About thirty minutes later. Nodding as the woman bobbed him another curtsy, Dom paced out the kitchen door and headed to the stables to order the tilbury.
* * *
Scarf around her hair to keep off the dust, an apron over her oldest gown, Theo was directing Jemmie and Maria to carry in water to wash down the grimy stone walls when she heard the rattle of a carriage and the clop of hoofbeats. Looking up, she saw a familiar tilbury approaching, and a shock of anticipation raced through her.
Her landlord, coming to inspect the alterations to his property, that was all, she rebuked herself, trying to settle her fluttering pulse. After her shameless behaviour in his library—her cheeks burned hot as she recalled how, but for some carelessly positioned books, she would have made a complete fool of herself—he’d not wish to be near her unless a number of chaperones provided protection.
She would concentrate on behaving like a proper lady and give neither of them any further occasion for embarrassment.
But she couldn’t seem to stop the thrill that ran through her as he pulled up the vehicle and she watched his lithe, broad-shouldered form climb down. A technique, she noted, he’d now mastered, swinging down on his single arm with none of the awkwardness he’d displayed on their first drive ten days ago.
Nor could she slow her accelerating heartbeat when a shock of energy flashed between them as their gazes met.
Not daring to permit his touch, she tucked her hands behind her and made a quick curtsy. ‘Good day, Mr Ransleigh.’ It is, now that I’ve seen you. ‘Have you come to check our progress, or to reclaim the carpenter I stole from you? Young Joe told me he’s doing some work in Bildenstone’s kitchen.’
‘I need to talk with him, yes. But I also wanted to see the changes you’re making.’
His tone seemed normal, friendly, with no edge of the disapproval she might have expected after he’d had time to consider her forwardness in the library—and no embarrassment, either.
Reassured, she said, ‘Young Joe has most of the partitions constructed in the sleeping loft, and is now framing out the part of the downstairs that will become kitchen and dining areas. Should you like to see them?’
‘I would, if I’ll not be taking you from your work.’
‘I’d enjoy a break from scrubbing and sweeping, and I’m sure the children will, too. Jemmie, Maria, there’s a basket in the wagon with water, cheese, and some of the apple tarts Cook made for dinner last night. Have a bite while I show Mr Ransleigh around the building.’
To her surprise, Jemmie, who normally would have set off at a run to claim apple tarts, merely stood, eyeing Ransleigh. ‘I can show him around, while you rest yourself with Maria.’
The bitterness of loss echoed within her. She appreciated Jemmie’s protectiveness—the need he apparently felt to take over from Papa. Then a less sanguine thought occurred: did Jemmie, a young male of the species, sense something between her and Ransleigh?
Devoutly hoping he could not, Theo said, ‘No, go enjoy your treat. The inspection tour will not take long.’
‘I don’t think Jemmie trusts me,’ Ransleigh murmured. ‘Perhaps you’d better assure him I won’t ravish you in the sleeping loft.’
‘I might rather assure him I won’t ravish you,’ Theo muttered, feeling herself flush. ‘Once again, I do apologise—’
‘Please, don’t!’ he interrupted, his teasing tone turned serious. ‘First, I assure you that, if circumstances permitted, I would welcome being ravished by you, and second, the...mistake in the library was mutual. An episode that, much as I regret the fact, cannot safely be repeated, so I suppose we shall both have to be on our best behaviour. See, I have not even attempted to take your hand.’
Grateful there was nothing further she was required to say, she murmured, ‘Thank you. That forbearance will lend me the courage to escort you up to the sleeping area. Though as a mercy, there aren’t yet any beds.’
His quick chuckle made her smile, too, and relax—at least, as much as she could, with every hair on her arms and neck quivering at his nearness. Forcing herself to concentrate on the building, she showed him the girls’ and boys’ sleeping areas, the sections partitioned off for washing up and for storage. Descending the stairs again, over the racket of Young Joe’s saws and hammers, she described the planned addition of two fireplaces, finishing up with the news that the stove and kitchen equipment, desks for the schoolroom, tables for the dining room, and beds for the dormitory were expected from various providers within a fortnight.
