His Spoilt Lady

by Vanessa Brooks

  Or a lusty fellow such as myself, he thought privately. “What is it that you want with me, Mr. Foster?” Linnett interrupted him impatiently. John raised an eyebrow at her abruptness, but he made no comment, deciding it was a good thing she was no mind reader, for she would flee if she could discern his thoughts.

  Linnett sat awaiting his reply, glowering, a mulish expression marring her pretty features. When John made no attempt to reply, she tossed her head and looked haughtily in the other direction, thinking that since he had engineered this encounter he could carry the conversation; all she wanted was to be left alone to her own devices. They sat in an uneasy silence until the horses, growing restless, began to dance around, snorting and stamping their feet, impatient to be on the move again.

  John openly assessed Linnett. He admired her proud profile and straight back and the soft wisps of her dark honey-coloured hair that had escaped the chignon in which she’d tried to arrange it and floated around her pretty, if sullen, face. John had a sudden urge to reach out and smooth back the silky strands, but he resisted and kept firm hold on his reigns. Shifting his weight in the saddle, he sighed heavily. “I suppose,” he drawled, “it was too much to expect courtesy from you, Miss Wainwright, although I thought that at the very least you would honour your father’s request that you show me over the Lavenstock estate. Perhaps you are unaware that I am a very stubborn man, Miss Linnett Wainwright, and I will not leave your house until I have spent some time with you, especially since it is your father’s wish that we become further acquainted. I would have thought that to accomplish this, you would see the sense in our continuing to ride together to fulfil your obligation to your father.”

  Two spots of red colour appeared on Linnett’s cheeks. Who did this man think he was, to point out her duty to her father, knowing nothing at all about her! Instantly she came to a decision, at least if I show him around the estate my duty is then done and I can then ignore the wretched man, she reasoned.

  The truth be told, Linnett felt very uneasy in John’s presence for some reason, and she could not fathom why he made her nervous. He was so arrogant, so darkly forbidding, not at all the type of man she would consider for her husband. Taking a sideways look at him from beneath lowered lashes, she observed his stern, hawk-like profile, his hooded pewter gaze. Linnett cast her eyes downwards over his self-assured body, the powerful shoulders, sturdy thighs clad in fawn riding breeches, muscles standing out as he controlled the restless movements of the horse between his thighs. Linnett shivered at the very thought of enduring such a man as a husband. Her taste ran to an altogether different breed of gentleman, one man in particular with merry blue eyes and a quick and ready smile.

  Taking a deep breath, Linnett said coldly, “Very well, Mr. Foster, I will escort you on a tour of our estate because my father has requested it of me. Will you then agree to leave me in peace?”

  John frowned thoughtfully. “Do I invade your peace of mind so much then, Miss Wainwright?” he asked mildly.

  Linnett flushed, lifted her chin and glared at him. “You seem to be ignorant of the fact that since my mother is dead. I am not Miss Wainwright but Lady Wainwright. Please try to remember that fact, Mr. Foster. Come along… if you still wish to see the estate, that is?” Without waiting for a reply, Linnett turned her horse with a flourish and cantered off. John urged his mount forward and muttered an acerbic curse, one definitely not for a lady’s ears, before he galloped after her.

  First, they rode the estates boundaries, and then Linnett led John to a small row of farm cottages. All were in reasonably good repair except the first, which had a battered, dilapidated front door and shutters missing from most of the windows. Linnett jumped down from her horse and was greeted by a pair of yapping mongrels, which she stooped to pat, before walking to the cottage and rapping at the door with the end of her riding crop. John dismounted and followed, assuming that was what she expected.

  The door was opened by an elderly, unkempt man. His hair, what remained of it, hung in thin, greasy strands. His clothing was stained, and he emitted a pungent odour of unwashed body. At the sight of Linnett, however, his face broke into an almost toothless grin. “Ah, ‘tis yerself is it? Come to see Esmerelda, have ee!” He flung the old wooden door wide for Linnett to enter. John followed behind, listening to Linnett chatting easily with the old man.

  “Has she whelped yet, Jacob?”

