“I am ashamed to be such a trouble to you, sir. I should not have ventured out. Only I felt so oppressed that I…”
Her voice died and she again looked conscious. Intrigued, Niall ventured a question.
“Oppressed? By the heat?”
“No! Oh … yes, it — it is excessive. Too hot really to be walking when…”
“When you are not quite well yet,” Niall put in easily. The girl was clearly in some agitation of spirits. If he did not miss his guess, it had little to do with the weather.
“It was foolish of me, just as you said.”
Niall gave a small bow. “Accept my apologies. I spoke rudely.”
“Oh, no, I did not mean…” She drew an obvious breath. “Pardon me, my lord, I must sound like a ninny. I am not as a rule so incoherent.”
“It is no wonder. You were in a deep swoon. There is no saying how long you had been unconscious.”
She stared up at him, consternation in her eyes. “Surely it could not have been many minutes?”
“Well, you did not regain your senses for several minutes after we found you. I had time to check for broken bones and I chafed your hands for some time.”
The pale cheeks ran a trifle pink. “I have given you a deal of trouble, my lord.”
“Now don’t start that again.” Niall gave her a reassuring look. “Let us dispense with that nonsense once and for all, if you please. It’s no trouble. I am a soldier, you must know, quite used to dealing with the unexpected.”
She eyed him in a manner Niall could not regard as anything but wary.
“I might have guessed, had I been a little more in my own mind.” A smile brightened her countenance. “The military bearing is unmistakable.”
“Alas, I am no longer a man of the sword.”
“You’ve sold out?”
“I had no choice.”
He closed his lips, irritated to find himself drawn into talking of his affairs. It struck him Miss Westacott’s conversation had little to do with fripperies. Refreshing. He could even look forward to escorting her back to the vicarage.
“Do you suppose you are ready to undertake the journey home now?”
Miss Westacott at once resumed the look of consciousness and Niall regretted having spoken.
“Yes, indeed. We need not dawdle here any longer.”
She made to get up off the tree stump and Niall at once went to her aid, taking her arm in a strong grip and putting a hand to her back. She tottered a little and then steadied, straightening her limbs with a determined air.
“Thank you, my lord. I think I may manage now.”
Niall ignored this. “Slip your hand through my arm. Good. You will alert me instantly if you feel yourself weakening, is that clear?”
She peeped up at him, emitting the tiny laugh he recalled from before.
“I understand you perfectly, sir.”
Niall guided her through the trees, keeping a gentle pace, his tone rueful meanwhile. “I beg your pardon, Miss Westacott. I am too used to being in command.”
“I can see that.”
There was a tease in her voice and he had to laugh.
“Observant of you.”
“Well, it is rather obvious, you know.”
“I don’t doubt it. I was trying to be ironic.”
“Oh, I had not realised. You must blame the disorder of my mind.”
Niall glanced down at her. “There is nothing disordered about your mind, ma’am. You are as sharp as a knife.”
She laughed out. “I am glad my condition has not obscured that fact.” And then a note of penitence entered her voice. “Oh, no, I must not tease you. You have been immeasurably kind.”
“Don’t spoil it, Miss Westacott. I much prefer your bite to your protestations of gratification.”
Again the tiny laugh. “I see I cannot please you, sir. I shall confine my remarks to the commonplace.”
“Heaven help me! I beg you won’t. I’ve not been so much entertained since I came to this Godfor— this village.”
“Oh, dear. I must request my uncle to increase his prayers for the Almighty to reappear.”
Niall burst out laughing. “But you are delightful, Miss Westacott!”
The figure at his side stiffened on the instant, and Niall felt as if he escorted an effigy. She did not answer, and he was struck with the realisation he had blundered.
“What is it? May I not compliment you?”
Her eyes flashed a look, once again full of consternation. Her voice took on apology. “Oh, no! Forgive me, I … it was not…” He heard an indrawn breath and there was resolution in her tone. “Let us talk of something else, if you please, sir.”
