by Esther Hatch
Where could she go? She lifted her skirts and let her legs fly. The months of country walking had done her good. When she reached the end of the path where it branched out to different sections of the garden, she turned, almost as if pulled toward Lord Farnsworth’s hunting lodge. It was where he would least expect her to go. She stormed down the path and ignored the tearing of her skirt as she passed the pond on her left.
“Sally?” His voice rolled over the evening air and pierced her heart. He was coming this way and faster than she had hoped. She wouldn't have time to make it to the lodge; somehow he had guessed she had come this way. The early evening sky was just starting to darken. If she found a good hiding place he wouldn’t be able to find her. She kicked off her shoes and hid them under a log, then before she could think better of it, she walked directly into the pond. Icy cold shocked her into realizing how ridiculous she was being. What was she going to do? Hold her breath underwater while he passed by?
The sound of Lord Farnsworth’s feet on the path neared. “Sally,” he called out again.
It was too late now. She had no time to put her shoes back on, nor could she run away barefooted. Holding her breath would have to be the answer.
She took a few more steps into the water. Her foot came down on a sharp pebble and she bit her lip to keep herself from crying out. Her skirts pooled about her as she went deeper into the murky pond. How much farther would she have to go in order to duck under the water and remain unseen? Just a few more steps should do it.
“Sally, what in heaven’s name are you doing in the pond?”
She didn’t turn, but kept walking. And why not? He had done the same to her. Of course, he had a huge advantage—he could swim. She would have to stop soon or her skirts would pull her under anyway. But not yet. She wasn’t even in up to her waist yet.
“Come out. I need to talk to you.”
“I don’t need to talk to you,” she called out behind her.
“What are you doing in our pond?”
Our pond. She shook her head. There was no our pond. He wanted to buy Greenwood Manor and live here with his new wife. And she would let him, too, even though she had declared to Mr. Ashton that she wouldn’t. She couldn’t possibly live here, reminded of him every day, while knowing he was married to someone else. “Going for a swim.”
“When did you learn to swim?”
“I haven’t. But I thought perhaps today would be a good day to start.”
Lord Farnsworth groaned and then, after a few short grunts—pulling off his boots—the splash of his feet hitting the water sounded behind her. She spun around.
Rather, she tried to, but she was now waist-deep and her clothing wouldn’t cooperate. Instead she reeled backwards, turning around only enough to see Lord Farnsworth practically running through the water. She flailed her arms, pushing up as much as she could from the surface, but the pools of her clothing hampered her every movement, pulling her farther out into the pond.
Lord Farnsworth cursed and dove headfirst into the water. Sally’s legs kicked out in front of her and she sank down into the water until her shoulders were wet, but just before her head went under, Lord Farnsworth’s strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him.
She was instantly warm.
His face was dripping, his hair plastered to his forehead. It was not at all how she had imagined seeing him again. He muttered something under his breath that sounded an awful lot like demmed fool woman. His curse brought her back to her senses and she pushed against him with all her might. “Get away from me.”
His fingers dug into her waist but the force of her panic still managed to make him reel backward. She slid out of his grip and back into the water.
Immediately she lost her footing and slipped back down into the water. When the cold water hit her face, her lungs froze. Once again a strong pair of hands pulled her to her feet.
“Stop fighting me and tell me exactly what you think you heard in Mr. Ashton’s cottage.”
His hair was still in his face, but he wouldn't let go of her in order to brush it out of his eyes. Droplets of water streamed down his cheeks. She wanted to brush back his dripping locks, but she had no right to. Instead she wiped her own forehead and eyes. She had tried escaping him, but had only ended up soaking them both, and he could move faster than she ever could in the water. She had wanted at least a few minutes to process what Mr. Ashton had said; a few minutes to compose a calm, business-like manner. Instead, she would now have to hear him confess that he was marrying someone else and agree to his terms about the manor while water ran down his face and his hands were firmly wrapped around her waist.
He was right. She was a demmed fool.
Sally cleared her throat and threw back her shoulders. She could be a businesswoman anywhere, even dripping wet in a pond. “Mr. Ashton told me you were planning on getting married, and I saw that you want to buy the manor back. That is fine. I haven’t particularly enjoyed living here of late.”
Lord Farnsworth risked her escape and brought one hand up to his eyes, wiping away the water and hair that had covered them.
“You haven’t liked living here? It doesn’t suit you?”
She loved the manor. It would break her heart to leave it, but since he had left, it hadn’t been the same. “I thought it would, but…” She couldn't continue. Her voice cracked and if she had to lie to him about a silly reason Greenwood Manor didn’t suit her, she would likely end up crying. Extremely unprofessional.
“Did you look closely at the offer?”
“No, but I don’t need to. I’m sure whatever you have offered would be reasonable, and I will take it.”
“You are certain? Even without looking at it?”
“I think I know you well enough to assume you would be fair to me.”
He put his free hand back around her waist and held her firmly. Whatever he said next, it wouldn’t be good. “I offered you one pound.”