‘So, what do you think?’ she asked, dropping her voice back to normal tones after leading him back outside. ‘You approve of the alterations, I hope.’
‘I think you’ve done a wonderful job, though I would hate to estimate the cost.’
‘That’s of little consequence, as long as it turns the building into a home and school the children find welcoming. By the way,’ she recalled, thinking it might amuse him, ‘I’ve just received the first fruits—or perhaps the second, if I count my permission to call on you—of my interview with Lady Wentworth. We now have a teacher!’
‘Indeed? Who did Lady Wentworth deign to recommend?’
‘One of the charges from her institution, Helen Andrews, the orphaned niece of a retired governess who passed away, leaving the girl with no resources. Her aunt had completed her education, but being so young and without references, she’d been unable to secure a post. Lady Wentworth sent her to Thornfield; she’s quite eager to take the job. Jemmie approves, and he’s very cautious about accepting strangers.’
‘So I noticed.’
Flashing him a look, she continued. ‘Maria liked her, too. Not that she actually spoke with her, of course, but she consented to sit beside her when Helen came up to meet the children. I think she’ll do very well.’
‘When will classes start?’
‘Probably next week.’ After which time, she should be busy enough that squelching her stubborn attraction to a certain dashing neighbour should become easier. ‘As soon as the schoolroom is finished and the desks arrive. The dormitory and kitchen will not be fully functional for several weeks yet, so we’ll be bringing the children back and forth from Thornfield, but I’m anxious to have Helen begin the lessons. Travelling in the van of an army makes for a haphazard education, and I’m eager for the children to catch up.’
Since she could think of nothing further to discuss about the school, she ought to say goodbye and send Mr Ransleigh on his way. Still, protected by the presence of so many chaperones and knowing, once classes began, there would probably be few occasions to indulge in the delicious thrill of his nearness, she found herself hunting for conversational excuses to make him linger.
‘Young Joe tells me you are doing a good deal of work at Bildenstone,’ she ventured.
‘Yes, I took your advice and hired more staff—doing my bit to contribute to employment in the county. Then, since I needed to give them something to do, it seemed a good idea to begin restoring the old place to its former glory.’
‘It must be satisfying to watch it become the showpiece you remember.’
‘It’s a long way from that yet. With dusting and polish, the rooms are looking better—and the kitchen roof no longer leaks! But my favourite place is still the library. For several reasons.’
Those words drew her eyes to his face as steel to a magnet, to find him regarding her with an intensity that brought back all the mesmerising passion of that interlude. Her body heating, she gave him a little nod, silently acknowledging she remembered the episode as vividly as he did.
His molten gaze and her subtle response suddenly recalled the looks she’d exchanged with Marshall after their engagement, when they were in camp, surrounded by soldiers...smouldering, secret glances that reminded her of intimacies exchanged, promised intimacies to come.
Flustered, she shook h
er head. How ridiculous a comparison! In this case, there would be no intimacies to come. The fact that she could even erroneously connect the experiences, however, did warn her to be mindful of the strength of her attraction to Ransleigh, a passionate connection the like of which she’d not experienced since she had fallen in love with her fiancé.
This time, she’d not be able to indulge her passion.
She should only need to recall the spectacular heartbreak in which that passion ended to be thankful there would be no repetition.
Annoyed at herself for the turmoil Ransleigh seemed to provoke in her, she steered him towards his tilbury, which the stable boy was walking on the verge by a fence that divided the roadway from a field of newly sprouted wheat, the tiny plants swaying in the light spring breeze.
The younger children not being of practical use in cleaning the building, she’d had Constancia take them for a walk. The maid, Charles, Georgie and Anna approached from down the lane as she and Ransleigh reached his vehicle.
Anna ran up and held out a bouquet of wildflowers. ‘They are pretty, just like you, Miss Theo!’