  “Ay, she has that, Miss, yesterday t’was.”

  “How many?” asked Linnett.

  “Would ye believe nine?”

  “Nine!?” Linnett exclaimed, clapping her hands.

  Shamus led them through the untidy, foetid cottage and out of the back, where a large brick pen, smelling strongly of pig, stood. Linnett leaned over the wall, excitedly exclaiming over the nine small piglets that lay nestled close to their large pink mother. “Hello, my darling, what a clever girl you are. Nine little babies just as lovely as their mam! You will let me hold them in a day or two won’t you, Esmerelda? Look at the little sweetings!” she said, turning shining green eyes to John. He listened in amazement as this aloof and beautiful girl cooed lovingly at a large, rather dirty, not to mention smelly, porcine mother. All her past animosity towards John seemed forgotten as she explained that pigs liked to keep their piglets to themselves for a few days before they allowed others to hold them.

  “How did you become so enamoured with hogs, Lady Wainwright?” he asked her curiously. Linnett gave Shamus a wide smile and he gave her a wink, breaking into a phleghmy cough before saying, “Ah, well t’was like this -- I’ve two dogs, d’y see, always ‘ad two, blest if I knows why?” Jacob stopped speaking and scratched his stubbly chin thoughtfully.

  Linnett chuckled and carried on the tale. “One of Jacob’s dogs was known to be fierce; in fact, my father was always saying that he would knock it on the head, if ever it bit anyone. When I was eight or thereabouts, I was down here in the apple orchard scrumping apples with the village children, well strictly speaking they were scrumping but since we own the orchard, I was not.” Linnett waved a hand at the orchard that ran up almost to the back of the cottages.

  “I just couldn’t manage to climb a tree with my long skirts, so the boys threw the apples down to me and I caught them in my apron. Suddenly one of the boys shouted out a warning, ‘Run, it be Jacob’s dog!’ So up I flew and ran as fast as I possibly could, and this awful dog streaked after me barking like mad! It was at my heels already by the time I had reached here, so I scrambled up the wall and flung myself over the other side -- straight into Esmerelda’s grandmother Primrose’s stall! I landed in all the pig filth and slid over to the far side of the pen, squashed up against the wall covered with pig muck. Goodness, I was terrified! This simply enormous pink pig started to come towards me, and I had heard that pigs can give a very nasty bite. Their teeth lock like so.” Linnett linked her fingers to demonstrate.

  “Then I remembered the apples in my apron pocket. Luckily, I still had three, so I rolled one across to Primrose, and she gobbled it up and came a bit closer. So I rolled another, and Primrose ate that one, too, then walked right up to me! I dropped the third apple in fright onto my knee and Primrose ate it and then snuffled my apron looking for more. When she couldn’t find any more apples she just lay down like a dog and rested her head on my lap!” Linnett stopped and laughed.

  “Aye!” said Jacob shaking his head, “when I comes out t’see what d’rackets all about I looks over d’wall ‘ere and see’s ‘er Ladyship sat covered in pig filth petting old Primrose like she was her little pet dog! She’s a’scratching ‘er ears and patting old Primrose an’ that pig is a’lyin’ there adoring yon lassie! Never seen nothin’ like in me loife and that’s a fact!”

  Linnett giggled with infectious laughter and flapped her hand at John. “Wait though!” She chirruped, ‘the b..best.. b..bit.. oh! Oh!”

  Linnett tried to talk but was doubled up with gurgles of infectious laughter, and John began to chuckle with her. “The dogs!”
spluttered Linnett, “Shamus’s dogs! One was fierce and one was that soppy old lump over there!” She pointed at the larger of the two hairy mongrels, who sat with a lolling tongue, basking in a patch of sunlight. “It was that dog, you see, that had chased me, not the fierce dog at all!” Linnett clutched Shamus as they howled with laughter together.

  It was at this point John realised with a jolt that he very much wanted to marry this bewitching, mercurial girl.

