Snowbound With the Notorious Rake (11 page)

‘No, no, ma’am, thank you. I must be going.’ He carefully took Bandit from Sam and placed her in the basket. ‘Thank you for your help, Master Westerhill.’

‘Can I carry the basket to the carriage for you, sir?’

‘Sam!’ Rose reached out her hand again. ‘Come along, young man. It is time we were going home.’

‘Oh, but please!’

They were being shepherded out of the barn by Jem, who was anxious to settle the mother and her remaining puppies for the night.

‘I have no objection to him carrying the basket,’ said Lawrence mildly.

‘Now, isn’t it a fortunate thing that Sir Lawrence has his gig?’ declared Mrs Wooler. ‘I am sure he would be happy to drop you and your boy off at your cottage, Mrs Westerhill.’

‘Ooh, yes! If you please, sir!’ cried Sam.

‘Oh, no, there is no need—’

Lawrence cut through Rose’s protests.

‘It is on my way, Mrs Westerhill. It would be very discourteous of me to drive past you.’ Rose looked around, shifted from one foot to another and glanced down at Sam, who hovered expectantly. ‘Young Sam may sit in between us and hold the basket,’ murmured Lawrence helpfully.

‘There now, Mrs Westerhill. What are you waiting for?’ Mrs Wooler took Rose’s arm and began to walk her back towards the gig. ‘Let us get you up in that seat and Sir Lawrence will have you home in a twinkling.’

Rose capitulated, but she ignored Lawrence’s hand and nimbly climbed up into the carriage. Lawrence lifted Sam onto the seat and placed the basket with its precious cargo in his lap. He pulled out the carriage rug.

‘I think this is big enough to cover your legs, the basket and your mother—’

‘I will do that.’ Rose quickly batted away his hands as he tried to tuck the rug around her knees.

‘As you wish.’

Once he had said all that was necessary to Mrs Wooler, Lawrence jumped up into the gig and set off down the winding lane.

‘Are you warm enough, ma’am?’

‘Perfectly, thank you.’

Sam was settled happily beside him, but Rose was sitting tense and rigid on the far side of the gig. Her silence weighed heavily between them.

He said abruptly, ‘I am ashamed of my behaviour towards you last night.’

‘I will not discuss this in front of my son!’

‘I have no intention of
discussing
anything, but I must apologise and there is no reason why the boy should not hear me.’ He glanced down at Sam. ‘I was very uncivil to your mama, and I humbly beg her pardon, and yours. A gentleman should always respect and protect a lady, Sam, remember that.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Very well.’ Even in the gloom he knew Rose was glaring at him over Sam’s head. ‘We will say no more about it, if you please.’

Lawrence wanted to say much more about it, but now
was not the time. Instead he remarked, ‘The Woolers are good people. They had only the two sons, I believe?’

‘Yes, Ruben and Abel.’

‘And both wanted to be sailors rather than follow their father on the farm?’

‘Yes, but I think the death of his brother persuaded Abel to give up the sea.’

‘Jem says Ruben was the best sailor ever,’ put in Sam. ‘He sailed across Mersecombe Bay to Sealham Point once, and put ashore there. He carved his name on the rocks. Jem’s going to show me.’

‘Oh, no,’ said Rose quickly. ‘You are not to go out sailing with Jem. You know his mama will not allow that.’

‘I know
that
,’ replied Sam. ‘She is afraid he will drown, like his poor papa. No, Jem says at low tide we can walk around the cliff to Sealham Point.’

‘But not in winter,’ Rose replied. ‘It is not to be thought of until the weather improves.’

‘But, Mama—’

‘It would be a pretty miserable journey when it is this cold,’ observed Lawrence.

‘Oh, we would not mind that,’ said Sam.

‘But your mother would,’ Lawrence replied quietly. ‘You are the man of your household, Sam. She would worry for you and you would not want that, would you?’

‘No, of course not.’

‘And Jem, too, is needed on the farm. He will be expected to earn his keep, now his father is not there to provide for him.’ Rose sighed. ‘They must miss Ruben very much.’

‘They do.’ Sam nodded. ‘Abel says that when he gets his money from Mr Emsleigh, he will have a stone carved with Ruben’s name and put up in the church.’

‘It is fortunate that Emsleigh gave them those promissory notes. Do you know why he did so, ma’am?’

‘Why should you ask me that?’ Rose sounded surprised. ‘Magnus does not discuss his business with me, but it is the nature of the man to take care of those in his employ. That is why he took out the insurance.’

