by Janet Woods
Saville Lamartine called out. ‘May I enter?’
Graine nodded to the maid, who opened the door to allow the earl entry. He’d changed into dry breeches and hose. His shirt was open at the neck, and over it he wore an embroidered waistcoat. His long legs carried him to the bed, where he sat and scrutinized her face.
Her cheeks heated under that intense gaze of his. ‘Why are you looking at me, thus?’
‘Now the mud has been washed off you appear younger than I’d been led to expect.’
‘I expect the candlelight flatters me.’
‘Your hair has sunlight threaded through it.’
Graine’s hands went to her cheeks. ‘Now, you’re being too personal, sir.’
‘It was a statement of fact, not an inappropriate compliment, though I must admit it was more on the poetic side than is usual with me.’ He grinned at the thought. ‘I’ve come to make sure you’re comfortable and have everything you need.’ He turned to the companion. ‘Jessie, have you found something for Miss Adams to wear in the morning?’
‘Yes Sir. Lady Charlotte left several garments behind when she departed for Kent.’
So, the earl was married. ‘You’ve been very kind. I hope your wife won’t mind me borrowing her clothes.’
‘The clothes belong to my sister.’ There was something mocking about his smile, as if he knew her remark was more than casual query. He wasn’t going to satisfy her curiosity, however, leaving the specifics of the query hanging in the air. ‘You shall have your own clothes before too long.’
‘But I have no money with which to pay for them.’
‘John will settle things up from your dowry, no doubt.’
How careless of her to forget already. She must pay more attention to her role else this man would soon expose her lie. He was no fool. ‘Oh, yes, of course.’
There was an awkward silence for a moment, broken when the dog pattered across the floor. Placing his head on the bed, he stared at her. The whole of his body wagged with his tail and his rough eyebrows operated independently, going up and down with each movement of his eyes.
She laughed and fondled the rough head. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Rebel.’
‘He doesn’t look very rebellious, to me.’
‘Looks can be deceiving.’ Saville rose. ‘The carriage driver has asked me to convey his thanks to you. I’ve strapped his shoulder and the bone will mend before too long.’ He took her scarf from his waistcoat pocket and dangled it from his finger. ‘He asked me to return this.’
When she held out her hand for it he chuckled and returned it to his pocket. ‘It’s covered in mud. I’ll have it laundered before I return it. Now we have you clean and looking more the lady, we must try and keep you that way. Good night, Miss Adams. Sweet dreams.’
He strode off, leaving behind him the lingering aroma of soap. Rebel went to follow after his master, then changed his mind, came back and hauled himself on to the bed. He curled up on the end with a dog-deflating sigh of bliss, which turned out to be short-lived.
‘Reb, I trust you haven’t made yourself comfortable on Miss Adams’ bed!’ Coming from somewhere in the corridor, the statement was followed by a sharp whistle.
The animal’s eyebrows waggled, he gave a grumbling sigh, then unfolded himself on to the floor and trotted reluctantly off after his master.
Graine giggled.
Sleep came not long after. It was a novelty to be in a bed that didn’t move beneath her, to be surrounded by walls that didn’t creak, crack or strain with every movement. It was wonderful that the air was so dry and warm when the inhospitable wind hurled slashing rain against the windows.
‘I know you’d understand why I’ve done this, dearest Evelyn,’ she said sleepily, ‘But I do wish you’d picked a less worthy man than John for a mate. Someone like Saville Lamartine would have suited me so much better.’
* * * *
Saville found it hard to sleep. Sprawled on a chair in front of the fire he gazed into the glowing embers and growled. ‘Damn the girl!’
He hadn’t expected someone quite so spirited, so exquisite, or so wealthy, to have remained unattached for so long. And what did it say of his cousin’s taste regarding feminine attributes, for John to have accepted a woman so negatively described by her guardian?
Theodore Chambers must either have been blind, or a misogynist by nature, for he’d written, Evelyn is plain, awkward, a dull conversationalist but virtuous and obedient. Chambers had made her sound like a carthorse.