  Chapter 3

  The rain lashed against the windows of Lavenstock. The howling wind rattled the old panes, and the trees beyond the driveway bent double with the ferocity of the elements. John turned away from this depressing scene and glanced over to his host. “Filthy weather for spring, even in England,” he muttered. Walking away from the sight to stand next to the blazing fire, he rested a foot on the fender, and his elbow on the mantle and released a long, deep sigh. John had been at the hall for a number of days now, and Sir Thomas was pressing him to propose to Linnett. Since his ride on the estate with her, John found himself keen to marry the girl and this surprised him.

  Linnett was indeed extraordinarily beautiful yet the most bad-mannered, discourteous young woman John had ever met. Had he not seen that other surprising side to her character, at Shamus’s cottage, he would have given up on the whole idea of a match. John was surprised by just how much he desired this spoilt, wilful, proud girl, and yet she had inflamed his blood and possessed his thoughts until he knew he had to have her and tame her.

  Coming to a decision, John swung away from the fire and seated himself opposite his friend. Leaning forward, he looked earnestly into the worried face of his host. “Sir, if Linnett will have me, I should like to take her as my wife. Yet so far, most of our encounters have been at best...chilly. It pains me to have to tell you it is not simply that your daughter is spoilt, but she is also contrary, perverse, arrogant and extremely rude. Her only saving grace is her sense of humour.”

  Sir Thomas chuckled and said, “Oh come now, her beauty sweetens the list of her faults surely!” John grinned and nodded affirmation; her beauty and shapely form were on his mind rather a lot of late. Sir Thomas sat back, quietly contemplating for a moment or so before straightening up and leaning forward in his chair.

  “Very well, John, if you should marry my Linnett, you should know that on my death everything goes to my daughter and so to you as her husband. Now for her wedding portion, I will sign over the Tempest and one quarter of my interest in our company. Well now, John, what do you say to that?”

  John held up his hands. “You misunderstand me, Sir. I am much taken with your daughter. Her beauty is unrivalled and her spirit admirable. It is just that what I need is a wife who needs must leave all that she knows and travel across the sea to a new world. I intend to propose to her, but there is little I can do if she will not have me.”

  Sir Thomas slapped his knee, “Nonsense! A red-blooded young buck such as yourself knows how to tame a horse; use that knowledge. Skittish things horses, much like women I always think! Linnett must be settled with a man, not some milksop boy who won’t be able to deal with her hissy fits! I know my gal, John, and she just won’t be happy unless she can respect her man.”

  “That remains to be seen, sir; your daughter is not impressed with my presence so far. As to my wealth, well, our partnership will, I hope, prevail, whatever the outcome.” John smiled, and Sir Thomas relaxed, nodding. “Of course, dear boy, of course, however, you are I am sure, wrong about Linnett’s opinion of you. Why, only this morning I overheard her speaking to her maid, Lottie. She said you were a most handsome man and that if she could take a hand in your choice of dress, she would soon have all the ladies swooning at your feet.” Both men laughed.

  Sir Thomas had not been quite truthful with his account of eavesdropping, for what he failed to add was that the young lady in question had ended by saying, “The ladies would swoon at his feet, and he no doubt would simply glare at them for getting in his way, that I assure you would be the only notice he would take of them!”

  Linnett was the only daughter of Sir Thomas and his late beloved wife, Arabella. She was so named for her maternal grandmother and had been extremely over-indulged by her father. Even the servants were inclined to spoil the bewitching Linnett. Her mother had been the toast of London during her coming-out season. A stunning young woman with a classic pale, blonde, beauty, Linnett had inherited her mother’s loveliness, along with her amazing green eyes. Her hair was much darker than her mother’s, a deep honeyed gold. From her father she had inherited something of a temper, along with his stubborn determination. She could outride all her friends and many young men of her acquaintance. She loved her horses, indeed all horses.

  When she was only ten, she and two stable lads had stolen four old nags from the local village horse fair. Actually, the stable lads were unwilling accomplices, coerced by an avenging Linnett. The horses were in a terrible condition and would probably have been sold to a knacker’s yard. Linnett, however, seeing the poor beasts tethered the day before the horse fair, determined to liberate them from their plight. In the dead of night, she and her accomplices crept from the estate and rode into the village. There was nobody about. Certainly the owner of the ancient nags did not expect anyone to steal what he had been unable to sell, dragging the sorry creatures from fair to fair, eventually resenting them any kind of care. The “horse thieves” simply untethered the ponies and led them home to Lavenstock Hall.

