Moments later, a noise at the hut door sent his pulse hammering again. With a muttered curse, he leapt to his feet. Pausing only to throw the edge of her cloak over Rosalind to cover her nakedness, he strode across the hut. He cracked open the door to see Hector standing there, head cocked to one side.
‘It’s your dog.’ He shut the door, leaving Hector outside. ‘He must have heard you scream.’
He fastened his breeches before returning to stand over Rosalind, now sitting up, her hair tangled around her face, her cloak clutched to her chest. She looked gorgeous and wanton, and yet bewildered and vulnerable. He hardened his heart. The warmth from the flames licked at his face and the bare skin of chest and arms, but did nothing to warm the chill inside.
‘You claimed to be a widow.’
Rosalind looked up sharply. ‘I am a widow.’
‘Your husband...?’
Her lips parted, but no sound emerged.
‘He could not perform?’
She hung her head. ‘No.’ Then she raised her chin and met his gaze. ‘He was not a young man.’
Yesterday’s exchange echoed through his head.
‘You are clearly an excellent actress.’
‘Or an accomplished liar?’
He did not know which. Or were they one and the same? A sound of exasperation erupted from him, at which Rosalind closed her eyes and averted her face, foiling any attempt to read her thoughts. Yet even though he distrusted her, he felt the urge to reassure her. There was no denying she had been a virgin. Her scream of pain as he had driven into her had been genuine. He crouched beside her and pushed her hair from her face.
‘I am sorry I hurt you. You do know that pain only happens the first time?’
Her gaze flicked to his and then away. ‘Yes. I knew.’
She was lying. Why lie about that, of all things?
‘Why did you not tell me? I could have made it easier.’
She scrambled up on to her knees... She was close—too close—and so very tempting as her cloak slipped, exposing the generous curves of her bosom. She clutched his hand.
‘I am sorry, but I was afraid you would not...’ Her words faltered. She inhaled and continued, ‘You are angry, but...please...let me explain to you. I am thirty years of age. If I had told you... If you did not... I might never again have this chance—’
With a vicious curse, Leo shot to his feet, wrenching his hand from hers. Her forehead puckered as he grabbed his shirt and pulled it over his head, shoving it haphazardly into his breeches. He knew only too well what she was about to say... She was about to tell him he must wed her.
Make an honest woman of her.
Honest! Humph! Over my dead body!
Rosalind wriggled into her shift before scrambling to her feet. She snatched up her corset and, reluctantly, he went to help her—loosely re-lacing the garment—before dealing with the fire, throwing earth on to the flames, taking his time. When he faced her again, she was fully clothed. She pulled her hair back and roughly braided it before looping it on her head and cramming her hat on top.
‘I am ready to go.’ She swung her cloak around her shoulders and marched to the door, then hesitated. She did not look at him. ‘You are angry now but, when you have had time to think, I hope you will understand why I did not admit the truth.’ Her voice was cold and matter of fact. She opened the door and was almost bowled over by an enthusiastic Hector.
‘Rosalind?’
She paused, silhouetted in the doorway, her hand on Hector’s collar. He understood too well her wish to climb the social ladder, but that did not mean he welcomed her attempt to better herself at his expense.
‘I know precisely why you did not tell me and I am angry because I resent being manipulated in such a way. I’m also disappointed in my poor judgement of your character. I never believed you would behave in such an unladylike way.’
She stiffened, a gasp escaping her lips, and then she pivoted on her heel and disappeared from view. Leo scooped up his greatcoat and shrugged into it as he walked to the door. Rosalind had already fetched Kamal from the lean-to and she waited with a stony expression for Leo to lift her to the saddle. As soon as she was mounted, she kicked the Arabian into a trot along the track at the edge of the wood that led, from memory, down into Malton village.
Leo hastened to untie and mount Conqueror who, with his bigger stride, soon caught up with Kamal.
Leo glanced across at Rosalind as they came alongside. ‘I shall escort you home.’
‘There is no need. I am quite accustomed to riding alone.’
