He walked away. But he walked away blind. He saw nothing until a young woman stumbled, putting a hand on his chest to save herself. He grabbed her by the elbows.
‘Oops, sorry, Your Lordship,’ she slurred. She flung her arms around his neck and he barely avoided her planting her lips on his.
‘Who are you?’ he asked, frowning. She was obviously inebriated. He steadied her, then set her back on her feet a little distance from him.
‘I be Kitty, Your Lordship. I work at the Green Man.’
He didn’t recognise her, despite the fact he’d called into the tavern for a pint on a couple of occasions, since the one thing his cousin had not collected was good-quality ale. She looked to be about nineteen or so. ‘I think you should sit down, Miss Kitty.’
O’Cleary appeared at his elbow, taking charge of the young woman in a most territorial way. ‘Feeling a bit under the weather, are you, Miss Kitty?’ he said solicitously, putting an arm around her shoulders. ‘I think maybe I should see you home.’
Ethan glared at him. ‘Not taking advantage of the young lady, are you, O’Cleary?’
‘Not at all, me lord.’ O’Cleary gave him a cheerful grin. ‘I’m making sure those who gave Miss Kitty here too many swigs from their flasks aren’t going to take advantage.’
Ethan frowned, then realisation dawned. ‘She’s the reason you spend so much time at the Green Man.’
O’Cleary winked.
Well, damn. O’Cleary had never been what Ethan would call a lady’s man, but judging by his expression when he looked at Miss Kitty, that might well be about to change. ‘Well, go on. Get her home safe and sound.’
O’Cleary saluted and put his arms around the girl’s waist, whispering something in her ear as he walked away. Apparently, whatever he said found favour with the girl, for she leaned her head against his shoulder.
Ethan had no doubts that Miss Kitty would be safe. In his own rough way, O’Cleary was also a gentleman.
He glanced over to where Petra was seated. All that remained on the bench was a neatly folded blanket. Had she seen what had happened with Kitty and assumed the worst? He did not want her thinking he was the sort of man who would take advantage of a girl out of her wits with drink.
Marguerite was still chatting with the ladies from the church so Petra could not have gone far. She’d likely be back in a few minutes. He turned at the postmaster’s greeting.
‘Good evening, Barker. Mrs Barker.’
The lady dipped a curtsy. He supposed he’d get used to all this bowing and scraping one day. ‘Thank you for a lovely evening, Your Lordship,’ she said. ‘It is getting late. Time I took the little one home.’ She gestured to the child clinging to her skirts. ‘I don’t remember when the village had such a good Guy Fawkes Night, truly I do not.’
‘I am delighted you think so.’
She beamed. ‘So nice not to be forever starting and jumping at the squibs being thrown. And the fireworks were wonderful. I never saw anything so fine, truly I did not. Let us hope we can make it an annual event.’
Good Lord, it seemed he’d started a tradition. Or Petra had. He glanced back to her seat.
Still not there.
His heart gave a horrible lurch. Had something happened to her?
Chapter Fifteen
Petra lay on the grass looking up at the stars. She’d noticed them on her way back from taking care of a call of nature at the conclusion of the fireworks. And as a way to recover from that soft kiss Ethan had pressed on her lips.
It must never happen again. He’d known it, too. The pain of recognising that brief touch of his lips to hers as the end of their relationship had sent her wandering off the moment he left her side. Soon he would marry and rejoin the army. Perhaps once he was out of the country, she would be able to regain some peace. Her heart twisted painfully. How could she ever do that? She would worry about him every single day he was risking his life. Hopefully, in time, she would be able to put him out of her heart, but seeing him tonight, talking with him as if there had never been anything between them, had been difficult to say the least.
She forced her gaze up into the firmament, tried to focus on the vastness above her as a way to redirect her racing mind. She recalled how she and her siblings had crept out on a clear night just like this one when Red had pointed out the constellations with all the authority of an elder brother. She had been very young and she remembered little of his lecture. She did, however, recognise the Milky Way.
Would it appear the same to Ethan in Portugal? How hard he had worked to learn about the estate these past few weeks. And he had an excellent manner with the villagers. Friendly but firm. They would, in time, come to trust him to be fair with them. He would make an excellent earl. If he returned. A hollowness filled her stomach. So many men did not return from the war. She closed her eyes briefly. She would not think of that.
The patch of sky above her went dark.
‘Are you all right?’ a worried voice asked.
She came up on her elbows. ‘Ethan? Oh, you gave me a start.’ Dash it all, she should have guessed he would seek her out when he did not see her at the fire. Being alone with him was the last thing she needed right now.
‘Did you fall?’ he asked. The concern in his voice caused her heart to clench painfully. Why could he not see she came here to be alone? To get her feelings under control. He could not understand, precisely because he did not have those same feelings as she did.
She blinked away the moisture dimming her vision. She would not cry. Their affair was over and that was that.
‘I was on my way back to the fire and stopped to look at the stars.’
He sank down beside her and tipped his head back. ‘How clear it is. We will have frost tomorrow morning, I fear.’
She forced a laugh. It sounded brittle even to her own ears. She had to end this and quickly. ‘You sound like a proper farmer now.’ She sat up, preparing to rise.
