by Brianna York
Rosy wisely held her tongue and instead of answering him, gathered her reins and waited for him to be ready to ride away from the house. Rob attempted to keep his frustration on a leash as they rode down the drive. Thankfully the first blush of truly fine weather had made its presence known and the day was sunny and blessed with a soft breeze that made the air fresh and cool. The horses seemed pleased with the weather as well and Rosy’s mare snorted and danced a bit as they rode along.
Rosy laughed at the horse’s antics, her eyes shining with pleasure at being back in the saddle. She glanced over at Rob. “Shall we go a bit faster?” she asked. “Nyx would love a bit of freedom.”
“Lead on,” Rob agreed graciously, bowing slightly in the saddle at her.
With a grin, Rosy loosened her grip on the reins and Nyx cantered away. Rob’s horse snorted and tried to bolt after the other horse but he managed to rein it in to a speed he felt more comfortable at. As he attempted to both contain his horse and manage his balance in the saddle, he thought rather grumpily that he should have spent more time learning to ride when he was younger.
“Sorry to rush off,” Rosy said a few moments later as he trotted up to her. She had reined in her mare some time ago and had been waiting for him to catch up. “She has so much energy sometimes that it is contagious.”
Rob smiled at her despite his frustration with his lack of skill in the saddle. “A rider as fine as yourself should not be confined to my doddering pace all the time.”
Rosy made a noise of disagreement at this and fell in beside him as they rode down the lane. She slanted a glance at her from under the brim of her little hat. “Might I ask you a question, Husband?”
He turned to look at her briefly and felt his heart warm at the mischief in her dark eyes as she regarded him askance. “Ask away,” he replied easily.
She turned back to the task of riding for a moment as her mare skittered away from a rustle in the bushes moments before a rabbit hopped across the path. Once she had gotten her horse’s attention back, she said, “Why is it that you so dislike riding? I have always wondered but never thought to ask you.”
Rob sighed. “It is a sad story, I am afraid.”
Rosy heard the tone in his voice and held her peace for the moment. She looked at his profile and saw the pain drawn on his features. “I am sorry. We need not speak of it anymore.”
Rob shook his head. “The past has ruled my life for some time.” He fiddled with the strands of his horse’s mane for a moment, then looked at her with a wry smile on his face. “Perhaps it is time to tell the story in order to be free of it.”
“Sometimes sharing something painful does help,” Rosy said to him. She reached out a hand and placed it on his forearm. She squeezed gently before letting go and riding along patiently beside him.
Rob drew in a deep breath to gather himself. “My father and mother grew up together. They were the children of close knit families and spent holidays together long before they were presented for their first Season in town. They were inseparable as children I am told.” He fell silent for a moment, a far away and dreamy look on his face. Rosy regarded him sidelong, enjoying the sweetness of his expression as he remembered.
“I do not think there was ever any doubt about them marrying. My father said that he had been in love with her since the first day he saw her.” They turned left at a fork in the road and Rob navigated the change of direction before going on. “My father always loved expensive things. He always wanted to have the newest carriage, the most beautiful horses, the best artwork and so on. When I was ten he bought a brand-new carriage and team of four. The horses were a joy to him, beautifully trained, perfectly matched and sensible enough to be driven in the city as well as the country.”
“A good horse is always a thing of wonder,” Rosy agreed, giving her mare a little pat on the neck.
Rob smiled at her momentarily. “My father would have approved of your horse mad sensibilities.”
Rosy smiled back for a moment. “Do go on,” she prodded when he had been silent for too long.
Rob’s face darkened as the memories he was scanning changed course. “I always admired my father. I wanted to be just like him. To that end I tried to do everything that he did, to be everything that he was. One day when we were to go to a neighbor’s home for a picnic and some lawn games, I begged my father to drive us part of the way there. At first, he said no. I was only ten and small for my age.” He paused and shot her a wry glance. “As you can see I never did grow as much as I might have hoped.”
Rosy shook her head. She thought Rob was a perfect height. “I have had no complaints, Husband.”
He winked at her, then returned to his story. “My mother pleaded with him not to let me drive, saying that I was too small and that I was best off riding in the carriage with my sister and herself. Well, as you can imagine I protested at this. I thought of myself as a man already and did not wish to be confined to doing the things that women did. Perhaps because of my angst at being made to look silly, my father gave in and told me that I could drive the horses for a bit.”
Rob’s horse stumbled in a rut in the road and Rob managed to right his balance after a moment amidst some cursing. “Sorry,” he muttered as he settled himself in the saddle again and straightened out his coat tails. He sighed and went on. “At first everything went very well. The horses were listening well and I was having no trouble steering or keeping control. Suddenly, some riders on a morning hunt came tearing into the road by jumping over a fence and galloping by. Needless to say, this quite excited the horses and they began to run off. My father tried to help me get control of the team but they were so strong that they tore the reins from my hands. My hands were bleeding from trying to hold on to the leather.” He grimaced at the memory. His hands had hurt him for weeks.