She slapped her hand upon the water. “A pound? First you torment me for weeks, then you ignore me for a year and now you offer me one measly pound for my home—a home I have put hundreds of pounds into, I’ll have you know. Do not be cruel, Jonathan. I will sell to you, but you will have to ask your fiancée to advance you some money. I will not sell for a pound.”
“I don’t have a fiancée.”
Why was he being so stubborn? This wasn’t a time to stress about semantics. “The woman you hope to make your fiancée, then.” Jonathan released her waist one finger at a time, waiting for the smallest fraction of a moment to ensure she wouldn’t try to escape before allowing the next finger to lift. When his hand was free and she still hadn’t run off, he brushed away the water dripping down her cheek. Sally lifted her chin. “I’ll have you know, those aren’t tears. It is only this pond water has gotten into my hair and—”
“Sally—”
“You shouldn’t call me that, you have no right to call me that—”
“Sally, will you advance me some money so I can buy this home for what it is worth?”
Sally pushed him away. “I didn’t say you should ask me, you dolt. I said you should ask your—” She stopped struggling. “Wait, what do you mean?”
“I came as soon as I had a pound of profit. I’ve invested, I’ve introduced some new improvement to one of my estates, I’ve done everything I could to make my income equal to what it takes for me to keep what is mine. I wanted to offer you a fair price for Greenwood Manor, but that would have taken ten more years and I didn’t want to wait that long.” His thumb stroked the base of her jawline. “Living without you for a year has been torture enough.”
The pond water was starting to addle her brain. Lord Farnsworth was here to ask her to marry him? “Your estates and investments are no longer operating with a deficit?”
“They are not.” He stepped closer to her, the little sunlight that was left in the sky reflecting off the surface of the pond, thousands of specks of light offering hope and laughter w
hen she had gone much too long without it. She focused on that bouncing line of light while her world shifted.
She was about to be very, very happy.
She leaned forward, placing her mouth only inches from his. “I am exceedingly glad to hear that, Lord Farnsworth—”
“Jonathan.”
“Victoria and Mr. Ashton call you John.”
“Well, that is what everyone at Greenwood Manor called me, but my friends and my father always called me Jonathan, before I became Farnsworth, at any rate.”
“Well, John.” She was a part of Greenwood Manor, so she would call him John. Her lips went to his ear. “I will not sell you the manor for a pound. It is worth much more than that.”
He didn’t step away, but twisted his head so that his mouth was next to her ear. “But if we marry, it will be yours anyway.”
“Still.” She traced a line down his waistcoat, touching each of the buttons. “I’m not such a bad businesswoman as that.”
He caught her hand over a button and held it there. “You want me to wait nine years and offer for your hand then? When I can afford it?”
She stepped back, but not far, for her hand was still kept prisoner. “Heavens, no. But I cannot in good conscience sell you this home for a pound. What if we don’t marry? What then?”
“Oh, I will marry you, Sally. But I cannot marry you while you own this home. You will think that is the only reason I did. You will have to trust me to marry you after I buy the manor.”
His thumb was stroking the back of her hand. Very distracting. This could in fact be her most difficult negotiation yet. “No.”
His face fell, and this time she did lift a hand and brush a lock of dripping hair away from his head. “Your offer is a terrible offer. I am not a young woman who has never seen a contract before and I won’t be swayed by your sweet words and that torso of yours that is decidedly wet and most tempting to wrap my arms around.” His head lifted and he tipped it to one side, listening. “I will, however, trust that if you marry me now, it will not be because I own the manor. If you are willing to accept the terms of my agreement, then you may consider us engaged.”
His eyes scanned hers. “That is it?” She nodded her head. “That is all I have to do? You do know all of London will think I married you for the manor.”
“I don’t think all of London will think that much on—”
Both his hands went back around her waist and he pulled her to him, stopping her words with a kiss.
She laughed but the sound of it was muffled by his mouth. He responded with a laugh of his own and, using his powerful arms, lifted her up and partially out of the water. He deepened the kiss and attempted to spin her around, but her dress weighed so heavily in the water that he only managed to make them tip to one side. He gave up on the spin and instead pulled her closer to him.
Sally’s hands went in his hair, grabbing fistfuls of it and pulling him even closer to her. His fingers slid up her back, pinning her to him, but the movement unbalanced him and his legs were suddenly kicking in the water to find purchase on the mud below them. With a laugh in her throat, she shoved him down into the water, following him under with all her heart.
They came up sputtering, and this time she didn’t hesitate to wipe away the water from his eyes. He returned the favor. Even wet, his fingertips felt warm against her eyelids.
She closed her eyes and leaned into his ministrations. “You spent an entire year getting your finances in order?”
“Yes.” The light pressure of his lips on her forehead caused lights to flash beneath her eyelids. “It was a very long year.”
He wrapped her in his arms and rubbed his hands up and down her back to warm her. They needed to get out of the pond, but being held by Jonathan made it impossible to want to move. If she held very still, perhaps her legs would no longer feel numb.