He chuckled. ‘Soldiers also keep an eye out for the weather, I can assure you.’
‘I suppose they must. It is a hard life, yet you miss it.’
‘It is all I have known since I was little more than a lad.’ He sounded wistful.
She didn’t want to talk about his return to the army. She would end up begging him not to go. She did not want him guessing at the depths of her feelings for him. He might feel under some sort of obligation to offer for her again. She really could not bear another of his cool proposals. She pointed upwards and grabbed for a faint memory. ‘Isn’t that Ursa Minor? I seem to remember it had a bright star at the top.’
‘Yes. Polaris.’ He pointed and his finger traced a line. ‘And there is the Plough.’
She gazed up. ‘The vastness makes one feel quite insignificant.’
He lay back. ‘Yes, it does.’
Oh, no, him joining her out here was not what she intended at all. ‘Oh, my lord, Marguerite. She will be wondering where I am.’ She began to rise.
He touched to her shoulder. ‘About just now. That girl.’
She froze. ‘What girl?’
‘You didn’t see her?’ He hesitated. ‘One of the girls from the Green Man threw herself into my arms a few minutes ago beside the fire. I didn’t want you to think there was anything untoward going on.’
A chill travelled outwards from her chest. That was just the sort of excuse she always heard from Harry.
Not my fault. I only stopped to help. She kissed me. It meant nothing.
She shook off his hand and scrambled to her feet. ‘I have no idea what you are talking about and whatever happened between you and a tavern girl is certainly none of my business.’
He stood up beside her. ‘That wasn’t why you left the fire and went wandering in the dark?’ He sounded confused.
‘What you do and who you do it with is none of my concern.’
He stepped back. ‘I—No, of course not. I beg your pardon for thinking it might be.’
His cool response stung. But then she had snapped at him the way she never would have dared snapped at Harry, who would have gone off in a sulk for days. Ethan, on the other hand, simply sounded calm and matter-of-fact. Uninterested.
‘The fire is dying and people are leaving. It is time I went home.’
He gazed towards the fire, not looking at her. ‘Allow me to send you home in my carriage.’
‘That will not be necessary.’ She did not want to be under any sort of obligation to him. Men. They were all the same. Why had she thought he was any different? She should have known better than to let him worm his way into her heart. Apparently, she had learned nothing from her marriage. Thank heavens she had turned down his proposal. If only it didn’t hurt quite so much, then she could be truly grateful.
‘Then at least allow me to escort you back to your sister.’ The indifference in his voice sent a shiver down her spine.
‘As you wish.’
They walked back in a silence so fraught with tension she wanted to scream.
The Guy was nothing but ashes in a fire that had dwindled to a glowing heap of embers. With the food and the beer all gone, the villagers were drifting away in little groups.
‘Thank you for a lovely evening, my lord,’ Petra said as good manners dictated and honestly, up until the last half an hour, she had enjoyed it immensely. She wasn’t one to deny credit where it was due.
He bowed formally and aided them into the trap. The journey home seemed a great deal longer than usual and the wind had the cold bite of looming winter.
* * *
Compton’s ploughman, Martin Mudge, arrived ready for work the morning after the bonfire. A quiet man with a straw gripped between his teeth, which waggled in front of his face when he spoke. Most distracting as Mudge happily shared his knowledge about ploughs, horses and how to keep a row straight and at the right depth.
* * *
For the next two days, Ethan learned all he could. On the third day Mudge let him handle the reins on his own. His back and arms ached from the efforts of the previous two days, when he’d had a hard time controlling both the horses and the plough, but he was determined to continue. Fortunately today, it seemed he had mastered it, somewhat, and with a feeling of satisfaction, he guided the horses across the width of the field, turned them and started back down under Mudge’s watchful gaze.
The work did not keep Ethan’s mind off the way Petra had turned from warm to frigid in a heartbeat at the bonfire. It had hurt. Perhaps he should not have mentioned the girl, but how could he not? Even if Petra had not seen the way the girl had hung about his neck, she would have learned of it, eventually. Nothing passed unnoticed or uncommented upon by the village gossips. It was the same in the army. The men loved to talk and whisper about anything and everything. When they were in camp for the winter there was little else to do.
Too bad Miss Kitty hadn’t fallen into O’Cleary’s arms instead of Ethan’s. If she had...
Ah, well. There was no point playing what ifs. Petra had assumed the worst of him, the way his father had always assumed the worst. There would be no pleasing a woman like her and it was as well to discover her true nature before he did something stupid like proposing to her again. God help him, she might have accepted, too, if it were not for little Miss Kitty.
He certainly had not expected her to immediately judge him guilty of some wrongdoing. His father always had and his mother had always taken Father’s part. Not that Ethan blamed his mother for that. Father had had a wicked temper. For years, Ethan hadn’t stood up to him either. Until that last time Father had lashed out.
His father had not realised just how much Ethan had grown that summer. He’d gone from a weedy fourteen-year-old to a strapping lad of fifteen summers in the blink of an eye.
Tired of the bullying, Ethan had lost his temper and struck back. He’d landed a solid blow. Enough to put Father on his back. Father had at first looked shocked and then furious.