‘You should not ride unaccompanied. I will escort you.’
They rode in silence, neither, seemingly, with any appetite for conversation. Instead, Leo pondered the events of that afternoon and concluded there was no longer any reason to prolong the unpleasantness of this visit to Halsdon Manor. It was time to go back to town.
The village eventually came into view and Leo recognised the turning to Stoney End up ahead.
‘I shall be perfectly safe from here,’ Rosalind said, tight-lipped.
‘You should not ride unaccom—’
‘Yes!’ Her curt response cut him short. ‘So you said. I—’
Her mouth snapped shut and a look of dismay crossed her face before it bloomed fiery red. He followed her gaze to a horseman, riding along the road leading from the village, and he cursed silently. Even at this distance, Leo could recognise the vicar, the Reverend Phillips.
‘Hurry,’ Rosalind hissed. ‘Please. I cannot face...’
She did not finish, for the vicar had seen them. He waved a greeting and spurred his horse into a trot.
‘Good afternoon, Mrs Pryce, Mr Boyton,’ he called as soon as he was within hailing distance. ‘This is a fortunate meeting indeed. You have saved me the journey to Stoney End. I have news of the child.’
Leo nudged Conqueror in front of Kamal, half-shielding Rosalind from the vicar’s sight. Susie! He had forgotten all about Susie and he realised with a surge of dismay he would have no choice but to see Rosalind again.
‘You have found out where she came from, Reverend?’
‘I believe so,’ the vicar said. ‘I have received news of a child who is missing from her home in Cucklow. I intend to drive over there tomorrow to discover more. I confess that, should the missing child prove to be Susie, it will place me in a quandary. I can only trust in God that I can educate her parents against quite such severe beatings as the child appears to have suffered.’
Leo heard a stifled gasp behind him, then Rosalind urged Kamal past Conqueror to stare at the vicar, the light of battle in her eyes. ‘You cannot think to send Susie back to such people,’ she declared. ‘How anyone can justify beating a child so badly I cannot begin to understand. Besides, Susie told us she has no mama or papa and I believe her.’
‘Quite, quite.’ The vicar turned his attention to Leo, clearly uncomfortable with the passion of Rosalind’s speech. ‘You may rest assured I shall carry out a very thorough investigation, sir. In fact, if you care to accompany me on the morrow, you would be most welcome.’
Leo caught the silent plea Rosalind sent him. His jaw tightened. He would do this for Susie. Not for Rosalind. She did not deserve his help after that cynical attempt to entrap him. He must count himself lucky there were no witnesses. He concentrated his attention on the vicar.
‘I shall be delighted to accompany you, sir. I also have reservations about returning a child to people who have ill-treated her in such a way. If we are not satisfied with their story, I do have connections with an orphan asylum in London where she could receive some education and be trained in service for when she is older.’
‘Splendid!’ The vicar raised his hat. ‘I shall leave at ten, if you care to come to the parsonage for that time. Good day to you both.’
‘Thank you,’ Rosalind said.
Leo nudged Conqueror into a walk. ‘There is no need to thank me. I am as eager as you to ensure Susie will be safe in the future.’
A weighty silence fell again between them, the only sound the occasional clink of horseshoe on stone as they rode around the corner and up the lane towards Stoney End. The lane ended at the junction where they would part company: the chimneys of Stoney End visible through the trees to their right and the lane that would take Leo to Halsdon Manor stretching to their left.
He heard Rosalind take a deep breath. ‘Leo. We must talk about...’
He raised his hand, palm facing her, and her words faded. If she spoke one word of marriage, the fragile threads holding his temper would surely snap.
‘Not now, Mrs Pryce. This is neither the time nor the place for this discussion.’
‘Mrs Pryce?’ She looked at him, her eyes wounded, and then looked away. ‘Then when will be the right time and place? I want to explain...to make you understand, from my point of view—’
‘I said not now.’ He bit the words out through clenched lips. ‘I shall call upon you tomorrow, following my return from Cucklow. Our discussion can wait until after we know what is to happen to Susie.’