‘If he is to pay the whole crew, it will amount to quite a sum.’

‘That merely shows Magnus considered the risks so very slight.’

Lawrence said nothing, giving his attention to guiding his horse through the near-darkness. He had his own ideas about why Emsleigh had offered his crew that money, and why he had taken out such a high insurance on his cargo, but his suspicions were so far unproven. Should he share them with Rose and put her on her guard against Emsleigh? Would she believe him? He doubted it.

‘I am surprised to find you driving a common gig, Sir Lawrence. A little beneath your touch, I would have thought.’

The gentle teasing in her voice decided it. She was thawing towards him and he would do nothing to jeopardise that.

‘It is not my usual carriage, but perfect for these roads.’ He grinned as they bounced over a particularly stony section and Rose grabbed the side-rail. ‘I would not risk my racing curricle here.’

Sam looked up.

‘You have a curricle? Ooh, I should like to see it.’

‘Alas, it is in London.’

‘Then how do you usually travel when you are here?’ the boy asked.

‘On horseback.’

‘I like horses,’ Sam declared. ‘Evans is going to teach me to ride, one day, when I have a pony of my own. Then I shall ride up to Knightscote to see Bandit, if I may.’

‘We must see what we can do about finding you a pony,’ said Rose. She was smiling, and when Lawrence glanced at her she even met his eyes for a brief moment.

‘
Pax
?’ he murmured.

The dim light made it difficult to read her expression, but he was encouraged by the slight nod of her head. She turned away again, peering into the distance.

‘Bluebell Cottage is just ahead of us, sir, and my mother is in the doorway, looking out for us.’

Lawrence drew up at the gate and Mrs Molland hurried to the little bridge to meet them.

‘There you are at last, Rose. I was beginning to worry, with it growing so dark. Good evening, Sir Lawrence. How kind of you to bring Sam and my daughter home safely.’

‘It was my pleasure, ma’am.’ Lawrence handed the reins to Sam. ‘Hold him steady for me, while I help your mother to get down.’

He smiled at the boy’s obvious delight and left him concentrating hard on holding the reins, knowing all
the time that nothing short of a pistol shot across its ears would make the nag between the shafts move an inch.

Watching such skilful handling of her son, it was only when Sir Lawrence stood at the side of the gig that Rose realised she should have climbed down earlier. Now she was obliged to put her hand in his. The memory evoked by his touch made her freeze and in that brief moment Lawrence took charge. Releasing her fingers, he put his hands firmly around her waist and lifted her out of the carriage. She expected him to prolong his hold and was prepared to protest, but as soon as her feet touched the ground he released her. Rose was obliged to grab hold of his coat as her knees gave way.

‘Steady!’

He caught her again. There was something supremely comforting about the feel of his arms around her. The deep breath she took to calm herself had quite the opposite effect, for it carried with it the distinctive fragrance he wore and her wayward mind conjured up images of lying naked with Lawrence before a roaring fire. The shrieking of the hinges as Mrs Molland opened the gate was like a sharp rebuke for indulging in such memories. Rose quickly disengaged herself.

‘I beg your pardon. I lost my balance. I must be a little cold from the journey.’

‘Then let us get you indoors,’ declared Mrs Molland. ‘Samuel, come along, my dear.’

‘A moment, Grandmama.’ Sam secured the reins and scrambled down onto the road and made a very creditable bow. ‘Goodnight, sir, and thank you for allowing
me to name Bandit. Perhaps we might be able to come to Knightscote and see her one day?’

‘Perhaps.’ Sir Lawrence put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Now, sir, take your mother indoors before she catches a chill!’

‘Yes, come along, Sam.’ Rose held out her hand to him.

‘We did not have time to talk properly at the Assembly,’ said Mrs Mollard, closing the gate. ‘I wanted to invite you to come and take tea with us.’

Standing behind her mother, Rose shook her head vehemently, but Lawrence chose to ignore it.

‘I would be delighted, Mrs Molland. I shall call the next time I am in Mersecombe.’

‘Now you have your puppy I would have thought your business in the village was at an end,’ said Rose, frowning at him.

‘Oh, no, I expect to be riding this way often in the next few weeks.’

Rose detected a hint of laughter in his words and her eyes narrowed. Was he teasing her again? She said coolly, ‘I am obliged to you, sir, for bringing Sam and me home, but we must not delay you any longer. You will not want to keep your horse standing in this chill wind. Samuel, come with me now.’