‘How sweet of you, Anna,’ Theo said, accepting the gift.
Warmth filling her as it always did when she saw Charles again after an absence, no matter how brief, she drew the boy to her for a hug—which he tolerated for a moment before wriggling free.
Growing up already, she thought, releasing him with regret.
Meanwhile, Georgie had wandered to the fence. Leaning over it, he took a deep breath. ‘The dirt smells good. Not like in the cities.’
‘It’s rich, fresh earth, newly turned over so the crop could be planted,’ Ransleigh said. Gesturing towards the young plants, he added, ‘That’s wheat growing in the field. When it gets tall, it makes kernels that are ground into flour. The kind that is made into bread, not the sort Anna just picked.’
Georgie looked up at him. ‘Those little plants turn into bread?’
‘It’s a bit more complicated than that, but, yes.’
As Georgie surveyed the field, rows of plants rolling into the distance, his eyes widened. ‘There’s so much of it! We never had enough bread on the march. That there’s probly enough so’s we’d none of us ever be hungry again. Wish I had a field I could grow bread in,’ he said, his voice wistful.
‘Would you like to learn how to plough the land and grow wheat?’ Theo asked.
Georgie wrested his gaze from the field to look up at her. ‘Could I really, Miss Theo?’
Theo turned to Dom, who held up a restraining hand. ‘I know, I know. Let me check with the estate manager and see if any of the tenants would take on a young farmhand.’
Georgie looked from Theo to Ransleigh and back. ‘Do that mean I’ll get to grow the bread plants?’
‘Wheat,’ she corrected. ‘We’ll see. You’ll still need to go to school, though. Now, you must all be thirsty from your walk! There’s water and apple tarts in the wagon; Jemmie will help you get some.’
‘Apple tarts!’ Charles said, clapping his hands. ‘C’mon, Georgie, let’s go fast before Jemmie eats them all!’ The two boys pelted off, Anna and the maid following.
‘Do you really think you could arrange for one of your tenants to take Georgie under his wing?’ Theo asked. ‘I would so appreciate it.’
‘When you look at me with that appeal in your eyes, how can I refuse?’ he murmured. ‘As long as you don’t expect me to find positions for all your urchins.’
‘Of course not. But I cannot tell you how much I appreciate your kindness in looking out for them—Jemmie, and now Georgie.’ Holding up Anna’s bouquet, she laughed. ‘I suppose I should thank you for the flowers, too, since they were filched from your lane. They are beautiful.’
‘Spring is such a lovely time of year here—I’ve been away so long, I’d almost forgotten. With your school about to start, I expect you’ll soon be too busy to notice, and it would be a shame not to enjoy it. If you can spare a few hours, why don’t I drive you around the estate tomorrow? So you can say you didn’t miss the beauties of your first Suffolk springtime.’
Shirk her responsibilities for a morning, and explore the verdant paths, mossy woods and brilliant fields of wildflowers of this homeland she was just discovering? Guided through the lanes and fields by a man whose similar interests and experiences made her feel as much at ease as she’d been since losing Papa?
Theo wanted very much to accept the offer, but...being seated beside him as he drove her down deserted lanes and paused to explore bluebell woods and newly planted fields would be dangerous. As much as she felt secure with him, she’d also proven on several occasions how very strong the attraction between them was—far stronger than the rules of propriety, strong enough to lead them into disaster, if her vigilance in resisting him lapsed for even a short time.
If the treasures of an exceptional library hadn’t been enough to restrain desire, she doubted the English countryside, no matter how delightful, would succeed in distracting her from its insidious call.
She’d reluctantly decided prudence demanded she refuse the offer when an alternate solution occurred—and she pounced on it.
‘I should love to have a tour—but I’d much rather ride. Firefly could use the exercise, and surely you have something in your stable less temperamental than Diablo.’
He started to speak, then halted, looking troubled.
