‘Then of course Sam may go with you, as long as he is home before dark.’ Sam’s mouth opened to argue and she lifted her finger. ‘Before dark, Sam. Promise me.’
With an audible sigh he nodded. The next moment the boys had disappeared and she heard them whooping and laughing as they ran down the steps and off through the village. She stood for a moment, enjoying the silence. She never worried when the two boys were together. Jem was a little older than Sam and built on sturdier lines. He had always protected Sam from the older boys in the village, who tended to bully him, and since Jem had lost his father the boys had become even closer, united in their common plight.
The little schoolroom was situated above the north porch of the parish church, and when Rose was alone the peace of the building settled around her like an old but comfortable cloak. However, it was not enough to keep out the cold and she shivered. With winter approaching it would soon be time to bring out the old brazier to heat the schoolroom. She must remember to speak to the churchwarden about it.
Rose locked the schoolroom door and descended the stone steps built at the side of the porch. She walked slowly through the graveyard, but at the gate she stopped. She should go home, Mama would be expecting her, but to her left the track wound upwards through the ancient woods and on to the moor. Surely there was time for a short walk? A carriage rattled along the high street, distracting her. She quickly turned back, but it was only Farmer Ansell’s son in his new gig.
Who else should it be? Rose asked herself. Restlessly she set off up the hill into the woods. She declined to answer her own question. It was nearly ten months since she had seen Sir Lawrence Daunton, but there was not a day that she had not thought of him, nor a morning that she did not wake up and wonder if today he might travel to Mersecombe to find her.
Her short sojourn at Knightscote haunted her dreams. It did no good to tell herself that it was for the best. Upon her return to Mersecombe she had given her family and friends to understand that she had been stranded at some remote farmhouse. It had taken all her tact and skill to persuade Evans to corroborate her tale and for some time she had been torn between hope and dread that Sir Lawrence might turn up and give the lie to her story. When the snows had cleared two weeks later and Evans reassured her that he had made enquiries and learned that Knightscote was now empty once more, she was surprised at the depth of her disappointment. She tried to be glad there was now no possibility of meeting up with Sir Lawrence again, but sometimes, when the children were being particularly troublesome or she was yawning behind her fan at some tedious party, she longed for him to arrive and carry her off.
‘Romantic nonsense!’
She uttered the words aloud as she strode along, her skirts dragging on the long grass. Sir Lawrence was not some fairy-tale prince who would carry her off to live happily ever after. He was a rake. A libertine. He might well run off with her; he might even make her forget the world for a short while, but then there would be nights of uncertainty when he did not come home, tears and recriminations and the certain knowledge that she would have to share him with every other female who caught his eye.
‘Never!’
She stopped. She had reached the edge of the wood and she could see the moors ahead of her, the bracken glowing reddish-orange in the sunlight. She dared not go further. The sun was already low in the sky and her mother would be worried, just as she worried about little Sam.
Rose turned back.
By the time she reached the church again the sun had gone down and the air was filled with a faint haze and the scent of wood smoke. She saw a figure at the church gate, a stocky, thickset man in a brown riding jacket and tall hat. He was standing at the entrance to the churchyard, feet spread, hands behind him, as if waiting for someone.
Rose stifled a cowardly impulse to dive into the bushes and wait for him to go. Instead she fixed her smile and said brightly, ‘Magnus! Have you been waiting for me?’
He swept off his hat, displaying ordered brown curls.
‘I had business in Minehead which took longer than anticipated, so I was too late to catch you in the schoolroom, but since I had come from the high street I knew I could not have missed you. However, if you had not appeared in the next five minutes I would have gone home.’
If only she had walked a little further up the track! Rose chided herself for the thought and, to make up for her churlishness, tucked her hand into his arm.
‘Well, I am here now, so you may walk me back to Bluebell Cottage.’
‘Have you thought what you will wear for the Assembly?’
‘Good heavens, Magnus, that is weeks away! I have not given it a thought.’
He gave a ponderous little laugh. ‘I would like to be prepared; I want to present you with a corsage to match your gown and you know how difficult it is to find flowers in the dead of winter.’
