Snowbound With the Notorious Rake

by Sarah Mallory

  ‘Oh?’ Magnus’s brows snapped together. ‘What has Daunton to do with this?’

  ‘He was with Abel in the Ship when Maggie Wooler and I called. He rowed across the bay with Abel to collect the boys.’

  Magnus stroked his chin.

  ‘I wonder what he was doing with Wooler?’

  ‘I have no idea. All I know is that when he heard Sam was in trouble he offered to help.’ Rose clasped her hands tightly together. And they were going riding tomorrow. To cry off would seem very churlish, when he had been such a good friend.

  ‘So Daunton brought the boy back,’ Magnus continued. ‘Did he mention me, or ask you any questions about me?’

  Roes blinked.

  ‘No, why should he?’

  ‘Oh, no reason.’ He seemed to shake off his thoughtful mood and reached out for her hands, smiling. ‘I am glad little Samuel is returned unharmed, and partly for my own very selfish reasons. If he was hurt, it might have prevented you from coming to the Emsleigh ball tomorrow night.’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘Are you sure I cannot persuade you to stay at Emsleigh House after? There is no school for you to teach the following day, and you know we have rooms and to spare.’

  ‘Thank you, Magnus, but no. Mama and I will come home, as we agreed.’

  ‘Perhaps it is for the best.’ He drew her into his arms. ‘If you were to stay under my roof, I might be tempted to pre-empt our wedding night!’

  Rose stood passively while his lips met hers, waiting for the tremor of excitement, the unfurling of desire deep in her belly that she had experienced when Lawrence had kissed her, but there was nothing. In fact, she had to steel herself not to pull away. Magnus raised his head, a crease wrinkling his brow at her lack of response.

  ‘I know what it is.’ The frowning look vanished, replaced by a kindly smile. ‘You are tired and distracted by Samuel’s little escapade. I shall leave you to rest then, for I want you in your very best looks tomorrow night!’

  Sam was up early the following morning, none the worse for his adventure. Rose was relieved and amused to see him so eager for his riding treat and she allowed him to go off to the stables with Evans to saddle up the horses, promising to join them once she and Mrs Molland had broken their fast. When she did at last reach the stable yard, Rose was surprised to find Lawrence had arrived before her. He was standing in one corner, showing Sam how to make his small hands into very serviceable fists. They looked up as she approached.

  ‘I hope you are not teaching my son any bad habits, Sir Lawrence.’

  ‘On the contrary, I have been showing him how to defend himself.’

  Sam’s face cleared when he saw that Rose was smiling.

  ‘Sir Lawrence has been teaching me to box, Mama. Extra things to the punches Abel has been showing Jem.’

  She raised her brows.

  ‘Goodness, have I been so very long?’

  ‘Not only this morning,’ replied Sam in the tone of one explaining something to a simpleton. ‘He showed Jem and me some moves the other day, up at the farm.’

  Rose was not sure she was pleased to hear that, but Evans brought her mare out at that moment and she decided to let the matter drop.

  ‘I hope you do not object,’ said Lawrence, helping her to mount. ‘When Sam mentioned to me that some of the bigger boys bully him, I thought it might help.’

  Rose’s doubts eased a little.

  ‘If it gives him more confidence then I am very happy,’ she replied. ‘As long as it does not turn him into a bully.’

  ‘Very little chance of that.’ Lawrence looked across the yard to where Sam was scrambling up into the saddle. ‘His manners do you credit.’

  He could not have said anything better to Rose. Praise of her son always raised her spirits and she trotted out of the yard, convinced that they would spend a very agreeable morning.

  A bright, wintry sun beamed down upon the little party as they rode through the village, Sam proudly putting his pony through its paces with Evans riding beside him.

  ‘Playing chaperon?’ queried Lawrence, nodding towards the groom.

  ‘Yes, if you like.’ An involuntary smile curved Rose’s lips. Indeed, she felt she had not stopped smiling since rising from her bed that morning. This excursion in Sir Lawrence’s company was not only a treat for Sam.

  They rode up onto the moor. A chill wind was blowing in off the sea, scouring the hills and blowing away any warmth they might have gained from the bright winter sun.

