother had lost her previous foal within a few days of birth.”
“How terrible.”
The groom nodded his agreement. “That is why the lead groom named the gelding Survivor.”
Emmeline smiled as she stepped back. “It sounds like a fitting name to me, then.”
As the horse was being led away, Emmeline exited the stable and walked towards the manor. She entered through the servant’s entrance and saw the cook stirring something over the hearth.
Speaking over her shoulder, Mrs. Davies asked, “Did you have a nice ride, milady?”
“I did.”
“I prepared the basket that you requested for Mrs. Thompson,” Mrs. Davies informed her. “It is on the counter.”
Emmeline walked over to the basket with a white linen cloth draped over the top. “I am sure Mrs. Thompson will be pleased with our offering,” she said, “especially since I have yet to sample anything from you that hasn’t been perfection.”
Mrs. Davies turned from the hearth and wiped her hands on her white apron. “You are very kind, milady.”
“I am only speaking the truth.”
“I think it is generous of you to deliver food to Mrs. Thompson,” Mrs. Davies remarked. “She has had quite the go of it since her husband passed away a few weeks ago.”
“When Mr. Lawson asked me to deliver a basket to her, I knew it was a request I simply couldn’t refuse,” Emmeline admitted.
“We are blessed to have a vicar of