She had a sudden unreasoning urge to announce she was going to wear the brightest, most vivid scarlet gown she could find. Instead she said, ‘How kind you are, Magnus. It will most likely be my midnight blue.’
‘What, are you not having a new gown? My sister Althea has ordered another, I saw it this morning. I thought it was the usual practice for all you ladies to have a new gown for every occasion.’
‘I am sure it is, if one has unlimited funds!’ She immediately regretted her snappish retort and squeezed his arm. ‘I beg your pardon, Magnus. I know you were only funning.’
‘And you know I would buy you a dozen gowns, if you would let me.’ He stopped. ‘Let us put an end to this dilly-dallying, Rose. Even without a special licence we could be wed before Christmas.’
‘Magnus, I have explained to you why I cannot marry you yet.’
‘You are concerned for young Samuel, I know that, and I understand why you cried off in the spring, but to postpone it for a whole year—’
‘You have been very patient, Magnus. It is only a few more months.’
‘Sometimes I wonder if you have changed your mind, what with the losses I suffered when the Sealark went down…’
‘That is unjust,’ she cried. ‘My decision to postpone the wedding was taken months before you lost the Sealark. And besides, I would never allow such a misfortune to weigh with me!’
‘Of course, and I beg your pardon.’ He stopped to press a kiss upon her fingers. ‘Forgive me, the whole affair is preying upon my mind—until the insurers pay out for the loss of the ship and the cargo I cannot honour my promissory notes to the crew!’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I fear it is making me very bad company.’
‘Not at all, I understand your concerns. I am only thankful that more lives were not lost in the accident. But that has nothing to do with my decision that we should delay our marriage.’
‘Then it is solely to do with your son.’
‘Yes.’ Rose was relieved that he did not notice the heartbeat’s hesitation before she responded.
He said heavily, ‘In my opinion you refine too much upon the wishes of that young man! Once we are married he will soon learn to respect me.’
‘But I do not want him to do so out of fear! Be patient, Magnus, please.’
‘Well, if you will not agree to our marriage, then at least let me help you open up the mine at Hades Cove. I am sure it is not so unprofitable as you have been led to believe.’
She put up her hand.
‘My dear, we have been over this before. My late husband poured a vast amount of our money into the mine. I will not allow you to do the same.’
‘But once we are wed it will become my property.’
Rose smiled up at him mischievously. ‘Ah, yes, well, then you will be master of everything and may do as you please!’ She sighed. ‘Let us not argue. Tell me instead about your sister’s new gown. Is she having it made up in Minehead?’
‘No, there is an excellent modiste in Dunster who has all the latest London pattern books. She showed me a drawing. Too many frills and flounces for my taste, but there you are, Althea says it is the lates
t thing. And you know Althea likes to keep up with fashion.’ He chuckled. ‘As my sister she knows she must set the standard, even at a little local gathering such as the Mersecombe Assembly!’
Rose smiled absently, her mind wandering to more anxious matters.
‘I wonder if Sam is home yet,’ she murmured, almost to herself. ‘I gave him permission to go to the Woolers Farm, but told him he must come home before dark.’
They had reached the little bridge that led across the stream to Bluebell Cottage and Magnus stood back to allow Rose to precede him.
‘Then I have no expectation of seeing the boy before midnight.’
She shook her head, saying over her shoulder, ‘You know that generally he minds me very well, Magnus.’
She had reached the cottage, but stopped as she al ways did to admire the little rosemary bush growing beside the door before she stepped into the hall.
She allowed Magnus to take her cloak, then turned to smile at him. ‘I hear voices. You see, he is home before me.’
Rose walked across and opened the sitting-room door, her smile freezing on her face when she found herself looking into the intensely blue eyes of Sir Lawrence Daunton.
‘Sir Lawrence!’ Magnus followed Rose into the room, his hearty tone quite at odds with the paralysing shock she was suffering. ‘Good heavens, man, what are you doing here?’
