Free A Woman of Passion by Virginia Henley Page B

Zouche did not get too close, and her face was set in a rigid mask of determination. “Master Barlow, I am thankful your fever has been cured, but Dr. Belgrave believes you should be home with your family in Derbyshire.” She withdrew a letter from her pocket. “I have written to your mother explaining to her that you are returning home. I will send you by my own coach, and I will ask Bess to accompany you.”
    The look on Robert's face turned to relief; the look on Bess's face was pure astonishment. She realized she should have seen it coming, but she hadn't. Who else was there to nurse the semi-invalid and see that he arrived home alive? Bess saw that Lady Zouche was awaiting her compliance. One part of her selfishly wanted to refuse. When William Cavendish returned to London, Bess wanted to be here to welcome him. A glance at RobertBarlow's face melted her hard heart. “I will accompany Master Barlow, my lady.”
    “Good, good. I've arranged for you to start out tomorrow. Bess will soon have your belongings packed up.” Lady Margaret dismissed him from her thoughts and turned to Bess. “It will give you a chance to visit with your family, but then you must come straight back to me. By that time Christmas will be only a month away, and you know the preparations that will entail.”
    Bess smiled, relieved that Lady Zouche found her services indispensable. “Oh, indeed I do, Lady Margaret.”
    Before she began packing, Bess dashed off a note to her family in Derbyshire, telling them she was accompanying Robert Barlow home because of his ill health. The post would arrive at least a day before she would, giving them notice of her impending arrival. Bess wanted to write to Cavendish, but she had no address for him. She knew that Lady Frances Grey would pass a letter to him but decided against it in case Lady Zouche found out she was writing to Cavendish and dismissed her. If luck was with her, Bess could be back in London by the time Rogue Cavendish returned from Dover. She smiled a secret smile and made a wish that absence would make his heart grow fonder.
    The next morning, with their baggage tied on top of the carriage, Bess and Robert Barlow set off for Dunstable, the first stop on their journey to Derbyshire. Earlier she had filled a brass foot warmer with hot coals, which she now placed beneath Robert's feet, then tucked the lap robe about him.
    It was slow going until London was left behind, but there were so many places of interest to see from thecoach windows that time did not lag. Once they were in the countryside, Bess kept up a running conversation, and Robert was content to leave his book unread as he sat back listening to her and watching her with adoring eyes.
    After an intense coughing spell, Bess felt his forehead to assure herself Robert was not fevered. He captured her hand and smiled at her, seemingly happy to be wrapped in the private cocoon of the coach with her. Then he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, clutching her hand possessively.
    As he slept, Bess allowed her glance to roam over him. He was a beautiful youth, with the fine complexion of an English rose and a shock of thick, fair hair. A year ago, when Bess had arrived at the Zouches, he hadn't been any taller than she; now he was so tall and slim he towered over her.
    Surely the doctor was wrong when he said Rob wouldn't make old bones, Bess thought with a frown. He'll recover, she reassured herself. His mother will nurse him back to health! But then she remembered Jane's letter telling her that Robert's father was too ill to work his land. Rob's mother, poor lady, was going to have her hands full.
    The posting inn at Dunstable did not have rooms available next to each other, so Bess told the Zouche coachman to pay for only two. When he raised his eyebrows, Bess was affronted. “How the devil could you think such a thing?” she demanded. “Master Barlow has been so ill, I dare not leave him alone all night.” To Bess, Rob Barlow