  ‘Bracing,’ declared Rose, taking a deep breath.

  They trotted along, taking care to keep Sam close, until they reached a stretch of open ground. After a nod from Rose, Sam allowed the little pony to dash off, Evans following closely behind. Lawrence put his hand on Rose’s bridle.

  ‘Wait. Let them get ahead of us and we can enjoy a good gallop to catch up.’ Rose tightened her grip as her mare snorted and sidled. ‘She’s eager to go,’ observed Lawrence. ‘Is she fast?’

  ‘Yes, there’s a touch of Arab in her.’ She leaned forwards to pat the mare’s glossy neck and added wistfully, ‘I wish I had more time to ride her. I suppose I should not really keep the horses; they eat into my savings, but riding is my one indulgence.’

  ‘Then why not,’ said Lawrence, ‘if it means so much to you?’

  Rose was going to add that she could only afford to keep the mare because her circumstances would change when she married Magnus, but somehow she did not want to mention that. Instead she laughed and said teasingly, ‘You speak as someone who has never had to go without.’

  ‘That is not true. I have gone without a great deal this past year.’

  Colour rushed to her cheeks. The serious look in his eyes stirred a fluttering panic in her chest. Swallowing hard, Rose gathered up her reins.

  ‘I think Sam is far enough ahead now—shall we go?’

  Thankfully Lawrence said no more, but set his horse to the gallop. Rose was left to follow on and the effort to keep pace with his sleek hunter over the uneven ground took all her concentration. When they caught up with Sam and Evans, Lawrence drew rein and addressed her in such a relaxed, matter-of-fact manner that it was easy for Rose to respond in kind, and to persuade herself that his earlier comments had not been a reference to his alleged reformation of character.

  With everyone in good spirits the little party set off again.

  ‘It is like riding on the top of the world,’ cried Sam, sitting up in the saddle and gazing across the moor to the wooded hills beyond.

  Lawrence laughed. His glance slid to Rose.

  ‘Well, are you glad you came?’

  Meeting his eyes, she could not help but return his smile.

  ‘Very glad, thank you.’

  ‘Mama, Evans says that path leads to the mine at Hades Cove.’ Sam was pointing towards an overgrown track leading away to a wooded combe. ‘Can we ride down there? Please.’ He added the last word plaintively after reading a refusal on his mother’s face.

  Sir Lawrence consulted his watch.

  ‘We do have time. And I, too, should like to go down there. We saw the mine when we were rowing back from Sealham Point.’

  Rose demurred. ‘I cannot think it would be of interest.’

  ‘But, Mama!’

  Lawrence put up his hand, saying quietly, ‘We shall not go there if your mama objects, Sam.’

  ‘I do not object, exactly,’ said Rose, ‘but there is nothing to see. I have not been there for years, but I believe it is boarded up now and wildly overgrown, with only ruined buildings, spoil heaps and the remains of a few rusted wagons to be seen.’

  ‘I can think of nothing more likely to appeal to a child.’

  Lawrence’s boyish grin made her chuckle.

  ‘Children of all ages, perhaps! Very well, if you wish to ride down to Hades Cove, let us do so!’

  They wound their way down into the combe, leaving behind them the bracken and stunted gorse bushes and plunging into dense woodland, their path carpeted with fallen leaves.
At one point the track took them through a wide clearing and they could look down on Mersecombe spread below them, before dropping down into the trees again.

  ‘Someone has been this way recently,’ observed Lawrence, who was following Evans along the narrow track. ‘The grass has been trampled down in places.’

  ‘That may have been Magnus; he visited the mine not long ago,’ said Rose.

  ‘Is he in the habit of coming here?’

  ‘No, we rode here once, shortly after we met.’ She added ruefully, ‘I was out of reason cross with him when I learned of this last visit. It was very foolish of me; after all, it will all become his once we are married.’

  ‘Did he say why he had come?’

  She waved one hand in a dismissive gesture.

  ‘He believes Hades Mine could still be profitable. I do not. When my husband was alive we paid for the best surveyors and engineers to report, but Magnus thinks he knows better.’ She stopped. To air such opinions was disloyal to her future husband. With a faint, apologetic smile she relapsed into silence.

