Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 165 - Hundred And Sixty Five

The sky over London was a soft, bruised purple, hovering somewhere between night and morning. The street lamps were still flickering, casting long, dancing shadows against the brick walls of the Hamilton mansion.

The house, usually silent at this ungodly hour, was buzzing with activity. It was the break of twilight, but for the Hamilton household, the day had begun hours ago.

The front doors were thrown wide open. A line of footmen moved like ants, carrying trunks, hatboxes, and heavy leather cases down the stone steps.

"Careful with that blue trunk!" Mr. Simmons, the butler, hissed, pointing a gloved finger. "It contains Her Grace’s books. If you drop it, you will have to answer to me."

Ines stood in the center of the courtyard. She was wrapped in a thick traveling cloak of dark green wool, lined with velvet to keep out the morning chill. She held a small muff to warm her hands, though her fingers were cold from nerves, not the weather.

She watched her life being packed away.

"That is the last of the dresses," Edith announced, walking out of the house with a final hatbox tucked under her arm. She looked fresh and ready, wearing a sensible gray traveling dress.

"And my writing equipments?" Ines asked, looking anxious.

"Packed securely in the second carriage, My Lady," Edith assured her with a smile. "Lloyd made sure it was padded so the ink would not spill."

Just then, the sound of hooves clattered against the cobblestones.

Lloyd, Carcel’s aide, came into the courtyard. He was riding on the lead seat of a magnificent black carriage, the ducal crest of Anderson painted in gold on the door. Behind him, a second, slightly smaller carriage followed.

Lloyd pulled on the reins. "Whoa."

The horses stomped and snorted, their breath creating clouds of steam in the cold air.

Lloyd jumped down. He bowed to Ines and Carcel, who was standing by the pillar checking his pocket watch.

"Good morning, Your Grace. Your Grace," Lloyd said efficiently. "We are ready. I have brought two carriages as requested."

He gestured to the shiny black one. "This one is for you and the Duchess."

He pointed to the second one behind it. "The other one is for myself and Edith, and the remaining luggage."

"Excellent, Lloyd," Carcel said. He looked handsome in his heavy riding coat, his boots polished to a shine. He looked at the mountain of luggage that was almost filling the boot of the carriage.

"Is that everything?" Carcel asked, raising an eyebrow at Ines.

Ines blushed. "A Duchess needs many things, Carcel. And... I brought a lot of paper."

Carcel chuckled. "I suspect half of that weight is ink."

The footmen began to load the last of the boxes. They grunted with the effort, strapping the trunks to the roof and stuffing smaller cases under the seats. The carriage carrying Ines’s luggage was almost full.

When the last strap was tightened, silence fell over the courtyard.

It was time.

Rowan stepped out of the front door.

He was not dressed for travel. He was wearing his morning robe over his trousers, and his hair was messy. He looked like a man who had rolled out of bed to say goodbye, but his eyes were wide awake and filled with a quiet sadness.

He walked down the steps. He looked at the carriages. He looked at the horses. Finally, he looked at Ines.

Ines felt a lump form in her throat. This was the house where she had learned to walk. This was the house where she had hidden to write her stories. This was the house where Rowan had become her father, mother, and brother all at once.

She walked toward him. Her feet felt heavy.

"Rowan," she whispered.

Rowan opened his arms.

Ines went to hug Rowan. She buried her face in his chest, smelling the familiar scent of sandalwood and old brandy.

"I will miss you dearly, brother," she said, her voice muffled against his robe.

Rowan hugged her back. He squeezed her tight, lifting her slightly off the ground. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

"I will miss you too, little bird," Rowan said. His voice was rough. " The house will be too quiet without you. Who is going to argue with me about the library budget now?"

Ines let out a watery laugh. She pulled back to look at him.

"You will just have to buy more books yourself," she said.

Rowan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He reached out and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

"Don’t forget to always write and visit too, okay?" Rowan asked seriously. "I don’t want to hear about your life from the gossip columns. I want letters. Long ones."

Ines nodded. "I promise. You will get tired of my letters."

Rowan kissed her forehead. Then, he stepped back. He looked at Carcel.

Carcel walked forward. He extended his hand, but Rowan ignored it. Rowan grabbed Carcel by the shoulders and pulled him into a hug.

Carcel and Rowan hugged each other, patting their backs with the heavy, rhythmic thuds of men who respect each other.

"Safe travels," Rowan said, pulling back but keeping his hands on Carcel’s shoulders. He looked Carcel dead in the eye. "She is your responsibility now. Make her happy."

"Take care of yourselves," Carcel replied. His voice was solemn. "I will guard her with my life, Rowan. You have my word."

Rowan nodded. He looked at the empty courtyard behind them.

"Sure we will," Rowan said, trying to sound cheerful. "Take care of yourself too. Don’t let the country air make you soft."

Carcel smiled. "I’ll write to you when we get to Carleton. I’ll let you know we arrived safely."

Rowan nodded. He took a deep breath and stepped back. He clasped his hands behind his back, trying to look like the stoic head of the house.

"Well," Rowan boomed. "Daylight is burning. You should go."

"Yes," Ines said softly.

Carcel offered Ines his hand. She took it. He led her to the black carriage.

Lloyd held the door open. Carcel helped Ines climb up the metal steps. She settled onto the velvet seat, arranging her green cloak around her. Carcel climbed in beside her and sat down, taking her hand in his.

Lloyd closed the door with a solid thud.

"Ready, Edith?" Lloyd called out to the second carriage.

"Ready!" Edith’s voice came back. She was already seated in the second carriage, waving from the window.

Lloyd climbed up to the driver’s seat of the second carriage, while the Duke’s personal driver snapped the reins of the first one.

"Walk on!" the driver shouted.

Everyone had already gotten into their carriage. The carriage started moving.

The wheels crunched loudly on the gravel. The carriage lurched forward, swaying slightly as it picked up speed.

Ines leaned forward immediately. She rolled down the window. The cold air rushed in, stinging her cheeks, but she didn’t care.

She stuck her head out.

Rowan was standing alone on the steps of the massive house. He looked smaller now as the distance grew. He raised his hand.

Ines waved to Rowan. She waved frantically, her green glove flashing in the dim light.

"Goodbye, Rowan!" she called out, though the wind snatched her words away.

Rowan waved back. He kept waving. He didn’t turn around to go inside. He stood there, a solitary figure against the grand stone pillars.

Ines watched him. She watched the house where she had written Arthur Pendleton. She watched the garden where she had walked alone.

She watched until the carriage turned the corner of the street. She watched until the iron gates obscured the view. She watched until she couldn’t see him again.

She pulled her head back inside and rolled up the window.

She sat back against the seat. A single tear rolled down her cheek.

Carcel didn’t speak. He knew she needed a moment. He simply lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders. He pulled her into his side.

Ines rested her head on his shoulder. She closed her eyes.

"Are you okay?" Carcel asked softly, kissing the top of her head.

"Yes," Ines whispered. "I am just... saying goodbye to the him for the second time."

Carcel squeezed her shoulder.

The carriage picked up speed, the horses’ hooves finding a steady rhythm on the road.