But the mood was spoiled and Niall could think of nothing whatsoever to say.
Chapter Two
Inwardly chiding herself, Edith cast about for some innocuous topic she might introduce. Foolish to be so sensitive. He’d meant nothing by the remark and her involuntary flinch was unjustified. She rarely had herself so little in hand. It must be the result of her swoon. And again, she must blame herself for venturing forth.
“Stupid, stupid.”
“I beg your pardon?”
Edith had not realised she had muttered aloud. Conscious once more, she made an effort at lightness. “I was giving myself a mental shake, sir, for my foolishness.”
“Which particular foolishness had you in mind?”
A choke of laughter escaped her and she glanced up at her escort. His look was innocence itself, but she was not deceived.
“I shall not fall into that trap, my lord. I am perfectly aware you are roasting me.”
His lips quirked and a tiny flutter disturbed Edith’s pulse. She quelled the rise of attraction. Lord Hetherington and she could have nothing to do with one another.
Nor, now she had leisure to observe with a less chaotic mind, could she count him a handsome man. He was swarthy rather, his complexion a trifle rough and weather-beaten, his left cheek and jaw marred by a disfiguring scar. But his features were strong under a mop of curling auburn locks little concealed by the beaver hat.
No, these attributes could hold little appeal. Yet his air of command and a sense of barely contained vigour gave off an energy that drew Edith, as if she might drink of it to resuscitate her depleted vitality.
“Are you growing tired?”
She gathered her scattered thoughts. “No, indeed, sir. I am managing very well. It is but a step to the village now.”
She could already see the church spire through the trees and breathed a sigh of relief. Despite her words, the effort to remain steady on her feet and not succumb to the debilitating weakness that still plagued her was taking its toll.
Her strength failed abruptly and she stopped, clinging to Lord Hetherington’s arm. “A moment, my lord. Let me catch my breath.”
“You are tired! Why did you not tell me?”
She did not answer, grateful for the swift arm that came about her and allowing her companion to take her weight as she leant against his strength. She took slow breaths as her physician had taught her, letting her limbs relax until the breathlessness subsided.
She was glad of his lordship’s silence, and thought he must have an innate understanding of her need for a brief moment of peace. Presently she felt able to take her own weight again and she straightened, feeling Lord Hetherington’s hold relax.
“Better?”
“Much, thank you. I beg your pardon. I lose my breath a little too easily.”
“So I apprehend.” Obedient to the pressure of his arm, she began walking again. “How long is it since you left your bed?”
Edith could not forbear sighing. “A little more than a week. I was obliged to take to my bed after my arrival, I’m afraid.”
“Had you journeyed far?”
“From Bath. But it was not so much the length of the trip. I was not entirely well when I made it, you see.”
A grunt of dissatisfaction came from beside her. “What
you mean is you got up from a bed of sickness to travel to this place. And that, my dear Miss Westacott, was definitely foolish.”
Stung, she retaliated before she could stop her tongue. “It was not of my choosing, sir! Had any other course been open to me, I would not have started out at all.”
She felt him stiffen beside her. “Accept my apologies, ma’am. I didn’t know.”
“Of course you did not. Yet you made assumptions you had no right to make.” With difficulty, Edith controlled her spurt of temper. “Pardon me… I am prone to impatience since…”
“Not a terribly patient patient then?”
Her irritation vanished as she laughed. “You, sir, are an unfeeling wretch!”
“Alas! Come, you are beginning to sound more like yourself.”
“I don’t know how you know that since you scarce know me at all.”
“Oh, I think I have your measure, Miss Westacott.”
Incensed, she threw him a glare. “Do you indeed, Lord Hetherington? Upon the acquaintance of a bare half hour, if that?”
“But an eventful half hour, ma’am. There is nothing like a crisis to pare away the façade under which we all take refuge.”
The cynical note was pronounced, and Edith’s hackles relaxed again.