Maybe by tomorrow the cut of her betrayal would sting less. Maybe his bitter anger at being once again deceived by a woman he trusted would have cooled to a simmer. Maybe he could speak to her without revealing his contempt for her character and her morals.
He shut his mind against the plea shimmering in her golden-brown eyes. Pleas would not change his mind. He would make no offer of marriage.
‘Until tomorrow.’
* * *
Cucklow was a mere five miles from Malton. If Leo and the vicar left Malton at ten, even if they stayed at Cucklow for a whole hour—which seemed unlikely—they should have returned an hour since. Leo had promised to call. He must know she would be waiting and not only to find out about Susie.
She had gone over and over what happened. His fury still mystified her—was her failure to tell him it was her first time really so terrible? Or was his anger a ruse, an underhand ploy to allow him to slip out of her life as easily as he had slipped into it?
Rosalind looked again at the mantel clock, huffed a sigh and shifted into a more comfortable position in her seat by the window. She picked up her mending and peered at the stitches. If she had set two in the past half an hour, that was as much as she had achieved. With another sigh, she packed Freddie’s shirt into her sewing basket and tucked it out of sight beneath the table next to her chair.
She sensed a gaze upon her and her head snapped round to the door.
‘Do you intend to enlighten me as to what ails you, Sister?’ Freddie limped into the room. ‘You’ve been as fidgety as a dog with fleas ever since noon. Even Penny has remarked upon it.’
‘Fidgety as... Freddie! That is a dreadful saying.’
Freddie shrugged, throwing a charming smile in her direction. ‘But it is accurate. What is wrong, Ros? You’ve been very quiet ever since I got back from Foxbourne yesterday. Lascelles hasn’t been bothering you, has he?’
‘No. If you must know why I am restless, it is that I am wondering what the vicar might have discovered about Susie. I hoped he might call in on his way back to Malton.’
No sooner had the words left her mouth than there was a knock at the front door. She leapt to her feet, heart in mouth, and hurried to the front door, throwing it wide with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation agitating her nerves. She need not have worried. The vicar stood alone upon the step. Leo was nowhere to be seen. Her heart plummeted back to its rightful place. Had Leo decided to wait until after the vicar’s visit in order to avoid any awkwardness?
‘Good afternoon, Reverend Phillips. Please, come in.’
The vicar removed his hat. ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Pryce. Thank you.’
As she showed him to the sitting room, she said, ‘I quite expected Mr Boyton to be with you, sir.’
‘Ah, yes...it is the strangest thing... Oh, good afternoon to you, Mr Allen. I hope I find you well today? No,’ he continued to Rosalind, ‘it is the reason I am somewhat later than I anticipated. I waited until a quarter to eleven for Mr Boyton, but he did not come. As I received no message in explanation, I rather thought you might have had word from him.’
‘No. I have heard nothing.’
That nervous roil of Rosalind’s insides stilled, leaving a leaden lump of misery weighing her down.
‘I shall go and order the tea tray, if you would care to take a seat, Mr Phillips. I cannot wait to hear what you have discovered about Susie.’
As she went to the kitchen and gave Penny her instructions, Rosalind’s mind raced, plucking at any likely reason she could think of for Leo’s absence and then discarding it. The only reason that made sense was that he’d never intended to call upon her as promised and her own fury—kept at bay by the hope that his anger might fade overnight—boiled up. How dare he place all the blame...all the responsibility...on to her?
Rosalind returned to the parlour, battening down her pain and caging her snarling rage. She painted a smile upon her face as the vicar told her of his discoveries.
‘The parson of Cucklow knew of a child named Susie, fostered from birth with a farming family called Wilton. It seems...’ he lowered his voice ‘...her mother was a gentleman’s daughter, seduced by the eldest son of a viscount who had no intention of wedding her. The girl was sent down here to give birth and the Wiltons were paid a sum of money to bring the child up as their own.’