  Even after the experienced care of Sir Thomas’s stable hands and a goodly diet of oats, the poor animals failed to thrive, eventually succumbing to old age. They died one after the other. Linnett consoled herself with the fact the poor beasts had known some comforts at the end of their lives. Sir Thomas had bawled at Linnet after the escapade, but even she could tell that he was rather proud of her. Sir Thomas admired her courage; he told everyone of their acquaintance the tale of the rescue and always ended by praising his daughter’s “pluck.”

  At the time of her father’s conversation with John, Linnett was preparing for that night’s ball and her maid Lottie was helping her to dress. “Lottie, do you prefer the green silk or the cream?” Linnett held the cream dress adorned with tiny pearls up against herself and looked at her reflection in the mirror, her head tilted to one side and the tip of her pink tongue caught between her front teeth in concentration. Lottie, standing behind her, frowned. “I really cannot say, miss, and both are lovely. Hold up the green again, only this time I’ll hold the cream next to it, and that way we can sees them both together and maybe that’ll help us decide.”

  She held a beautiful green satin up against her mistress and they both gazed intently into the mirror.

  “I just don’t know,” Linnett said, and looked sideways at her plump little maid. “What do you think?” Linnett asked.

  “The green do bring out your eyes, miss. I know you always like to wear green because of your eyes, but this dress do make them all glittery and bright. Wear the green....go on, please, miss!”

  Linnett was pleased with the compliment from her maid. “Oh, all right,” she said and twirled around. “I do hope he is there tonight. I know he had an invitation, because Lady Margaret told me so this morning.”

  "Mr. Foster, miss?" Lottie laid the green dress on the bed, went to the jewellery casket on the dressing table and drew out an emerald and pearl choker.

  “No, of course I don’t mean Mr. Foster! I was talking about Lord Charles! Oh, where is my fan?”

  “Here it is, miss, I have it!”

  “Lottie, why did you think of Mr. Foster?” Linnett turned to Lottie, her eyebrows raised.

  Lottie giggled, “He’s that ‘andsom miss! I naturally thought it was him you meant.”

  Linnett, gazing thoughtfully at her maid, said, “You think him handsome then? He is so dark and forbidding, not to my taste at all. Why, when you compare him to Lord Charles and his friends, he seems like a, well, like an old man! Always looking so critical. Have you no
ticed he always frowns!" Linnett pulled a horrible grimace and plumped down onto the bed.

  "Mind your dress, miss!" Lottie gave her mistress a hard shove and retrieved the lovely gown that Linnett had just crushed.

  Maid and mistress had known each other a long time, and their relationship had developed into a friendship that went beyond that of mistress and maid. Lottie, a pretty, but rather plump girl, had grown up on Sir Thomas Wainwright’s estate; her father was one of Sir Thomas’s tenant farmers. She was one of six children, and being the eldest, she was sent into service up at the ‘Big House’ when only twelve years old. She was a bright and capable girl and soon caught Sir Thomas’s eye. He was very aware of Linnett’s wild streak and thought a young intelligent girl would have more influence over her more extreme behaviour than an older, duller maid. So far, his judgement had been sound and the two girls, similar in age, had quickly become friends.

  Lottie shook out the crumpled green dress and, pushing her arms into it, held it up high.

  “Come on, miss. Let’s get your dress on now.”

  Linnett stood up and bent her head into the dress opening." Lottie ", she said from the depths of green satin, "have you heard any talk about my marriage between this John Foster and my father?”

  “Talk, miss? Why no, miss.” Lottie pulled the dress down and held out the sleeves for Linnett to push her arms into.

  “It’s just that Father keeps on and on about him and asks me what I think of him. I feel sure he is planning something. Oh, I do wish Charles would propose to me! It would take care of this John Foster problem.”