She caught Sam’s hand and almost dragged him up the path.

‘Well,’ declared Mrs Molland, following behind, ‘that is the second time Sir Lawrence has been of assistance to us. Did he come upon you in the lane, my love?’

‘No, he was at the farm,’ muttered Rose. ‘Do hurry, Mama, it is far too cold to tarry out of doors.’

‘Grandmama, he let me give his puppy a name,’ cried Sam. ‘And he let me carry her basket!’

‘Did he now? Come inside and you can tell me all about it…’

The door closed firmly upon the little family and the voices were lost. Lawrence grinned to himself as he drove away. Rose was thawing towards him and now Mrs Molland had invited him to take tea. Mrs Rose Westerhill might not like the idea, but he had been given another chance to show her he could behave like a gentleman and he was going to take it!

R
ose knew he would call. Much as she knew it would be better for her peace of mind if she never saw Sir Lawrence Daunton again, she could not deny she was curious to know just what was keeping him at Knightscote. That he had no intention of removing from the area in the near future she learned from Sam, who came home after spending the day with Jem to say that Sir Lawrence had been at Woolers Farm again.

‘Oh? Is there something wrong with the puppy?’

‘No, he said Bandit was very well and that his keeper is very pleased with her.’

‘You spoke to him?’

‘Of course. We are friends.’

He was smiling happily and Rose’s heart ached with love for her son. Sam was a quiet boy who did not make friends easily and normally she would have been delighted to hear these words, but she could not help thinking
that Sir Lawrence had won Sam’s confidence after only a few meetings whereas Magnus, who had known Sam for more than two years now, was still treated with a grave reserve, despite his efforts to befriend the boy. Sam continued to chatter away, sublimely unaware of the heartache he was causing his mama.

‘Sir Lawrence wanted to see Abel, but he wasn’t there. Jem’s mama told Sir Lawrence that Abel had gone to Minehead with old Mr Wooler—which was odd, because I thought I saw Abel in the barn when I arrived—but Sir Lawrence said it did not matter, and he took me up on his horse and we rode around the paddock. Sir Lawrence says I will be a—a bruising rider when I have my own pony!’

‘I hope he has not been filling your head with extravagant nonsense,’ declared Mrs Molland, coming into the room in time to hear this last remark. ‘Evans has more than enough to do looking after two horses already—’

‘Oh, no, Grandmama, I told Sir Lawrence that we cannot afford a pony for me until Mama marries Mr Emsleigh—’ He broke off, frowning. ‘What? Should I not have said that?’

‘No, love.’ Rose brushed his unruly hair back from his face. ‘We should not tell strangers our business.’

Sam’s brow cleared.

‘Oh, if that is all—! I told you, Mama, Sir Lawrence is not a stranger, he is a
friend
! Oh, and, Grandmama, he said to tell you he would call upon you tomorrow!’

Rose would have delayed her return to Bluebell Cottage the following day, but Sam was determined that
they should hurry home together and he tugged insistently at her hand all the way along the high street. He was a little disappointed not to see the gig or Sir Lawrence’s bay mare standing outside the cottage when they arrived, but this was soon explained by Janet, the maid, who explained as she opened the door to them that Sir Lawrence was with the mistress, and that Evans had taken his horse to the stables out of the cold.

Thus prepared, Rose was able to greet Sir Lawrence with tolerable composure.

‘Rose, my dear.’ Mrs Molland came over to kiss her cheek. ‘You will see that the kettle is filled and ready to set on the fire, and the tea tray has been set ready for you to begin as soon as you wish.’

‘And how is Bandit, sir?’ enquired Sam, making a hasty bow. ‘Has she settled in, is she eating well? How—?’

‘She is growing very fast.’ Sir Lawrence threw up his hands to stem the flood of questions. ‘She also has a predilection for chewing shoe leather, a habit that my man is even now trying to break.’

‘How big is she?’ demanded Sam. ‘Up to my knees yet? I
wish
I could see her. If only she were not so far away. If only I had a pony I could ride there myself!’

Rose stiffened, but after a fleeting look towards her Sir Lawrence merely smiled and said, ‘I shall be sure to give Bandit your regards when I get back.’

‘Sam, my love, I do think you should go upstairs and change your coat,’ said Mrs Molland, shepherding her grandson towards the door. ‘Janet will help you wash
your face and hands, then you may come back and have a little cake with us.’

Rose gave her mother an anguished look, silently begging her not to leave them alone, but Mrs Molland appeared not to notice and she went out, closing the door behind her.

