Lady Ines Scandalous Hobby-Chapter 176 - Hundred And Seventy Six

The Next Week...

The morning mist was still clinging to the green hills of Carleton when the carriage was loaded. It was a crisp, bright morning, the kind that promised a new beginning.

Aunt Rowena stood on the front steps of the manor. She was wrapped in a thick wool shawl, clutching a handkerchief in one hand. She looked sad to see them go, but her smile was wide and encouraging.

"Goodbye!" Rowena called out, waving the handkerchief frantically. "Don’t eat too many cheese! And write to me the moment you land!"

Ines leaned out of the carriage window. She waved back until her arm ached.

"We will, Auntie!" Ines shouted. "Take care of the roses!"

Carcel sat beside her, smiling. He squeezed her hand.

"She will miss us," Carcel said. "But I suspect she is secretly excited to rearrange the furniture in the drawing room again."

The carriage rolled out of the mansion gates.

The gravel crunched under the wheels, a sound that was becoming familiar to Ines. But this time, they were not going to London. They were going to the sea.

The journey to the port was smooth. Ines watched the English countryside roll by—the sheep, the stone fences, the small cottages.

She was saying a silent goodbye to the only home she had ever known. She was trading the skies of England for the lavender fields of France.

When they arrived at the port, the smell of salt and fish filled the air. Seagulls cried overhead, circling the tall masts of the ships docked in the harbor.

There it was. The Neptune.

It was a magnificent ship with white sails that snapped in the wind.

"Are you ready?" Carcel asked, offering her his arm as they stepped onto the wooden dock.

Ines looked up at the ship. It looked huge.

"I am ready," she said firmly.

They boarded the ship. The sailors were busy running back and forth, shouting orders and pulling ropes. But Carcel led her to a quiet spot near the railing on the upper deck.

The ship began to move. Slowly at first, then faster as it caught the wind. The land began to shrink away.

Inside the ship, Ines took in the breeze. She stood by the railing, closing her eyes. The wind was cold, but it felt fresh. It felt like it was blowing away the last remnants of her old life—the rumors, the blackmail, the fear.

She felt happy going to France with the one she loves. She felt a bubble of excitement in her chest that made her want to laugh out loud.

She remembered her conversations with Carcel in the garden in London. Back then, France had been just a dream. It was a place they talked about to escape the reality of her life.

"One day," Carcel had said. "I’ll take you there."

And now she’s living it.

She didn’t hear him approach, but she felt him.

Carcel came behind her. He moved silently, his presence warm and solid against her back. He wrapped his hands around her waist, pulling her flush against his chest. He rested his chin on her shoulder.

He kissed her neck. His lips were warm against her cool skin.

"It is beautiful," he whispered.

"Isn’t it great?" Ines asked as the wind whipped her face, tangling her dark hair. "I feel like I can fly."

Carcel murmured, "Mmmm."

He wasn’t looking at the sea. He was looking at her. He was watching the way her cheeks turned pink in the cold air, and the way her hazel eyes sparkled brighter than the ocean.

Ines closed her eyes, her hands on Carcel’s. She leaned back into him, trusting him completely to hold her up. She felt the wind and the love surrounding her.

"I love you," she whispered to the ocean.

"I love you too," Carcel answered.

The crossing was swift. The sea was calm, as if blessing their union.

In six hours, they were already in France.

The port of Calais was different from England. It was louder. The people shouted in a language that sounded like music to Ines’s ears, fast and rhythmic. The air smelled of roasted chestnuts and strong tobacco.

They walked down the gangplank. Ines held her bonnet tight to her head. 𝙛𝒓𝒆𝙚𝒘𝒆𝓫𝙣𝓸𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝒄𝒐𝓶

"Stay close," Carcel said, guiding her through the crowd of sailors and merchants.

A carriage was waiting for them near the customs house. It was a simple, sturdy carriage, not as grand as the ducal one, but elegant. Their luggages were being carried by porters who were arguing cheerfully about who was stronger.

Standing by the carriage was a woman.

She was short and plump, with a face like a dried apple that had been smiling for too long. She wore a simple brown dress and a white apron that was impeccably clean. Her gray hair was tucked under a cap.

When she saw Carcel, her face lit up.

Carcel smiled. He let go of Ines’s hand for a moment and stepped forward.

"Madame Bernier!" Carcel called out.

"Carcel! Mon petit chou!" (Carcel! My little cabbage!) the woman cried.

She didn’t bow. She didn’t curtsy. She threw her arms open.

Carcel hugged her. He laughed as she patted his back with surprising strength.

Ines watched, fascinated. She had never seen a servant hug a Duke before. But here, the rules seemed different.

Mrs Bernier pulled back. She looked at Carcel, her eyes crinkling at the corners.

She asked Carcel in French, "Qui est-ce?" (Who is she?)

She looked at Ines with open curiosity.

Carcel turned to Ines. He held out his hand, inviting her into the circle.

Carcel replied in French, "C’est ma femme. Mais elle parle anglais." (This is my wife. But she speaks English.)

Mrs Bernier eyes went wide. She clasped her hands over her heart.

Mrs Bernier replied, "Ohh! Une épouse!" (A wife!)

She turned to Ines. She stepped closer, inspecting her with kind, brown eyes. She bobbed a quick curtsy, but it was friendly, not stiff.

She spoke English in a thick French accent.

"What’s your name, my dear?" she asked. The "r" in "dear" rolled on her tongue.

Ines felt a sudden wave of shyness. She wanted to make a good impression. She curtsied, holding her skirts.

"I’m Ines Hamilton..."

She froze. The old name slipped out of habit. She blushed furiously.

"...sorry, Anderson," Ines corrected herself quickly. "I am Ines Anderson."

The woman laughed. It was a warm, belly laugh.

"She is funny," the woman said. She turned to Carcel. "She’s cute."

Carcel grinned. "She is."

Carcel introduced the woman.

"Ines," Carcel said. "This is Madame Bernier. She is the housekeeper in charge of the manor in Provence. She traveled all the way up here to meet us so we wouldn’t be lost."

"Housekeeper?" Madame Bernier waved her hand dismissively. "I am the boss. He just pays the bills."

Ines giggled. She liked this woman already.

Madame Bernier smiled and gave her name again, pronouncing it slowly. "Bernier. Like the bear, but nicer."

Then she looked at the sky. It was getting late.

She gestured to the carriage with a sweeping motion of her arm.

"Come, come," she urged. "We must leave. The journey is long, and the soup is waiting. You must be hungry."

She looked at Ines’s waist.

"You are too thin!" Madame Bernier declared. "We must feed you butter and bread. French butter. It is the best."

Ines looked at Carcel. He shrugged helplessly, but he was smiling.

"Do not argue about the butter," Carcel whispered to Ines. "You will lose."

They got into the carriage. The seats were worn but comfortable. Carcel sat next to Ines, and Madame Bernier sat opposite them, still talking happily about the weather, the road, and the cheese she had packed in a basket.

"France," Ines whispered to herself as the carriage jolted forward.

She looked out the window at the cobbled streets of Calais passing by. She held Carcel’s hand tight.