Why, he was quite taken by her. She was delicious, a delectable morsel, a provocation of desirable femininity. And she was promised to his cousin, a worthy fellow, but the very epitome of establishment. Saville told himself; John would crush the light from her. And if he didn’t, Aunt Harriet would.
‘And to think I arranged the marriage for John after I turned a match with her down,’ he fumed. ‘I should have gone to Antigua and inspected the little baggage, first-hand. No, I must write to John and tell him she’s unsuitable for him, after all.’
But perhaps he should consider his options first. It wouldn’t be fair to Evelyn to withdraw her expectations of a decent marriage and family, especially since he’d pushed John into the deal in the first place. And he must remember his cousin needed her dowry whilst he didn’t, which was why John had agreed to the scheme in the first place.
Saville grinned as he recalled her muddy appearance. She’d been caked in slime from head to toe, her eyes gleaming through it like angry little wasps. Her temper tantrum had made him laugh, until he’d begun to realize what she’d been through, and how close to collapse she’d been. She was a plucky little thing, too, bringing the carriage in when she was too slight to handle such horses. Or was she just foolhardy! She certainly didn’t fit into his expectations of Miss Evelyn Adams.
He frowned. He was thinking of her too much when he should be sleeping. Snuffing the candle, he dropped his robe to the floor and strolled naked across to his bed.
Soon he began to toss and turn. He scowled when it became obvious why–he shouldn’t be thinking of Miss Evelyn Adams at all, especially when she had such a disastrous effect on his physical comfort!
When dawn came he was not sure whether he’d slept or not. He opened one eye and stared out of the window. The sky was a solid sheet of pewter threatening more rain–or even snow. ‘To hell with it,’ he said, and turning over, went back to sleep.
Chapter Two
Although Graine was up at the crack of dawn, the maid assigned to her was earlier. Already, the energetic Jessie had stirred life into the embers of the fire and added fuel. She was an expert with the needle and thread, it seemed. Lying over the back of the chair was a gown of pale green taffeta and a velvet over-bodice the color of moss.
‘Miss Charlotte never did take to this gown, said it was too plain,’ Jessie chatted, pulling a warm flannel chemise over her head. ‘It will suit your coloring real fine. I’ve put some tucks into the waist to make it a better fit. Stockings were pulled up her legs and tied with ribbons. Her feet were slipped into brocade slippers with tiny heels. Jessie gazed dubiously at them. ‘They might be too big. I reckon we’ll have to tie ribbons around them to keep them on.’
Soon, a hairbrush was drawing sparks from her hair, Jessie’s nimble fingers fashioned it into a fat braid, drawing the sides up into a lace-trimmed round cap decorated with frills. The maid looked her over with approval in her eyes.
‘There, that be a right pretty turn out, Miss. I’ll fetch you a shawl. You’re going to feel the cold after the heat of them there foreign countries, and the fires won’t be stoked up downstairs as yet. You’ll soon get used to the cold, especially when you marry Reverend John Lamartine. A real pinchpenny, he is. But there, he’s nice enough in his own way, and I daresay he can’t afford to burn fires in all the rooms. They’re only lit at night and then only in the drawing room. A body would, like as not, freeze to death at this time of year in his home. Best you stay h
ere this winter.’
Graine’s eyes filled with dismay. The more she heard of John Lamartine, the less attractive he became. She managed a smile for the woman in the mirror. ‘You’ve made me look lovely, Jessie.’
‘There’s some that has looks and some that hasn’t, and I wouldn’t be so bold as to tell you which you be. You’re not what we was expecting, and that’s a fact.’ The woman placed her fists on her hips. ‘Jessie, says the master, just before he sent auld Tom to fetch you from the boat. Miss Evelyn Adams is a homely spinster lady, a bit past her prime and set in her ways. You make sure you treat her like a princess and make her feel good about herself.’ Jessie cackled. ‘He was fair mazed when he set eyes on you, I reckon … fair mazed.’
And fair amazed Saville Lamartine still seemed to be, for Graine learned he was still abed. Rebel was awake though, and came hurtling down the staircase after her, his nails skittering on the wooden floors as he greeted her with a variety of yelps. He twisted and turned, nose to tail and back again, in his eagerness for a pat on the back.