‘You know each other?’ asked Mrs Molland, who was standing with her arm on Sam’s shoulder and beaming at Sir Lawrence, delighted to have such a charming gentleman in her house.
‘Aye, ma’am. We met at the Pullens’ ball.’
Three weeks ago! Rose put a hand on the back of a nearby chair to steady herself. He had been at Knightscote for three weeks and she had not known!
Magnus turned to Rose, saying in a slightly aggrieved tone, ‘You may recall, my dear, that upon my persuasion Lady Pullen sent you an invitation, but you chose not to go.’
‘And you may recall that it fell upon a week-night and I was obliged to be up betimes to open the schoolhouse,’ Rose answered coolly. ‘If I had accompanied you, it would have meant you returning home at an unseasonably early hour and Althea would not have liked that.’
‘No, no, you are right there,’ he conceded, pursing his lips and looking a little thoughtful before turning back to Sir Lawrence. ‘But what brings you to Mersecombe, sir?’
Rose was acutely conscious that Sir Lawrence’s gaze had been fixed on her, but now he shifted his attention to the questioner.
‘I heard about the pointer puppies for sale at Woolers Farm.’ His eyes flickered across Rose again as he moved his gaze to Sam. ‘This young man was there and helped me make my choice. Then, as it was growing dark, I asked him to show me the way back to the Ship.’
‘Sir Lawrence allowed me to ride on his horse with him,’ declared Sam, his eyes shining.
‘It was the least I could do, since you were good enough to guide me. And once we had stabled the horse I thought I should come along and explain why Sam was late…’
‘You—you are staying in Mersecombe?’ stuttered Rose.
The blue eyes once more rested on her face.
‘Yes. I have more business here tomorrow, Mrs…’
‘Oh, heavens, where are my wits?’ cried Mrs Molland. ‘This is my daughter, sir. Mrs Westerhill. Samuel’s mother.’
Should she admit they had met before? Would he say anything? He was bowing, no sign of recognition in his face. Rose tried to think clearly. Perhaps it was coincidence. No. Even her befuddled brain could not believe that. He would not have forgotten her in ten months—would he?
‘Sir Lawrence is having first pick of the litter,’ Sam piped up. ‘Of course they are too young yet and will not be taken from their mother until they are weaned, but Jem says they don’t have buyers for them all. Could we have a puppy, Mama?’
Sam was looking up at her. She tried to concentrate on what he had said, tried to put out of her mind the fact that Lawrence was here, in her home, filling her sitting room and her senses with his presence.
‘Please, Mama…it would be company for Grandmama!’
The childish logic caused a ripple of amusement.
‘I have plenty to occupy me without adding a dog to the family, Sam,’ laughed Mrs Molland, ruffling his hair.
‘It is out of the question,’ declared Magnus. ‘If Mrs Molland truly requires a pet, she should consider a little lapdog. You do not have room here for a pointer.’
‘We have plenty of room,’ put in Rose, angered by his calm assumption of authority. ‘But I’m afraid we cannot have a puppy just at the moment.’
The look of disappointment on Sam’s face tugged at her heart and she dropped down beside him, putting her hands on his shoulders.
‘This is a bad time of year to bring home a puppy that needs so much exercise, my dear,’ she said gently. ‘Perhaps next time, when the weather is a little better and you are older.’
His lip trembled, but before he could reply Mrs Molland held out her hand to him.
‘We can talk about this more in the morning. Come along now, Sam; bid your mama and our guests goodnight and I will take you up to bed.’
Rose put her arms around him and kissed him, standing at his side as he made his bow.
‘Do not forget to thank Sir Lawrence for seeing you home,’ Magnus reminded him.
‘No, no, you have that the wrong way round,’ replied Lawrence seriously. ‘Sam showed me the way.’ He held out his hand. ‘Goodnight, Master Westerhill. I am greatly indebted to you.’
‘So, what business is it that keeps you in Mersecombe?’ enquired Magnus, when Sam and his grandmother had left the room.
The gentlemen were settling into chairs close to the fire, but Rose moved to the window seat, still trying to collect her wits.