Rosy made a small mew of sympathy at this. She herself had suffered a bad burn to her hand once when her childhood pony had refused to listen to her and had gotten loose.
Rob looked up at the sky for a moment. “The horses were terrified and had no direction. They ran to the end of the lane where there was a left turn. They were going much too fast for such a tight turn as well as being tangled hopelessly in their harness. The carriage overturned. My father and I were flung mostly clear of the wreckage. My sister and mother were not so lucky. The horses fared little better.”
Rosy felt her throat tighten. She thought she knew what he would say next.
“My mother and sister died that day. The horses that were not killed in the crash had to be destroyed. They were too maimed to be nursed back to health. My father and I were fine physically other than some cuts and scratches. The mental toll of that day is another tale to tell, however.”
Rosy thought she understood many things about Rob in a whole new light. His disinterest in horses which bordered on fear, his lack of attention to his country home and its tenants, his wish to remain a bachelor, all of it made more sense now. “It must have been very hard on you both,” she said softly, tears pooling in her eyes and blurring her vision.
Rob nodded. “My father receded into himself. I think he blamed himself for all of it but I also think that he could never look at me again without seeing the events of that day. I was sent away to the homes of various friends of ours to be raised with their children and receive my schooling and introduction to society. My father had no desire to see anyone or go anywhere. Once a year I would come here to the country to see him and we would rub along together in silence for a few days before I could not stand it any longer and I would leave again. I think he stayed here in the country because he felt closest to my mother here where they had grown up.”
“That is unbearably sad,” Rosy sniffled. “It is like a Gothic novel.”
Rob quirked a wry smile at that. “A very depressing one maybe,” he answered her. He sighed again and said, “Anyhow, I have never felt much desire to come back here after that day. I always felt the weight of my father’s sadness and anger wh
en I came here. So, I stayed away and had fun with my friends in town. I gambled and spent money and lived like a devil-may-care nodcock. Sadly, I had never really considered that the money I was spending had to be generated from somewhere. My father had not been paying much heed to the estate while I was away at school, and he passed away right after I finished my education. I was not best pleased at inheriting at such a young age and decided not to take it too seriously.”
“Most young men get to sow their wild oats for a few years before having to grow more serious,” Rosy said soothingly. “It was not unreasonable for you to wish to do so yourself.”
Rob shrugged. “Perhaps. The truth of the matter is that my father and I did not have a normal relationship during my youth. As a result, I have never felt truly comfortable with the details of running the estate or managing my holdings. Thankfully my father’s steward outlived him and still manages much of the day to day care of the place without my input.”
Rosy frowned a bit at this information. “I did not meet him yesterday. Does he live somewhere else on the property?”
“He has a small home just down the lane here, actually,” Rob said. “Let’s stop in and say hello to him. You shall need to be acquainted with him now that you are part of the family. You shall like him. He is a kindly old man.”
Rosy wondered a little at her gut reaction to Rob’s trust of this steward. All large estates had a steward to handle the day to day affairs of their holdings. This was not irregular. What was irregular was Rob’s obvious disinterest in the goings on of the estate. Such laxity could lead to him being cheated out of income that was his both by neglect on the part of the Steward or through outright theft. She told herself to remain as impartial as she could as they turned down the drive to the little brick cottage Rob had said would be there. She only wished that her nerves would listen to her logical thoughts.
Chapter Eighteen
“Ho there, Bruxton!” Rob called as he and Rosy rode into the little yard before the house. “Are you home?”
There was a brief moment of quiet and then the wooden door of the cottage opened with a squeak to reveal a spare older man with fluffy white hair. He was dressed rather like a country squire in a hunting coat and worn leather boots. He had been wearing spectacles but he took these off as he stepped into the yard to greet them.
“Hello, My Lord!” Bruxton said in a surprisingly deep and soothing voice. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Rob smiled at the older man. “I have been out showing my new wife the lay of the property. We were very close by so we decided to stop in so you might meet one another. My Lady Coulthurst, this is Mr. Bruxton. He has been the steward of this property since he was in his early twenties and his father was the steward before him.”
“It is lovely to meet you,” Rosy said, genuinely pleased with the apparent kindness of the old man. She pondered why her instincts still told her that something was awry with the management of the estate. There was nothing at all about Bruxton to indicate that he was the cause of her sense of alarm.
“I am most pleased to meet you, My Lady,” Mr. Bruxton replied, bowing to her.
“Is your daughter about today?” Rob asked the steward.
“She has been gone this past hour in town to replenish some of the stocks that we have run low on,” Bruxton stated. He glanced past Rosy and Rob. “Speak and you shall receive,” he said. “Here she comes now.”
“Ah Ms. Bruxton,” Rob called out to the woman coming up the drive toward them with a laden basket on her arm. “We were just speaking of you.”
Rosy turned in the saddle and saw that the woman approaching them was about her own age. She was rather tall for a woman and seemed fit and strong as she carried the basket with ease. She was blonde and rather buxom. Rosy did not miss the way that her expression changed from pleasure to sudden remote withdrawal when she caught sight of Rosy.
