The carriage jerked to a halt, and Natalie's eyes flew open. Her heart raced, pounding like the thrum of a drum in the silence. She sat upright, blinking into the darkness, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Beside her, the Duke sat with his usual calm demeanor, his face turned toward the window. His gaze seemed far away, though his tone, when he spoke, was anything but distant.
"You're finally awake," he said firmly, his voice cutting through the chill in the air. "Take bread and juice to the coachman. If you need to relieve yourself, do it now. We won't stop again for some time."
He did not wait for her reply. The Duke pushed the door open, letting a blast of icy air flood the small space. Natalie shivered and pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders as she watched him step down, his boots crunching against the gravel.
Peering outside, she saw nothing but shadows. Tall trees lined the road on either side, their dark branches stretching like claws into the sky. The night was thick and heavy, its silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves. Why here? she wondered. Why stop in the middle of nowhere?
With trembling hands, she reached for the basket beneath her seat. The smell of fresh bread wafted up, mingling with the faint tang of the juice she poured into a small cup. She stepped out carefully, her boots sinking slightly into the uneven ground. The air outside was colder than she had expected, and the dampness clung to her skin.
She spotted the coachman nearby. He was stretching his arms above his head, his movements slow and deliberate. The light from the carriage lanterns caught the silver in his hair, which looked as weathered as the lines etched into his face. He reminded her of an old oak tree—steady and strong despite the passage of time.
"Your meal," she said, holding out the bread and juice.
The coachman turned toward her and smiled warmly, his soft brown eyes crinkling at the corners. "Thank you, miss," he said, taking the offerings with care.
Natalie shifted her weight, feeling the uneven stones beneath her boots. The forest loomed around them, the darkness pressing in like a weight. She glanced nervously toward the trees, their shadows deep and endless.
"Waiting to find a spot, are you?" the coachman asked, his voice carrying a hint of amusement.
Her cheeks warmed despite the cold. "Yes," she admitted, her voice quiet.
"Finish my bread, and I'll show you a place where you'll have a bit of privacy," he said.
She nodded, grateful for his kindness. As he took a bite of the bread, she ventured a question. "Where are we?"
"Halfway between Barrington and Valecrest," he replied, his voice muffled as he chewed.
"Valecrest?" she repeated. "What is that?"
"A village," he said. "We'll reach it by tomorrow evening. The Duke intends for us to rest there before continuing the journey."
Natalie frowned. "And it's safe to stop here? What if there are robbers?"
The coachman chuckled, his laughter low and soft, like a distant rumble of thunder. "These roads are peaceful enough, miss. Nothing worse than the odd fox or hare crossing the path," the coachman finished, his tone light.
Natalie glanced toward the forest again, the shadows thick and shifting as the lantern light flickered. The thought of wild animals, even harmless ones, made her uneasy. She wrapped her shawl tighter, wishing for the safety of walls and a roof.
The coachman noticed her tense expression and grinned. "You're not fond of the wild, are you, miss?"
"It's not that," she replied defensively, though her voice wavered. "It's just… unfamiliar."
"That's fair," he said with a nod, finishing his bread. "Your first time traveling these parts, I'd wager?"
She nodded, reluctant to admit how much the unknown unnerved her. The dark woods, the chill of the night air, and the isolation—it was all so far removed from the estate's sheltered familiarity.
"You'll get used to it," he said kindly. "First time's always the hardest. I remember my own first journey. Every rustle in the trees had me jumping like a skittish colt."
She arched a brow, unconvinced. "You? Scared?"
He laughed, the sound rich and deep. "Aye, miss. Even an old hand like me was young and foolish once."
Natalie couldn't help but smile faintly. His warmth, so steady and genuine, was a small comfort against the cold unease creeping through her.
"Have you been doing this long?" she asked, hoping to distract herself from the forest's oppressive presence.
"Since I was a lad in my twenties," he said, wiping his hands on his coat. "Started with the Duke's father. Served him for years before he passed. God rest his soul."
"You've been with the family that long?" she asked, her voice tinged with surprise.
He nodded, his expression softening with memory. "The estate's been my life, miss. My work, my home. I've seen the Duke grow from a boy into the man he is now."
Natalie glanced toward the Duke, who stood some distance away, his figure silhouetted against the faint moonlight. He seemed untouchable, a figure carved from stone.
"Don't you ever want to leave?" she asked hesitantly. "To retire? Surely you've earned it."
The coachman smiled wistfully. "I've thought about it. Truth be told, I was ready to hang up the reins this year. But the Duke asked me to take this one last journey. The pay was too generous to refuse. With it, and my savings, my daughter and I will be comfortable for life."
"You have a daughter?"
"Aye," he said proudly. "Sixteen years old. Bright as the morning sun, she is."
Natalie returned his smile. "She must make you proud."
"She does," he said with a nod. Then his gaze shifted back to her, curious. "And you, miss? How did you end up on this journey? I expected one of the older maids to accompany the Duke."
She hesitated, feeling a flicker of self-consciousness. "It's because of tea," she admitted.
"Tea?"
"Yes," she said, smiling faintly. "The Duke says I make the best tea."
The coachman raised a brow, his eyes glinting with humor. "So you're the tea girl I've heard about?"
Natalie groaned softly, her cheeks warming. "Everyone calls me that."
"Well, it's no small thing," he said, his tone more serious now. "The Duke doesn't trust just anyone. If he's chosen you, that speaks volumes."
"I suppose," she said, though she wasn't sure if it was a compliment or an added burden. "It wasn't something I planned. One day, Mrs. Noelle asked me to prepare the Duke's tea because she was busy. He liked it, and now it's my responsibility."
"Seems he trusts you more than you realize," the coachman said with a nod. "Not everyone earns that from him."