Jonathan was more responsible, though. He kept one arm about her waist and propelled them to the shore.
His cheek was clean shaven, and the water gave his hair the slightest of waves. She reached up and traced the very corner of his lip with her thumb. “You could have told me, you know. You let me think you wasted away your money on fine shirts and whatever else barons typically waste money on.”
He squeezed her shoulder. “I wanted to explain everything to you. But it wouldn’t have changed anything. You deserved a man who didn’t squander your family’s wealth. I couldn't raise my rents. If I had, my tenants wouldn’t have been able to afford it. I wanted to come to you without that burden.”
They stepped out onto dry ground and Jonathan once again enveloped her into his arms. She wrapped her arms about his chest, her fingers only just grazing each other on his back. Every one of his breaths pulled her fingers apart. She would never get tired of the sturdiness of him. She leaned her head back and looked up. “But you weren’t willing to work for ten more years so as to pay me what my house was worth.”
He shook his head with a look of horror on his face. “One year was bad enough. There is a limit to my patience. I was lost without you.”
“I will be sure to remind you of that whenever you leave for a long hunting trip.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You think I will go on hunting trips?”
“That is what you were doing most of the time I have known you.”
“True, but I was hunting you. You must know that. What reason would I have to go hunting now?”
“Not hunting then, but whatever it is husbands do when they are off with friends.”
A smile burst out on his face. He straightened his back and raised an eyebrow. “Husband. I like the sound of that.”
“Well, then, future husband.” It did have a nice ring to it. “There is something I want to show you. Will you come with me to Greenwood Manor?”
“I will come with you anywhere, but not quite yet.”
Sally raised her eyebrows. What exactly did he need to do before then? They were both quite wet and it wasn’t a warm evening...
John folded her into his arms once again. When his lips met hers, their soaked clothing was forgotten.
This… She sighed into him. She could wait to show him the library for this.
Chapter 25
Jonathan pulled at the lapels of the borrowed dressing gown, but try as he might, the blasted thing wouldn’t stay closed until they reached a few inches above where he had cinched it together at his waist.
He wore one of Sally’s butler’s shirts as well, and although he had gotten it over his head and had managed to push his arms through the sleeves, the fabric strained against his chest and upper arms. He couldn’t leave the spare bedroom like this.
A soft knock sounded at the door. It must be a servant coming to fetch him.
“Tell Miss Duncan I will wait for my clothing to dry, or my trunk to arrive, and then I will join her.”
“It is me.” Sally’s voice was soft and quiet from the other side of the door. He took the two steps over to it and rested his forehead on the oak panels above the handle. Hearing her voice, husky and low, so unlike the lilting voices of London, was a pleasure he had denied himself much too long. “I want to show you what I have done to the library.”
He took a deep breath. “Did you really tear out the shelves?” It would be fine if she had. Greenwood Manor was already transforming into a new home, and as long as he could share it with her, it didn’t matter what she had done with the library.
“Open the door. I think we should see it together.”
She must have done something drastic if she didn’t dare tell him what it was. Most of what he had seen of the house had been tasteful, but his one glance at a corridor in the east wing had confirmed some of his worst fears. Sally had let Victoria run amok in some of the rooms. The library might have fallen prey to her whims as well.
He undid the latch. If Sally saw him in the ridiculous clothes her servants had found for him, she would understand his need to stay exactly where he was. Sally pushed on the door
and he allowed it to open only a few inches.
Her broad smile nearly made him throw open the door and join her in the corridor. It was a smile for him, simply because he was there. Her gaze wandered downward to the taut linen shirt he couldn’t quite cover. Her eyes widened and her smile changed from open and friendly to a half-upturned smirk. “You know all this time I have been giving credit to your tailor for your well-fitted clothing, but it turns out ill-fitted clothing becomes you just as well.”
He opened the door wider. “You must see why I need to await my own clothes.”
She licked her lips and then pulled them together tight as if it was all she could do to stop a laugh. Sally wouldn't take her eyes off his deuced chest. She tipped her head to one side. “You are decently covered.” Once again she swallowed what must have been a gleeful laugh. “Come with me. It isn’t as though we will run into anyone from Town. It is just us, Victoria, and the servants. And Mrs. Merryweather is here to act as chaperone.”
“I am covered.” He scoffed. “I wouldn’t say decently.”
In a movement hidden as well as any trained pugilist, her hand flashed into the room and grabbed a hold of him by his forearm. “I’m going to read to you in the library, and I’m not going to wait for your clothing to do it.”
“With Mrs. Merryweather acting as chaperone?”
“Heavens, no. I only meant the fact that she is here as a chaperone should provide London with some relief. I’m not inviting her into the library.”
He could have stopped her. It wouldn’t have taken much force to plant his feet and stay where he was, but he allowed Sally to drag him out of the room. Despite her assurances that they would cause no scandal if they were seen, each time they crossed an open space or a corridor, Sally glanced about hurriedly before continuing.