She obliged him for a few moments. ‘Now you can show me where to go,’ she told him, and followed after him through a maze of corridors, where he stopped to scratch on the door.
A stout woman unlatched the door, and her mouth dropped open at the sight of Graine. ‘Glory be,’ she whispered and, hastily dropping a curtsy, stood aside to let her into what proved to be the kitchen.
‘My pardon,’ Graine said, for she could see the woman was quite flustered by her sudden appearance. ‘I didn’t know quite where to go, so I followed Rebel.’
‘Come for his treat, he has.’ The cook tipped some leftover scraps into a bowl and Rebel snatched them up in quick time before giving a satisfied belch. The cook gazed silently at her for a few moments, then said hesitantly, ‘Can I get you something, miss? It’s a bit early for breakfast, though it should be ready in an hour or so in the dining hall.’
‘I should like some chocolate if you have any, Mrs um …?’ Her glance took in the blackened iron kettle, which swung gently back and forth on a hook over the fire. The spout exhaled steam in little spurts.’
‘It’s Aggie Harris, her who’s married to Tom Harris, who fetched you from Poole in the carriage. I was just going to have one myself,’
‘How is your husband?’
Aggie gave a beam of a smile. ‘All the better for you being there, Miss. The master said you have a good head on your shoulders. Instead of having the vapors like most women of his acquaintance, you did some right good doctoring. My man Tom’ll mend in the shake of a lamb’s tail if he behaves himself and keeps still.’
Graine took a seat on the bench pulled up at the scrubbed wooden table. Seating himself beside her, Rebel placed his great head in her lap and stared adoringly up at her.
Aggie laughed when she set a steaming glass of chocolate before her. ‘That there Rebel doesn’t usually take to strangers, and only minds the master’s orders. It looks as if he’s moon-struck, right enough.’
Aggie seated herself opposite and slurped her chocolate down, smacking her lips with satisfaction when she finished. She didn’t talk as much as the chattering Jessie, but thought to advise when Graine announced her intention of becoming acquainted with the garden.
‘It’s cold out, but dry underfoot if you stay to the paths. Looks like it might snow before too long. Mind you wear a cloak for warmth, there’s one hanging in the porch.’
Graine made her way back to the hall where she wrapped herself in a voluminous black cloak. Rebel pawed at the door and gazed back at her, his expression telling her to hurry up.
The cold air was a rarely experienced wonder. Her breath was exhaled in a cloud of vapor. It was a novelty, but an uncomfortable one. She followed a winding path, ending up on a cliff top. Ahead of her, a grey sea stretched to a sky so equally grey she couldn’t have distinguish where the one ended and the other began had it not been for the white curling waves.
She’d come further than she’d intended. Behind her, Rushford House was a looming silhouette against the sky. It was a pretty place, comfortably-sized and built from light colored stone, which was encroached upon by ivy in places. The windows appeared long and narrow from where she stood, a gentle arch at the apex giving them elegance. The trees had a winter grace––resembling an ironwork of patterned darkness etched stark against the sky. It shone––that sky–– exuding a faint luminosity of pearl.
She started back, Rebel making investigative and noisy forays into the undergrowth, or burying his great head up to the shoulders in a rabbit hole. He was a funny sight with his bushy rear exposed and his tail whipping back and forth with excitement. She imagined the rabbits’ surprise when his snout and eyes appeared in their cozy little burrows, and laughed.
The sound carried in the cold air like the clear tone of a bell.
Saville, almost fully clothed now, wandered to the window with his body servant in pursuit. He smiled broadly when he saw her and, raising his arms for his jacket to be slipped over his arms, said absently. ‘Now there’s a sight a man would never tire of looking at.’
‘No, My Lord,’ the servant said, grinning to himself.
Graine was nearing the house when something brushed delicately against her cheek. Gazing upwards she saw the white flakes swirling about and grinned. Snow! She’d heard of it, of course, and had learned from reading that a snowflake was little more than water frozen into ice crystals. She hadn’t realized snow was so light and pretty though, and now she could experience it for herself. Extending her tongue she collected one on the tip and drew it into her mouth. It melted in an instant.
