All About Passion by Stephanie Laurens

poured.
    The road turned to mud. By late afternoon, the coach was crawling along. Heavy grey clouds had massed, then lowered; an unnatural twilight had descended, darkened further by the rain. The coach rocked to a stop. Then it tilted, and they heard a splat as the coachman jumped down. He rapped on the door.
    Charles opened it. "Yes?"
    Barton stood in the road, the rain streaming off his oilskin, pouring off his hat. "Sorry, sir, but we're a long ways away from Lambourn and we're not going to be able to go much farther. The light's going. Even if you was willing to risk the horses, we can't see what muck we'd be driving into, so we'd bog for sure within a mile."
    Charles grimaced. "Is there somewhere we can take shelter, at least until the rain stops?"
    "There's an inn just up there." Barton nodded to the left. "We can see it from the box. Looks neat enough, but it's not a coaching inn. Other than that, we're miles from any town." Charles hesitated, then nodded. "Take us to the inn. I'll have a look and see if we can stop there." Barton shut the door. Charles sat back and looked at Francesca. "I'm sorry, my dear, but…" Francesca managed a shrug. "At least we have a day's grace. If the rain stops during the night, we'll be able to reach Lambourn tomorrow."
    "Good God, yes!" Charles uttered a hollow laugh. "After all his planning, I wouldn't want to have to face Chillingworth and explain why his bride had missed the wedding."
    Francesca grinned and patted Charles's knee. "It'll all come right—you'll see." For some reason, she felt confident of that.
    The inn proved better than they'd hoped for, small but clean and very willing to cater to four unexpected guests and their servants. As the rain showed no sign of easing, they accepted their fate and settled in. The inn boasted three bedchambers. Charles took one, Ester another, while Francesca and Franni shared the largest with its canopied bed.
    They gathered in the tap for a hearty meal, then retired to their rooms, agreeing on an early start the next morning, heartened by the prediction of the innwife's father who assured them tomorrow would dawn fine. Reassured, Francesca settled in the big bed beside Franni and snuffed out the candle. They'd left the curtains open; moonlight streamed in, broken by the shadows thrown by nearby trees. After spending the day dozing in the coach, neither of them was sleepy. Francesca wasn't surprised when Franni stirred, and asked, "Tell me about the castle."
    She'd already told her twice, but Franni liked stories, and the idea of Francesca living in a castle appealed to her. "Very well." Francesca fixed her gaze on the dark canopy. "Lambourn Castle is centuries old. It sits on a bluff over a curve in the Lambourn River and guards the approach to the downs to the north. The village of Lambourn lies a little way along the river, tucked into the side of the downs. The castle has been modernized frequently and added on to as well, so it's now quite large, but it still has battlements and twin towers at either end. It's surrounded by a park filled with old oaks. The gatehouse is still standing and is now the Dower House.
    With formal gardens overlooking the river, the castle is one of the great houses of the district." She'd spent hours thumbing through guidebooks and books describing the country seats of peers, and she'd learned yet more from Lady Elizabeth. "Inside, the house is of the utmost elegance, and the views to the south are rated as spectacular. From the upper levels, there are also views north across Lambourn Downs. The downs are excellent for riding and are used for training racehorses."
    "You'll like that," Franni murmured.
    Francesca smiled. She said nothing more, only to hear Franni prompt, "And the bit of land that you have in your dowry is going to make the earl's estate look like one big pie again."
    "Indeed." Franni had overheard enough to become curious, so she'd explained. "And that's the reason for arranging our