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Places stayed. Hovingham – one free night. The Worsley Arms.
Easingwold – The George Hotel.

Places would stay again – 1
Places visited. Hovingham, Coxwold, Helmsley, Easingwold, York, Ampleforth Estates.
Places driven through by mistake…rather a lot.
Places not stayed. The Old Vicarage Easingwold now closed.


Walks – Ampleforth Estates. York Walls


Hecklers spotted- One


Attractions visited – Railway Museum York


Attractions not visited. The Minster- there was a wedding on as in NOT just the ceremony….place closed.


Kippers spotted – On the menu


Pubs visited – The George Hotel, Easingwold, Yorkshire Terrier, Three Legged Mare, Guy Fawkes,York. Fauconberg Arms, Coxwold -where Malice spent her non wedding night with her her cousin/hubby in the Viking and The Coutesan backstory. The Malt and Shovel, Hovingham.


Faux Pubs – The Cricketers Arms, Hovingham.
Alcohol consumed – No telling.
Dundee mentions – one


Book character mentions- one


Pairs of shoes and boots worn – all of them.

 

‘Twice, the sight of him had almost caused her to expire. When she had walked into the church at Coxwold and seen him standing there with a carnation in his lapel—their wedding day—and then that night in his apartment. Very well. She lied. It was thrice. When she had knocked on the door of his room at the little inn across from the church.

    Now, seeing him chucking wine down his throat as if the vineyard was about to run dry, casting his eye over some serving girl–her backside rather—and wagering what Lady Grace possessed, nausea rose in her gorge. When she considered a man who made her heart pound–a man who she should not be thinking of here–her heart also pounded wastefully.  Whatever the problem with Cyril—and there were a good twenty dozen—you knew where you stood with him. That was nowhere at all.

She glided closer. She had come to speak with him, wife to husband. And she had chosen here to do it because it was public. Those who thought the sun shone from the backend of his brown velvet breeches had a lot to learn. 

      “My lord.”

Of course, she might have known Cyril would be more interested in looking at her breasts than her face. Maybe she should have ventured in here topless?  Still, at least he was looking at her.   

“Cyril. Husband.”

      Now that jerked his chin up. If ever there was a way to bring a dog to heel, this was surely it.

      “I knew I should find you here before me, my dearest. And involved in a wager too. My lords, you must excuse Cyril, especially when he does not possess the money to pay any debts. And, we are shortly to require every penny we own.”

      “Malice?” He peered at her closely. “Malice? Is that you?” 

      “Most certainly it’s not Aunt Carter’s silver teapot, my dearest husband.”

copyright Shehanne Moore Soul Mate Publishing.