Rosalind near choked with fury. ‘As their own? Well, they have signally failed in that regard, have they not? She has been half-starved and badly beaten. What have they to say about that?’
‘They are rough, poorly educated people, Mrs Pryce. They work hard to scrape a living from the land but, good harvest or poor, they must still pay their rent and their tithes. I suspect the money they were paid for Susie has long since been spent.’
‘But—’
He held up his hand to silence her. ‘I am not saying I condone their treatment of Susie, but at the same time I cannot help but have some sympathy for the family. They have five other children—all their natural offspring, so they tell me—and they did not look in much better condition than Susie.’
‘If what you have told us is true, Susie is not to be returned to these people,’ Freddie said. ‘Mr Boyton has a connection with an orphan school in London. He will find her a place there.’
‘But it is a school to train children to have a useful trade, Freddie,’ Rosalind said. ‘You heard what Reverend Phillips said: Susie’s father is the heir of a viscount and her mother is a gentleman’s daughter. She deserves better than to end up in domestic service.’
‘Your sentiments do you credit, madam, but you must see that Susie’s prospects are poor. She is, when all else is said and done, illegitimate. An education such as Mr Boyton suggested, and the prospect of decent employment, is as much as she can expect given her start in life.’
Rosalind compressed her lips. She would not argue with the vicar, but she did not agree. She vowed to do as much as she could to give Susie the chance of a better life.
‘You are right, sir,’ Freddie said, ‘and I know my sister will see the sense in what you say when she has had time to think about it.’
Mr Phillips rose. ‘The sentiments expressed by Mrs Pryce can only be admired as quite proper in a member of the gentler sex, my good sir. I do not decry them but, equally, sentiment cannot be allowed to rule our decisions.’
He smiled condescendingly at Rosalind, who gritted her teeth.
‘Oh, quite, sir.’ Freddie’s clear amusement made Rosalind’s hand itch to slap him.
&
nbsp; ‘Well, I have brought you my news,’ Mr Phillips said. ‘The Wiltons are not expecting Susie back, so when you see Mr Boyton you may tell him to go ahead and arrange a place for her at the orphan school.’
Chapter Thirteen
As soon as the vicar left, Rosalind rounded on Freddie. ‘I do not need time to think about it, Freddie. Susie is not going to some horrid school to be trained as a maid or a milliner. She will stay here with us.’
She was conscious of Freddie eyeing her with raised brows and she felt her cheeks heat. She sat down, folding her hands in her lap.
‘You have decided, have you?’
‘It is what I want.’
‘And do I have any say in the matter? And what about Boyton? He may not be happy to leave Susie in your care.’
Rosalind hunched a shoulder, suspecting Freddie was right, albeit for the wrong reasons. Leo might not willingly allow Susie to remain with a woman such as he clearly believed her to be, but surely he had relinquished any rights to a say over Susie’s future by failing to keep his appointment with the vicar.
But why did he fail to send an apology? That small, doubting voice would not be silenced, offering a fragile straw of hope to which she clung. It seemed so very out of character.
Could he be ill? Her heart skipped a beat. What if he has met with an accident?
She leapt to her feet.
‘Ros?’
Freddie’s voice penetrated Rosalind’s surge of panic, which had been foolishly laced with hope. Foolishly because, she realised—her heart sinking in tandem with that irresistible burst of energy that had assailed her—Leo’s non-appearance did not alter what had happened yesterday, or his coldness afterwards.
‘Ros? What is it? You are as pale as can be. Are you ill?’
Freddie was by her side, loosely grasping her arm. She’d been so caught up in her thoughts she had not even noticed him move. She shook all thought of Leo from her head and smiled at her brother, quick to soothe his concern.
‘I am well, Freddie.’ She patted his hand. ‘Mayhap you are right about Susie. We need not make a decision yet. Let us see what tomorrow might bring. Now, if you have no need of me, I shall go for a short ride. Kamal needs exercise and I am in need of some fresh air.’
Cinderella and the Duke Page 12