Rebel was jumping up in the air, barking and twisting to catch the flakes in his mouth. Spreading her arms, Graine whirled and leaped about in it too, laughing. If only Evelyn was here to experience this. How she would have delighted in it.
From his position at the window Saville watched them, a smile on his face. She looked like an excited child. Then she noticed him. Coming to a sudden stop, she drew the cloak around her and hurried towards the house, the dog at her heels.
Quickly going downstairs, Saville intercepted her in the hall. Snowflakes were melting in her hair. She shrugged, her smile uncertain. ‘I’ve never seen snow before. It’s pretty.’
‘If it’s prolonged and heavy we’ll be marooned at Rushford for weeks.’
‘I shan’t mind that. It’s beautiful here.’
He grinned. ‘Yesterday you described it as a grey, wet bog.’
‘That was yesterday. Yesterday, I was tired and I indulged in a childish temper tantrum. Quite rightly, you set me firmly in my place. There, I have admitted it.’ The amusement in his eyes was hard to hide, and she gave a delightfully soft giggle that made the hair on his nape prickle. ‘May I remind you that you paid me back by allowing me to fall flat on my face.’
‘Quite unintentionaly, I assure you. How are your knees this morning?’
‘Perfectly well, thank you.’ She allowed him to take the cloak, which he handed to a hovering servant. His glance touched on the green gown and his eyes widened a trifle. ‘Charlotte said green was too hard a color to wear, but you look exquisite in it.’
Her cheeks flamed, but she didn’t draw attention to it by shielding it with her hands. ‘You’re embarrassing me, sir.’
‘Ah, you are not used to receiving compliments, I see. There must be something the matter with men in the West Indies to let a jewel of your ilk slip through their fingers.’
‘Please remember I’m promised to your cousin,’ she almost pleaded, which was something Saville found hard to do, since the depths of her eyes cupped a liquid amber warmth and her mouth had an irresistible softness to it. All he had to do was lean forward a little to steal a kiss.
As if sensing his intention, Rebel pushed between them. The damned dog has fallen instantly in love with her, too, Saville thought wryly.
She took a step back, looking almost as rueful as he felt.
‘I will dispatch a
message to my sister, asking her to return and act as your chaperone.’ In the meantime he must learn to control himself. His expression became a fraction less personal as he held out an arm to her. ‘You do well to remind me off my place, Miss Adams. Allow me to escort you into breakfast. You must be hungry after your exercise.’
Graine was hungry. She ate a small bowl of oatmeal followed by a coddled egg and a slice of ham. Afterwards, she spread a slice of bread with creamy yellow butter and honey. Picking up the last crumb from her plate with her finger she looked up to find Saville gazing at her with a smile on his face.
‘The cold weather has made me hungry,’ she said unnecessarily.
‘Aggie likes to see justice done to her cooking, and Mr Jackson here, who always serves the breakfast and evening meal in the dining hall, will no doubt report back to her.’
Indeed, the old servant called Mr Jackson was beaming at them both in approval. ‘Thank Aggie for me,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember the last time I ate such a good meal.’
When Mr Jackson’s smile grew even wider, it occurred to Graine that all the servants working in this house seemed happy. Her glance came back to Saville Lamartine, handsomely attired in black breeches and jacket, and with a pearl grey waistcoat buttoned over an immaculate shirt and stock.
He rose a little higher in her estimation. When Graine had worked for Theodore Chambers, the man who’d been Evelyn’s guardian, he’d been an absolute tyrant. The man had kept her working from dawn to midnight, and treated her with disdain when she was not in company with Evelyn, going so far as to cuff her on occasion. The only reason Graine hadn’t walked out was because of her relationship with––and her love for–– her half-sister. She’d never told Evelyn of her ill treatment at his hands.
Saville’s chair scraped over the floor as he stood up. ‘You’ll have to excuse me, Miss Adams. You need a wardrobe, and I should start out for town before the snow becomes heavier, otherwise I might not be able to get back.’