Ungrateful bastard! his father had yelled at him.
The usual feelings of guilt assailed Ethan. And the wish that he could have found a better way of settling his differences with Father. A way that would have brought them closer together. Instead, he’d lost his temper. He had made sure never to do that again. He’d even apologised. But Father had stormed out of the house and Mother had blamed Ethan for the contretemps.
It had struck Ethan then that the only way to get along with his parents was to do his best never to put a foot wrong, never to have opinions of his own or to be anything but perfect. And perfect was something he could never be. Not in his father’s eyes anyway.
He’d retreated into silence. Speaking only when spoken to and doing what he was told, no less, no more. He’d been miserable and confused.
A few days later, his uncle came for a visit. His uncle had been a jolly fellow with lots of stories of high jinks from his army days. Ethan expressed interest in the service and his uncle had offered to buy him a cornetcy in the infantry. Ethan had leaped at the chance to leave home.
Much later he had learned that the offer of a commission was his mother’s idea. He never knew if it was because she’d wanted to help Ethan or because she simply didn’t want Father upset ever again. He’d never cared enough to ask while she was alive and now it was too late.
He shrugged. He doubted he’d like the answer. The army had been the best thing that ever happened to him, despite the risks. And now the army was no longer an option, he was determined to make a go of managing his lands.
He plodded on, up and down, letting his mind go where it would until they reached the other side of the field. It was done.
He dropped the reins and gave the rump of the nearest shire a good solid pat. The rows of heavy soil, curling like ocean waves spread out before him, gave him a feeling of accomplishment. It reminded him of the first time he’d got a company of raw recruits to finally march in unison.
Compton’s ploughman grinned at him around his straw. ‘We’ll make a farmer of you yet, my lord.’
A band seemed to tighten around his chest. Petra had said something similar when they were looking at stars and he had thought about proposing to her again. And then, like an idiot, he had tried to explain what had happened with little Miss Kitty. Just like his parents, Petra had turned on him as if Kitty’s actions had been his fault.
Damn it. He should have known better than to attempt to trust anyone, no matter how close they had once been.
He glanced down the rows. No, they were not perfect. Just like him. ‘I need a bit more practice.’
‘I ain’t never seen anyone get the hang of ploughing as fast as you, my lord.’
That was something, he supposed. ‘You’ll be heading back to the Compton estate this evening, I gather.’
‘Yes, my lord. We also has a couple more fields to turn over and they can’t wait.’
‘I’ll send Lord Compton a note of thanks for his help, if you would be so good as to deliver it. Having you here has been invaluable.’ He gave the man a coin.
The old fellow grinned, touched his forelock and was soon on his way. Ethan bade him farewell and led the horses to their stable.
Entering the house through the kitchen door, intending to scrub some of the filth off himself in the scullery, Ethan found O’Cleary dressed, ready to go out.
‘It’s cook’s day off,’ O’Cleary announced. ‘She left a cold roast in the pantry and there’s soup on the hob. I thought I’d go to the pub for a bite to eat, if that suits you, my lord.’
‘Very well. I’ll help myself.’
‘Yes, sir. By the way, the carter arrived with some of the furniture you selected from the town house. I had him put it in the barn. I’ll get a couple of lads from the village to help move it inside tomorrow. Mean
time, I put your desk and a sofa in the study. Mail is on the desk.’ He rattled the information off at great speed.
Ethan nodded.
‘Is there anything else I can get for you, my lord?’
O’Cleary clearly wanted to be off. ‘No, thank you. Give my regards to Miss Kitty.’
His friend grinned shyly. ‘That I will.’ He shot off.
Oh, good lord, the man was besotted. Well, he wished him good luck. He just hoped he wouldn’t lose him. He’d lost too many people in his life and O’Cleary was one of the better ones.
Along with Petra. He stilled. Where had that thought come from? She’d shown herself to be like every other woman in his life, hadn’t she? Hot one minute, then cold the next and without a scrap of caring for him as a person. She certainly didn’t want him for a husband.
Ethan stripped off, washed in the scullery sink and, after putting on his dressing gown, ate his supper at the kitchen table. He was starving after working all day in the fields. He hacked hunks off the loaf of bread and dipped them in the soup. He even polished off most of the roast beef. Thoroughly replete, he wandered into his study.
A pile of mail sat in the centre of his new desk.
Thank heavens there had been no woodworm at the town house. He’d been able to keep the plainest pieces for his own use and still had plenty left to sell.
He sorted through the mail. The duns he put to one side. He would deal with those in the morning. He was left with two. One from his man of business and the other in a feminine hand that looked vaguely familiar.
He opened it.
The more he read, the heavier the food in his belly seemed to become. At the end of reading the missive from Lady Frances, his elderly cousin removed by several degrees, he closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair.
Damn her.
She complained that he hadn’t let her know he was planning a visit to London or she would have cut short her visit to Bath to meet him there. However, now she was back in town, she had arranged a party to introduce him to the family and to present him with several choices for a bride. The woman arrogantly stated she intended to see him wed and with an heir and a spare before she died.
An Earl for the Shy Widow Page 20