  Finally they emerged from the trees and followed the path onto a windswept promontory. Rose brought her horse to a stand.

  ‘Here we are. And, as you can see, it is nothing but a ruin.’

  She looked about her sadly. They were on a narrow, grassy shelf of land near the bottom of a steep, wooded combe. Below them was nothing but bare grey rock leading down to an equally grey sea, which tossed and eddied in the narrow cove at the mouth of the combe. The small promontory had once been a hive of industry, but only a few bleak ruins remained. The walls of a small hut were still standing, but its roof and windows had long since disappeared. Spoil heaps were now green mounds and the entrance to the mine shaft was covered by heavy planks. An overgrown track ran down steeply to the cove, where an old jetty was still visible, but near the mine the track ran along the edge of the shelf with a sheer drop to the churning grey sea below. Rose called to Sam to be careful and Evans said gruffly, ‘Don’t ’ee worry, ma’am, I’ll look after him.’

  She watched for a moment as her groom followed Sam towards a wooden truck that lay at a drunken angle, one wheel broken off and the rails that had carried it lost beneath the weeds. The only sound was the cry of gulls overhead and the faint rush of the sea.

  ‘A desolate place,’ remarked Lawrence, dismounting and coming over to lift her down.

  She dropped into his arms, trying not to think of his hands on her waist, the familiar fresh scent of his skin. Her heart thumped so loud and erratically she was sure he must hear it.

  ‘And dangerous,’ she said, referring not only to the physical hazards of the area. Flushing, she stepped out of his grasp, struggling to control her wayward thoughts. ‘Thankfully it is some distance from all the main byways, and no one comes here. I should never forgive myself if a child should be injured in the mine.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ said Lawrence. ‘It appears to be well boarded up.’ He went across to the opening for a closer inspection. ‘Yes, it is remarkably well secured.’

  ‘I am pleased to hear it.’

  ‘You say your husband bought the mine?’

  Sir Lawrence came back and proffered his arm. With only a slight hesitation Rose placed her fingers on his sleeve.

  ‘Harry could never resist a bargain. He thought Hades Mine would bring us wealth beyond our dreams. He won it from a man in Barnstaple. They had been playing at dice and his partner offered Harry the mine in lieu of the money he owed him. Harry was so pleased with himself when he came home with the deeds.’

  ‘You were not so happy?’

  Rose did not answer immediately, but at length she said in a low voice, ‘I had only recently given birth to Sam; I knew very little about mines, but I thought it odd that a man should part with something supposedly worth a fortune for a gambling debt of a hundred pounds.’ She turned her frank gaze upon him. ‘What would you do if someone offered you such an exchange?’

  ‘That depends upon who was offering it.’

  ‘A fool, a spendthrift…almost as big a wastrel as my husband—I beg your pardon.’ She began to hunt for her handkerchief. ‘I should not have spoken so. I should be over this by now.’

  Lawrence took her shoulders and turned her to him. Cupping her face in his hands, he smoothed his thumbs gently over her cheeks to wipe away the tears.

  ‘You are angry and rightly so. From the little I have learned—not from you, you have been very discreet, but to be left thus, with a young son to raise—it must be very hard for you.’

  ‘It is.’ She moved away from him and finished wiping her eyes. ‘I only want what is best for Sam.’

  ‘And you think marrying Magnus Emsleigh is the best you can do?’

  ‘He is a good man and will provide Sam with the father he needs.’

  His blue eyes were fixed on her face, holding her gaze. Rose’s pulse quickened; she felt again the strength of the bond between them. It was much more than the hot, urgent desire stirring inside her: it was a sense of meeting a kindred spirit, someone to share her hopes, her fears—someone to laugh with. If it were not for Sam, would she take a chance and throw in her lot with Sir Lawrence Daunton? Would she give in to the temptation to enjoy his company and his lovemaking, until some other woman caught his attention? All this ran through her mind in the space of a moment, swiftly followed by the memory of the pain she had suffered with her husband. Not merely physical, that had been minor compared to the torture of knowing she was no longer first in his affections. Even in her company his mind had been elsewhere, longing to be back with the laughing beauties who would pander to his every whim and not burden him with the day-to-day responsibilities of looking after his family. That had been bad enough, but she was shocked now to find that the affection she had felt for her husband was nothing to the love she felt for the man now standing before her.