“You appear to take a jaundiced view of humanity, my lord.”
“Soldiering brings out the best and the worst, ma’am, with little room for affectations. I confess to some distaste for the frivolous attitudes I have encountered in civilian circles.”
“Not a very civil civilian then?”
He broke into laughter. “Touché, Miss Westacott!”
A warm glow invaded Edith’s bosom, and she was obliged once again to suppress a feeling of being drawn to the man. It was fortunate perhaps that they entered the village at this moment, taking her attention in another direction.
“If we take the lane to the left of the green, it is the shorter way to the vicarage. I may enter by the back gate.”
“Then by all means let us go that way.”
As they neared the turn leading to the back of the vicarage, Edith bethought her of her uncle. “He will be distressed.”
“Who will?”
She’d spoken aloud again. She made haste to explain. “The Reverend Westacott. My uncle, you must know. He has been immeasurably kind. He insists upon my remaining with him, though I can’t but feel…”
She faded out, annoyed with herself for so nearly speaking out about her personal affairs with a virtual stranger. Not that she felt it so, recalling his words. They were scarce acquainted, yet she’d been within an ace of confiding in him.
Lord Hetherington appeared not to notice her hesitation. “I have not yet met him, so I am glad of the opportunity.”
She regarded him frowningly. “You’ve not been to church since your arrival?”
He grimaced. “I regret to disappoint you, but no. I dare say it is a habit I must cultivate.”
“But you must have had a chaplain in the army?”
“Indeed, but I have not been to church as such in an age.”
To one brought up under the aegis of a pastor, such neglect seemed almost irreverent. But Uncle Lionel had stressed both tolerance and charity, and she must not judge. Instead, she indulged curiosity. “Was it a harsh life, soldiering?”
“At times. I did not regard it.”
An odd tone in his eyes struck her, and she spoke without thinking. “You revelled in it.”
His head turned sharply. “Yes! What made you say so?”
She could not resist. “I have your measure, my lord.”
He eyed her, his expression somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “I am undecided how much I care for having my words thrown back at me.”
“Then it is well we are within a stone’s throw of my home, sir.” She took hold of the gate and moved away from his side, holding out a hand. “I must thank you, my lord, for —”
He ignored the hand, leaning to unclick the latch. “I will see you into the house, Miss Westacott.”
“There is no need, I assure you.”
“Nevertheless, it will better suit my conscience to assure myself you are safely returned to your uncle’s care.”
Edith was left with nothing to say. She allowed him to tuck her hand back in his arm as they walked up the path that led down the back garden. Before they reached the main door at the back of the house, it opened and her uncle’s round bespectacled face appeared, followed by his portly little form hurrying to meet them, a worried frown between his brows.
“Ede, my dear child! To be out in this heat! What were you thinking of? And who in heaven’s name is this?”
Releasing her hand from her companion’s sustaining arm, Edith moved towards the vicar.
“This is Lord Hetherington, Uncle Lionel, who has kindly lent me his arm. I’m afraid I fainted in the woods.”
“Fainted!” Her uncle caught her by the shoulders, his critical gaze examining her face. “My dear, dear child! What in heaven’s name possessed you? I wish you had asked me…” He faded out, catching her into a stifling embrace for an instant. Keeping his arm about her, he put out a hand to her rescuer. “I have not the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir, but you have my heartfelt gratitude. My poor girl here is not fit to be walking in such weather.”
Expecting this sentiment to be echoed by his lordship, Edith was surprised when he disclaimed as he took her uncle’s hand.
“I gather Miss Westacott was in need of air and solitude, sir. I cannot blame her, though perhaps it was a little incautious.”
Edith had to laugh. “A little! When you have been scolding me for foolishness?”
“Did he so? Then I shall refrain, my dear Ede, but I don’t mind telling you when I spotted you from the window, I was quite put about.”
“Yes, I can see that, sir,” Edith said on a laugh. “I’m sorry to have worried you. But allow me to make you properly known to each other.”
