“I attempted to do so, sir," Briggs replied, “but they said the road is blocked, and they have no choice but to leave the trunk here.”

Lucius was betrayed into a hasty retort. “If they set the thing outside my door, that is precisely where it will stay.”

His butler made to leave the room when Lucius thought the better of it. This was Miss Lockhart’s trunk, and she should not suffer for the men’s lack of diligence or his loss of temper. “Stay a minute, Briggs. I will see to the trunk.”

At the door was what looked to be the stagecoach driver with his cape and tall hat perched on his head. He was accompanied by a second man who Lucius recognized as a hostler from The Songbird, a nearby inn.

“What brings you here?” he asked them. “Did Miss Lockhart not give you instructions for her trunk?" The article in question, a brown, stiff leather box with a rounded lid and thin straps held in place by metal studs, sat between the men on the ground. It looked too small to carry all the effects of a woman setting up permanent residence in a new place.

"There’s a tree that fell last night from the high wind, sir—along the road. We can’t bring the coach to be fixed until the tree is removed, but the trunk must go either way. We thought p’rhaps the miss might still be here."

“This is my hunting box, and she is a lady,” Lucius replied with a degree of exasperation. “Of course she is not here.”

The men did not seem to know what to make of that and looked from the trunk back to their poor conveyance. Lucius paused for a moment. Perhaps this was fate's way of telling him he needed to do his duty to the countess and see how she was faring—and this time to stop and converse with her. He owned to some curiosity over whether Miss Lockhart was in better frame today than she was last night. She had been subdued before the countess, though she’d taken pains to hide it. She had certainly let him know precisely what she thought of his welcome. The memory made Lucius smile.

“Very well,” he said. “You may leave it here. I will see that Miss Lockhart gets it."

The men wasted no time in setting the trunk outside his front door and turning to climb into their gig as if they feared he would call them back. Lucius watched them turn the carriage and go the way they came, which must have been the unencumbered portion of road leading to The Songbird. He turned his face to where the stagecoach must lie, but the sight of it was hidden by the trees. They had not had any more snowfall, and it wouldn’t be difficult to bring the trunk this morning. He would access Harrowden through the private road he’d used last night.

Lucius stood looking at the modest trunk for a moment. He might as well take it over now. Then he would be done with the errand and could get back to his solitude.