Almost a year ago they had been so easy together, but now an uncomfortable silence cloaked them. Rose’s nerves were on edge. Even when he was sitting down Sir Lawrence dominated the room. It was as much as Rose could do to sit still, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. There was so much she wanted to say to him, so much that could never be spoken.

In an effort to break the tension Rose picked up the kettle and put it on the fire. She searched her mind for some innocuous remark.

‘Is your business in the area completed now?’

‘Business?’

‘At the Assembly you said you could not leave.’

He looked surprised.

‘I said that? I fear I misled you. I am here purely bent upon pleasure.’

‘Not mine!’ Rose uttered the retort unthinking and she quickly sat back down, blushing.

‘No,’ he said quietly, ‘I am aware of that.’

He stood up and began to pace the little room, coming so close she could feel the air move as he passed her.

‘However, there is a little…matter that I would like to discuss with you, if I may. It concerns Sam. I would like to help him.’

‘Why should you want to do that?’

‘He is a delightful boy.’ He could have said nothing more designed to please her, but his next words provoked panic. ‘I would like to be better acquainted with him.’

‘That is not possible. You—’ She ran her tongue around her lips, forcing herself to speak. ‘You are not a…a suitable person for him to know.’

He winced at that.

‘Very well—but I should still like to help, and he does not need to know I had any hand in this.’

Immediately she was wary.

‘Go on.’

‘I was in Barnstaple the other day and happened to look in at the auction. I bought a pony.’

Rose jumped up.

‘Sir Lawrence, I—’

‘It is for my godson,’ he continued, talking over her. ‘I know the previous owner, a country gentleman whose own children have outgrown the animal. She is beautifully mannered and will suit my little godson perfectly when he is older. I did not want to miss the chance to obtain such a gift so…I bought her.’ He turned his rueful smile upon Rose, who tried to ignore the tug of attraction it inspired. ‘The only problem is what to do with her until then. She needs to be ridden or I fear she will soon forget her manners. I know it was your intention to find such a mount for Sam and I wondered if you could help me out. I need someone to make use of the pony until such time as my godson is old enough to ride her.’

‘I cannot imagine any sensible person asking you to stand godparent to their child,’ said Rose, momentarily distracted. ‘Unless you have reformed.’

The disturbing twinkle appeared in his blue eyes. A familiar ache curled low in her belly. She swallowed hard. She wanted him now as much as ever.

‘I
am
reformed. I told you I would do so, though you have yet to believe it. And my cousin is exceedingly sensible, although I cannot deny that she is very fond of me, which may have clouded her judgement when it came to choosing a godfather for her child. Well, Mrs Westerhill, will you help me out of my dilemma?’

She was not fooled by his innocent look.

‘How old is your godson, Sir Lawrence?’

‘Oh, he must be all of eighteen months, by now.’

Rose’s lips twitched. She said gravely, ‘It will be some years, then, before he will be able to appreciate your gift.’

‘And until then I need someone to look after the mare. I will of course pay for her stabling.’

‘That would not be necessary, I am not a pauper!’

His blue eyes captured her gaze and held it. At last she dragged her eyes away. She left her chair and walked towards the window.

‘I cannot accept,’ she said at last. ‘I would be under such an obligation to you.’

‘The obligation would be all mine.’ He moved towards her. Rose kept her eyes averted, but her spine tingled, knowing he was behind her. His breath was on her cheek as he murmured, ‘Please, Rose, why
should the animal be eating its head off in my stable when Sam could be learning to ride?’

She continued to stare out of the window, not daring to turn and face him. The air was charged with danger, like an electrical storm crackling about them. Rose tried to fight off the heady recklessness that was creeping under her skin. She should have nothing to do with Sir Lawrence if she truly wanted to forget him. And yet, how could she deny Sam this opportunity? A small voice of reason argued that it was madness. Magnus would certainly say so.

As if reading her mind, Lawrence murmured, ‘Perhaps you should ask Emsleigh before you make a decision.’

Her chin went up.

‘I do not need to consult him on such a matter!’

‘No?’

The challenge was blatant.

‘No.’ She stifled the voice of reason and turned to face him. ‘Very well, Sir Lawrence. We will look after this pony for you.’ His lips curled in a slow smile that turned her insides to water. She struggled to continue. ‘Your groom may bring the animal to the stables. If there is any communication regarding the arrangement, it is to be conducted through Evans. I want nothing more to do with the matter.’

‘Nothing?’

