“How nice! Is this where you live?”
“No, ma’am. This is where, I hope, you’re going to live.”
“But who—?” began Amelia.
“Just you wait.” Jack jumped out and hitched the reins around a post. The big trees up and down the street formed an avenue of coolness. Amelia hesitated when he turned to assist her.
“Are they—Are they expecting me?”
Jack chuckled.
“Mrs. Royall, my dear, is expecting anything—at any time!”
“Jack! You don’t mean Mrs. Royall—the authoress!” Amelia hung motionless over the wheel. Jack grasped her firmly by the elbow.
“Who else? There is only one Mrs. Royall. There’s Her Highness now, back in the chicken yard. Come along. I’ll fetch the bag later.”
Amelia shook out her skirts and followed him along the path that led around the house.