Lord Hetherington flung up a hand. “Let us dispense with formality, if you please. You are the Reverend Westacott, sir, and I regret I have not — er — called upon you earlier. I am still grappling with estate affairs.”
Her uncle’s face took on the look of solemnity she knew well.
“The Lowrie family! Too, too tragic, sir. An estimable gentleman and his wife so amiable.”
Edith heard her uncle without surprise. She knew his distress to be sincere, for he had known the Lowries well, and indeed had officiated at their nuptials, so he’d told her. Edith remembered Roland Lowrie as a youth, but had never met his wife. Her uncle’s smile reappeared.
“And so you have taken the title, my lord? We have all been wondering who it might be — myself in particular naturally — although Lord Tazewell has been kind enough since to fill me in a little.”
Lord Hetherington’s frown caused Edith to cut in before he could respond.
“We must not keep his lordship. I have delayed him enough.”
Her uncle took this up with all his usual buoyancy. “Indeed, yes!” Seizing Lord Hetherington’s hand again, he wrung it with fervency. “I am heartily in your debt, my lord.”
“Nonsense! It was my pleasure, and I was at leisure. I am only waiting for my horse to be reshod.”
“At Jackson’s? Then you must allow me to offer you refreshment while you wait. You must be parched, sir. I cannot think why we are standing about in this way. Ede, my dear child, do you go in and sit yourself down before you fall down.”
Hustled into the cluttered hall, Edith did not know whether to be glad or sorry to see Lord Hetherington tacitly accept the invitation, entering the house in the wake of her uncle, who waved him forward with an airy hand.
“Come in, come in, my lord. We do not stand on ceremony in this house.”
Within a few minutes, Edith was thrust into the comfy sofa in the haphazard family room at the back of the house, while her uncle waved Lord Hetherington to a seat opposite, near one of the leade
d casement windows, which were all open to the elements on this hot day. The vicar bustled across to the bell-pull, tugged upon it and returned to hover by his guest.
“Will you take ale, my lord? I shall order the lemonade for you and me, Ede. I know Mrs Tuffin was making a fresh jug, but his lordship may prefer a stronger brew.”
Lord Hetherington looked amused. “I will take a glass of your lemonade, sir. I dare say it will be more refreshing.”
“I find it so certainly, but then I am not one of your keen topers, sir. At any moment I may be called out, and a clear head is essential. Now where are my spectacles?”
“You are wearing them, Uncle Lionel.”
He put up his hand and fingered them, bursting into laughter. “I shall forget my head one of these days.”
Edith could not resist a glance at Lord Hetherington, relieved to see he was rather amused than irritated by her uncle’s insouciance.
He caught her glance. “Are you feeling a little recovered, Miss Westacott?”
“Goodness me, I was forgetting,” her uncle broke in at once, coming across to lay a hand to her brow. “Should you not lie down for a space, Ede?”
She took his hand and squeezed it, more to stop him fussing about her than anything else. “I will do so presently. I am already feeling much more myself.”
“But see you do rest, Miss Westacott. Or rather, I must trust your uncle to ensure you do. It’s obvious to me that you are as yet too debilitated to be gadding about the countryside.”
“I was hardly gadding about. And merely because you chose to assist me does not give you the right to order my movements.”
“Ede, how can you talk so, when his lordship is only concerned for your welfare?”
Closing her lips with difficulty on a tart retort, Edith was further incensed when his lordship chose to throw her a teasing look.
“Just so, sir. But I fear Miss Westacott is impatient of restraint.”
Fortunately for her temper, Mrs Tuffin bustled in, already armed with a large tray on which reposed the big jug filled with the pale liquid garnished with a battery of lemon slices and sweetened with honey.
“I thought as you’d be wanting this, Reverend, soon as I saw Miss Ede coming down the path.”
Knight For A Lady (Brides By Chance Regency Adventures Book 3) Page 2