‘No. And…and I will explain the matter to Sam, if you please, but not today.’

‘As you wish.’

He was still smiling at her and she turned away again, knowing that if he touched her the thin control she had over herself would slip away and she would melt into his arms, as she had dreamed of doing almost every night for the past year.

Sam saw nothing amiss in the idea of Sir Lawrence lending him a pony, but Rose was obliged to explain more fully to Mrs Molland, who was inclined to question Sir Lawrence’s motive.

‘I think it was an impetuous purchase,’ said Rose, avoiding her eyes. ‘Once he had bought the pony he had to do
something
with her until his godson is old enough to make use of her.’

‘It does seem extremely generous of him, to loan the animal to us,’ mused Mrs Molland. ‘Forgive me, my love, but have you thought that he is perhaps trying to buy his way into your affections—as Aunt Jane might say, to have his evil way with you?’

Rose summoned up all her will-power to give a light-hearted laugh.

‘Heavens, Mama, what a nonsensical notion!’

‘No, it is not. You are young and pretty—’

‘I am a widow and about to marry another man. Believe me, Mama, Sir Lawrence knows he would be wasting his time to set out lures to catch
me
!’

‘Would he, though?’ Rose found herself blushing at the knowing look in her mother’s eye. ‘The fact that you allowed the kettle to boil quite dry when I left you alone with him tells me you are not as immune to Sir Lawrence as you would have me believe.’

‘We were discussing the pony, Mama, nothing more. And perhaps I should take
you
to task for leaving us alone in that shameful manner!’

‘Well, I think Sir Lawrence is quite charming,’ replied her mother, unabashed. ‘If I was twenty years younger, I know I would enjoy being alone with him!’

‘Mama! You are quite…quite outrageous. The more so when you know I am betrothed to Magnus, and very happily so,’ she added defiantly.

‘Then a few moments’
tête à tête
with Sir Lawrence Daunton should not have discomposed you.’

‘It did not do so!’ Rose felt the blood heating her cheeks and hurried on. ‘Besides, I have already told him that he must deal with Evans—I will not have him use the animal as an excuse to call upon me. It…it is a perfectly sensible arrangement, to our mutual benefit. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.’

Mrs Molland looked sceptical.

‘Well, whatever Magnus will say about it I don’t know.’

Rose had wondered that herself, but when Magnus called at the cottage a few days later he said jovially, ‘I have just bumped into Sam, who tells me he has a new pony. This is very sudden—you did not tell me you were going to buy him one?’

Rose said airily, ‘No, it—it was rather sudden. I—er—had the opportunity to obtain the perfect mount for Sam.’

‘Well, you know what you are about, my dear, but I
would have thought keeping another animal would be too much of an expense for you.’

‘Having two horses in livery already, we were able to negotiate a very good rate for a third,’ put in Mrs Molland, with perfect truth.

She neatly turned the subject and exchanged a look with Rose that confirmed them as co-conspirators. There was a tacit understanding that Magnus need not be told.

Sam was delighted with his new pony and spent every spare moment at the stables. A period of clement weather enabled him to be out of doors every day and by the end of the first week the groom reported that Sam was making good progress, and showing an aptitude for riding. When Rose went to watch a lesson for herself, the happiness shining in her young son’s face made her heart swell and she felt a wave of gratitude towards Lawrence.

She had seen nothing of him since his visit to Bluebell Cottage—it was as they had agreed: the loan of the pony was not to make any difference to their acquaintance. It was certainly much better for her peace of mind, yet she found herself wondering if he was still at Knightscote. Would he inform her if he went away? Her mind went round and round the question, but came up with no satisfactory answer; in the end she determined to put all thoughts of the dangerous rake out of her mind and concentrate upon her own life, and the forthcoming dinner at Emsleigh House.

It was a long-standing engagement; Mrs Molland
had received the invitation from Althea Emsleigh several weeks ago and had told her daughter she was not at all deceived by its honeyed tones.

‘The invitation really comes from Magnus. Althea considers us very poor company. You, a schoolteacher, and me, an ageing widow!’

‘But she must be charming to us for her brother’s sake.’

‘And you should be charming to her,’ retorted Mrs Molland. ‘She will be your sister-in-law soon and you will have to share a house with her.’

‘Heavens, yes,’ replied Rose, much struck. ‘She will not enjoy having to make way for me as mistress of Emsleigh.’ A dimple appeared. She said mischievously, ‘I wonder how quickly we can find her a husband?’