‘Oh, this and that,’ Sir Lawrence responded vaguely. ‘I return to Knightscote tomorrow, but I shall have to come back again once Wooler sends word that the dog is weaned.’
Magnus leaned back in his chair. ‘You could send your man to collect it.’
‘I could, of course, but I enjoy finding my way about.’ He added apologetically, ‘I fear I have been far too reclusive during my previous visits to Exmoor.’
‘I do not see what you need with a dog when you are here for only a few weeks each year.’ Rose’s statement brought both men’s eyes upon her and Magnus was moved to protest. Lawrence held up his hand.
‘No, no, Emsleigh, she has a point.’ Again she was subjected to that intense gaze. ‘I have brought my keeper with me. The dog will be put into his care to be trained up, for use on whichever of my estates we are visiting.’
‘Do you plan a long stay at Knightscote, Sir Lawrence?’ asked Magnus.
Rose looked down at her hands, desperate to hear his answer.
‘That depends. I have made no firm plans yet.’
She dared not look up, afraid of what she might see in his eyes.
‘Well, sir, if you are still here at the end of October you should come to the Mersecombe Assembly,’ declared Magnus. ‘I will be able to introduce you to everyone. Not the highest society, of course, as you are used to in London, but nevertheless it will give you an opportunity to meet your neighbours. It is held at the Ship, so before you leave tomorrow you could take a look at the Assembly Room—I think you will agree it is a fine space for dancing.’
‘And will you be attending, Mrs Westerhill?’
Rose jumped as Sir Lawrence addressed her.
‘Why…yes.’
‘Then, if I am still at Knightscote, I shall look forward to seeing you there.’ He picked up his hat. ‘I must go.’
Rose jumped to her feet.
‘I shall see you out.’
Magnus immediately sat up.
‘My dear, you should ring for Janet—’
‘She will be helping Mama put Sam to bed.’ Rose went to the door. ‘This way, sir, if you please.’
The hall was blessedly free of people, but suddenly
all the questions that had been flying around in Rose’s head disappeared. All she could think of was Lawrence standing at her shoulder.
‘Do you know, I am not sure I can recall my way back to the inn?’ His low voice provoked in Rose a shiver of aching memory.
‘Nonsense,’ she retorted. ‘You walked here only a short while ago.’
‘Ah, but I was distracted by my companion’s non-stop chatter. Would you be good enough to walk a little way with me?’
Rose knew she should refuse, but she took up her cloak and threw it around her shoulders. As they stepped outside Sir Lawrence stopped and she saw that he was staring at the shrubs beside the door, illuminated by the lamp from the parlour window.
‘Rosemary,’ he muttered. ‘For remembrance.’
Rose gave a little shrug, trying to ignore the sensation of his eyes boring into her.
‘I planted it as soon as I got home. By some miracle it has survived.’
She turned away quickly, hurrying through the garden and across the stream. Once they were on the road Sir Lawrence held out his arm to her and she laid her fingers on his sleeve. Beneath the fine cloth the muscle felt reassuringly solid.
‘So you did not marry him on Lady Day.’
‘No.’
‘Because of your visit to Knightscote?’
‘Of course not.’ The denial was far too quick, unconvincing even to her own ears. ‘My son is not yet ready for a new father.’ She added, so he should be in no doubt, ‘My opinion of you is unchanged, Sir Lawrence. You should not have come in search of me.’
‘I did not. I am here on business of my own.’
‘Oh.’ Rose bit her lip, trying not to dwell upon her sense of disappointment. ‘Well, I am glad of it. I, um, I suppose I should thank you for not mentioning the fact that we have met before.’
‘Your mother was clearly unaware of it and I doubted very much if you had told Emsleigh.’
‘No indeed.’
‘So what did you tell them?’
‘They think I was stranded at one of the outlying farms.’
They had reached the crossroads and Rose stopped.
‘There.’ She pointed. ‘The Ship is just around the corner; you can see the glow from the lighted windows on the road.’
Snowbound With the Notorious Rake Page 7