‘You’ve not attempted to ride any other mount, have you?’ she guessed. When, with a wry grimace, he nodded, she said, ‘Your balance is still excellent. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to ride—as long as you don’t choose a bully who’d rather bite, buck and unseat you than follow your commands.’
‘I’ve always rather enjoyed mastering those bullies who’d rather bite, buck and try to unseat me.’
‘Why not try a more amenable mount, and see if you can enjoy that, as well?’ If she could only persuade him, she’d win herself an extended ride through the countryside—a pleasure she’d not realised how much she’d missed until Ransleigh proposed this expedition. It would enable her to spend a few more precious hours in his company, stashed in a saddle a safe distance from him, the need to pay attention to her mount distracting her from the constant temptation of his nearness.
She was reasonably sure she could manage it—as long as she stayed in the saddle.
Finally, he shrugged. ‘I suppose I must try riding some time, though the prospect of mounting a slowtop doesn’t appeal.’
‘There are alternatives between a beast and a slug,’ she pointed out.
His unexpected smile was like the sudden appearance of a winter sun on snow, dazzling in its brilliance. Gracious, but he was appealing, she thought dazedly, curling her fingers into fists to keep herself from reaching out to touch him.
‘You’re right, and I should stop being churlish. Very well, I’ll give it a try. I warn you though, if I can’t abide it, I reserve the right to return to Bildenstone and fetch the tilbury.’
‘Agreed,’ she said, delighted she would have her treat. ‘But I’ll wager you won’t need to.’
‘Shall I call for you at Thornfield—about nine?’
‘Nine would be quite convenient.’
‘Until tomorrow, then, Miss Branwell.’
‘I shall look forward to it.’ More than you can imagine, she added silently.
Prudently he refrained from taking her hand, and prudently she didn’t offer it. But she felt the lack of his touch almost like a physical ache as he turned to climb up into the tilbury. She waved as he flicked the whip and the equipage set off down the lane.
After it disappeared from sight, she turned back to her buckets and brooms, savouring the knowledge that before the responsibilities of managing the school and caring for the orphans relegated her permanently into matronhood, she could look forward one las
t time to spending a few hours in the company of that attractive, witty and intriguing man.
And it had better be the last time, she warned herself. Before her growing yearning for her dazzling neighbour destroyed any chance that she could satisfy herself with a lifetime of mere contentment.
Chapter Eleven
Just before nine the next morning, Dominic Ransleigh trotted a seasoned gelding down the lane towards Thornfield Place. He’d trained this horse, too, rejecting him as a mount since the animal lacked the fiery temperament he always sought in a hunter. He would have sold him off, but the animal had a soothing effect on Diablo and the speed and endurance, if not the spirit, to match the stallion. Still, though responsive to command, he wasn’t so docile Dom felt he was riding a hobbyhorse.
A little more spirit wouldn’t have been amiss, though. Any challenge that forced him to direct his attention away from the beguiling lady he was about to meet would be helpful.
He really did want to introduce Miss Branwell to the beauty of an English spring, but she had been wise to suggest they do so on horseback, not seated in the far too intimate confines of a carriage. Somewhere along the way to recovering his strength and vitality, he seemed to have misplaced most of his good judgement and all of his powers of resistance.
At least when it came to the appeal of the unconventional Miss Branwell.
Still, he was glad she’d overcome caution and agreed to accompany him. Were she any other maiden, she’d be bringing along a maid or a groom, but Dom bet the notion of a chaperone would never occur to her. Riding alone wouldn’t be as proper, but if she met him unescorted, he certainly wasn’t going to suggest adding one to the party.
For this excursion, he wanted her all to himself. He had a strong feeling she meant to severely limit their interactions in future—and an even stronger feeling he was going to miss them acutely.
A rising excitement gripped him as he approached Thornfield Place. To his relief, Miss Branwell, sans groom, stood near the entrance, her mare on a lead. As he rode up, she climbed on to a mounting block and tossed herself into the saddle.
The Rake to Reveal Her Page 11