A Scandal By Any Other Name-Chapter 143 - Hundred And Forty Three

They had gone a great distance when the sun rose fully over the English countryside. The morning mist burned away, revealing rolling green hills and long stretches of dirt road.

Inside the enclosed cabin of the carriage, the air was warm and quiet. Delaney was wide awake. She sat by the window, watching the trees pass by in a blur of green and brown. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. Opposite her, Rowan was reading. He held a thick, leather-bound book of estate laws, his long legs stretched out as far as the small space would allow.

For the first few hours, the only sound was the steady, rhythmic clopping of the horses’ hooves. But as the morning turned into afternoon, the small confines of the carriage began to test their patience.

It started with a simple disagreement over the map.

"You told the driver to take the eastern fork," Delaney pointed out, breaking the long silence. She nodded toward the window. "But the sun is currently on our right. We are heading south, Your Grace."

Rowan slowly lowered his book. He marked his page with a long finger and looked at her. His eyes were calm, but there was a distinct spark of challenge in them.

"I am well aware of our direction, Miss Kingsley," Rowan replied smoothly. "The eastern fork eventually curves south to avoid the flooded marshes near Riverton. It is the faster route."

"It adds an extra ten miles to the journey," Delaney argued, sitting up a little straighter. "If we had taken the western road, we would be much closer to the village by now."

"The western road is full of deep ruts from the timber wagons," Rowan countered. "It would have shaken our teeth loose. I prefer a smooth ride."

"You prefer to be right," Delaney teased, crossing her arms over her dark gray traveling dress. "You are the most stubborn man I have ever met."

Rowan smiled. It was a slow, confident, and entirely aristocratic smile.

"I am a Duke," Rowan said simply, as if that explained everything. "Stubbornness is practically a requirement of the title. And I assure you, my navigation is flawless."

"We shall see," Delaney muttered, looking back out the window.

They had some arguments and bickering on the way. They debated the route, they debated the weather, and they even debated the proper way to brew a pot of tea. But in the end, neither won.

Just an hour later, the carriage rolled past a stone marker that proved Rowan’s chosen road was indeed the most direct path to their destination.

Rowan tapped the window glass, pointing at the stone marker with a triumphant grin. Delaney simply rolled her hazel eyes and offered him a reluctant, amused smile.

However, Rowan’s victory was very short-lived.

Suddenly, a loud, sharp crack echoed through the air. The heavy carriage gave a violent jolt. Delaney gasped, grabbing the leather hand strap as the carriage swerved slightly to the left and ground to a sudden, bumpy halt.

"Whoa! Steady there!" the driver shouted from the box above.

Rowan sighed heavily. He set his book down on the velvet cushion, opened the carriage door, and stepped out into the dirt road.

Delaney quickly followed him, eager to stretch her legs.

The carriage broke down.

The driver was standing near the front left wheel, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. "It is the harness, Your Grace," the driver explained, pointing to the horses. "The main leather trace strap snapped clean in two. The leather must have been worn thin. We cannot pull the carriage evenly without it."

Rowan frowned, inspecting the broken piece of thick leather. "Can it be tied?"

"No, Your Grace," the driver replied sadly. "It is too thick to knot, and too short to reach the buckle now. We might be stranded here until a passing wagon can lend us some rope." 𝗳𝗿𝐞𝕖𝘄𝗲𝕓𝗻𝚘𝚟𝕖𝐥.𝚌𝕠𝕞

Delaney did not panic. She walked forward and looked at the broken strap. She analyzed the problem with the same sharp mind she used to organize seating charts for a hundred guests.

She assisted in looking for a solution.

Delaney turned and walked toward the back of the carriage, where the heavy luggage was strapped into place. She pointed to a thick, long leather strap that was currently securing one of Rowan’s smaller travel trunks.

"Use that," Delaney suggested, looking at Rowan. "If we unbuckle the strap from the trunk, we can use it to bind the broken harness together. The trunk is wedged tightly between the others; it will not fall off if we drive carefully."

Rowan looked at the luggage strap, then at the broken harness. His eyes widened slightly in realization. It was a perfectly simple, brilliant solution.

Rowan smiled at her. "You are incredibly resourceful, Miss Kingsley."

Together, Rowan and the driver unbuckled the strap from the trunk. Rowan did not mind getting his hands dirty. He helped the driver bind the broken pieces of the harness tightly together, wrapping the new leather around the old until it was secure.

Within twenty minutes, the problem was fixed, and they continued their journey.

But the delay had cost them valuable daylight. The sun slowly dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of purple and dark blue. It was already evening, and the air grew bitterly cold. They needed a place to stay for the night.

The driver steered the tired horses toward the glowing yellow lights of a small, rustic village. He drove them to an inn that sat right on the edge of the main road. The wooden sign swinging above the door read The Boar and Crown.

Rowan and Delaney stepped out of the carriage. They walked into the warm, busy parlor of the inn. The room smelled of roasted meat, stale ale, and wood smoke.

The innkeeper, a short, round man with a friendly face and a dirty white apron, hurried out from behind the wooden counter. He wiped his hands on a towel.

"Welcome, welcome to The Boar and Crown!" the innkeeper greeted them cheerfully. He took in Rowan’s fine, expensive greatcoat and instantly recognized that he was dealing with quality guests. "How may I serve you this evening, sir?"

Delaney stepped forward, taking charge of the practical matters.

"We require lodging," Delaney asked politely. "Two rooms, please. With fresh water and a fire, if you have them."

The innkeeper smiled and opened his large, leather-bound log book. He ran his thick finger down the page.

Suddenly, his smile faded. He looked up at Delaney with a deep, apologetic frown.

"I am terribly sorry, miss," the innkeeper said, scratching his head. "But I only have one room left."

Delaney frowned. "Only one? Surely you have another small room in the back?"

The innkeeper checked his log book again and shook his head. He realized it’s only one room.

"I truly wish I did, miss," the innkeeper explained. "But there is a massive cattle fair in the next town over starting tomorrow morning. Every merchant, farmer, and drover from the northern counties has stopped here for the night. My inn is packed to the rafters. I only have one private chamber left at the top of the stairs."

Delaney nodded slowly. It was highly improper for an unmarried man and woman to share a single bedchamber throughout the night. If anyone from London society ever found out...

"I see," Delaney said. "Thank you for your time."

She turned around and was about to go back to the carriage to find another inn. There had to be another village a few miles down the road.

But just as she reached for the iron handle of the front door, a loud, violent crack of thunder shook the wooden floorboards of the inn.

It started to rain.