  Lawrence watched the play of emotion crossing Rose’s face. He guessed something of her confusion and was tempted to tell her his suspicions about Magnus Emsleigh, but he knew how it would sound. She would think it merely the accusations of a jealous rival. She still did not trust him. A shudder ran through her and she stepped away from him, dropping the lashes to veil her thoughts.

  Stifling a sigh, he let her go; it seemed a year of living blamelessly was not enough to convince her that he was in earnest. She pulled up the collar of her riding jacket.

  ‘It grows colder. I do not want to keep Sam out in this wind for too long.’

  Confidences were at an end. Accepting that, Lawrence nodded.

  ‘Very well. Stay here with the horses while I persuade Master Sam we have to go back. It may not be easy; he has found an exciting world to explore.’

  He was rewarded with a faint smile; until he could prove that it was Emsleigh who was not the fit-and-proper person he appeared to be, Lawrence realised he would have to content himself with that.

  Rose and Sam returned from their outing much refreshed, but although Sam was eager to recount everything to his grandmother, Rose was more reticent. She had seen the speculative look in her mother’s eye when she had announced she was going riding with Sir Lawrence; she would not add to the conjecture by admitting how much she had enjoyed herself, and instead turned her mother’s thoughts to what they should wear to Emsleigh House that evening.

  As she made her preparations for the ball, Rose was increasingly thankful that she had refused to allow Magnus to send his carriage for them. She did not want to be under any more of an obligation to him and since her ride out that morning this feeling had intensified. On the journey back from the mine she and Lawrence had talked only of commonplace subjects, but she had rarely enjoyed herself more, and it was not until he had taken his leave of her that she realised she had never thanked him properly for bringing Sam back from Sealham Point. She considered writing to him, then decided she would seek him out at the ball that evening. The little surge of pleasure she experienced at the thought gave her pause, and she began to question whethe
r she could really marry Magnus, knowing she could never love him. If not, then she must tell him, and soon. And she thought it would be easier to make a decision if she was not enjoying the comfort of his elegant chaise.

  In the end they were taken up by Farmer Finch and his wife in their ancient but stately carriage. The good-natured farmer and his lady were very vocal in their excitement at being invited to Emsleigh for the Winter Ball.

  ‘Very good of Emsleigh, it is,’ pronounced Mr Finch in his lazy, rolling drawl. ‘Once a year he invites all his neighbours to Emsleigh House to eat, drink, dance and be merry until the morning!’

  ‘Aye,’ chuckled his wife. ‘Not at all high in the instep is Mr Emsleigh, for all his money. And he dresses as fine as any London beau, don’t you agree, Mrs Westerhill?’ She gave Rose a playful dig in the ribs. ‘He’ll make you a fine husband, my dear, you mark my words. And don’t you go putting him off for another year, else you might find some other lady will come along and snabble him up.’

  ‘Just what I have been telling Rose myself, ma’am,’ agreed Mrs Molland. ‘She needs to make up her mind and stick to it.’

  Rose peered through the darkness, trying to see her mother’s expression. The words were more than a casual remark, she was sure. Mrs Molland had never tried to influence Rose about her marriage, saying that she would be happy to have her daughter and grandson live with her for ever, but now Rose wondered if Mama was anxious to see her settled.

  ‘Aye, and then p’raps you’ll set yourself to finding a husband for that sister of his,’ put in Mr Finch. ‘Not that that will be so easy, since she thinks herself so far above her company.’ He laughed. ‘Lord, but this ball must be a sad trial for her, poor woman. She’ll be worrying all evening that one of her brother’s clodhopping guests will walk mud onto their carpets!’

  They laughed at this, but Rose could not be comfortable at talking in such a way of Althea, even though she might share their opinions. She was relieved when her mother neatly turned the subject, asking Mrs Finch about the health of her latest grandchild, and they finished the journey listening to the harrowing story of little Jacob’s continuing bouts of croup.