“Were you now,” Ms. Bruxton said in a rich and melodious voice. “I hope that it was kindly things that you were saying. It is a pleasure to have you standing in our stable yard, My Lord.” She curtsied properly, but Rosy was a bit stunned at the forwardness of her tone with Rob.
Rob gestured to Rosy. “This is my new wife,” Rob informed Ms. Bruxton. “We have been on a tour of the countryside and I wished to stop in so that Lady Coulthurst might meet you both.”
Ms. Bruxton dipped into a very deep curtsey before Rosy. Her expression was friendly but Rosy still sensed an undercurrent of dislike leaching into the other woman’s every move. “I am pleased to meet you, My Lady,” she said sweetly.
Rosy dipped her head in reply. “It is lovely to have met you as well,” she replied properly despite her discomfort.
“Will your son be home from school soon?” Rob asked Ms. Bruxton.
She smiled brightly at the mention of her son. “Indeed. Harold has made it known to us that he will be home in the next few days. He will likely not stay long though,” she said, pride beaming through her words. “He has made friends with some very powerful young peers while he has been getting his education and they have offered to take him with them on some tours of the continent that they have planned for their last summer before they have completed their studies.”
An older son then, Rosy thought. Interesting that these people should be able to send their son to a school where he might meet young men of the peerage. Usually the son of a commoner would not be able to reach any higher than a career in the church or possibly the army.
“Ms. Bruxton and her father have saved every penny they have been able to spare in order to send her son away to get his education at Oxford. He is a bright lad and has evinced an interest in the law from a young age.” Rob grinned at Ms. Bruxton and Rosy held her tongue despite her annoyance with the familiar way he was treating this family whose presence in his life was supposed to be one of respect and discipline to their tasks rather than familial fondness.
“He is getting along famously,” the other woman preened. “I am ever so proud of him.”
“How nice for you both,” Rosy managed to say, noting that her tone was dampening but not being able to help it. Rob threw a bemused glance her way before returning to conversation with the Bruxtons. After what seemed an eternity to Rosy, they finally rode away to resume their tour of the estate.
“Are they not lovely people?” Rob asked as they turned back onto the lane and continued toward the first of the cottages of Rob’s tenants.
Rosy bit her lip to restrain her wayward tongue. “The old man seems very nice,” she said finally.
Rob turned slightly in the saddle to look at her. “What is the matter?” he demanded.
Rosy looked at him, her lip still caught between her teeth. “Something about their story did not make sense to me, Rob.”
Rob quirked a brow at her. “Oh?”
“Yes. Surely it does not seem odd to you that the daughter of a Steward could afford to send her son to Oxford?” Rosy’s brow was furrowed with consternation. The more she thought about Ms. Bruxton the more she disliked her. The other woman seemed indirect and dishonest somehow.
Rob shrugged. “I do pay her father quite well for his services. Perhaps they have just chosen to cut their budget very fine in order to afford to offer him a chance to enter the gentry.”
Rosy glanced at Rob in some disbelief. “Rob,” she said carefully. “You must remember how much it cost for you to attend University. No commoner who did not attend on scholarship would be able to afford such a thing. The fact that she stated that he is planning to travel with his wealthy friends indicates that he has been attending as if he was at their social level. That costs quite a lot of money.”
Rob tried not to become annoyed at her doubts. “I don’t remember the exact figure that my father paid,” he admitted. “I was never required to look at the books since my father and Bruxton took care of all of that. You seem to be dismissing the chance that the lad is attending as a commoner and the other young men are simply overlooking h
is station.”
Rosy chewed her lip a bit. “I suppose that is possible,” she muttered. As well as very unlikely, she thought to herself.
“Just so,” Rob agreed despite her less than enthusiastic reply.
“Might I meet with Bruxton this week to look at the books?” Rosy asked tentatively. “I should like to know how much money the estate is losing each year so that we can plan a budget related to repairs and improvements that we need to do.”
Rob grit his teeth a bit. “If it shall make you see that the Bruxtons are completely trustworthy then yes, please do that,” he replied a bit snappishly.
Rosy felt her stomach turn over with worry. She hated to displease him so early into their time in the country and especially in the face of his confession earlier about why he did not wish to come to the country any more than he had to. She felt instinctively that something was not correct about the Bruxtons and if the old man was minding the books related to the property’s income, she wished to be certain that her dowry was not being misused. “Thank you, Husband,” she said quietly. “I only wish to be helpful.”
Rob restrained the thought that the way she might help them the most was to produce a daughter as quickly as possible. She did not know the full details about the entail related to his resource-rich property in Kent. Now was not the time to explain that complication to her. “I appreciate that you have taken an interest in the doings of the estate,” he assured her, trying to ease the frustration from his voice. “I wish for you to feel at home here.”
Rosy thought sadly that she had felt entirely at home until she met the Bruxtons. She hated that the brash and bossy Ms. Bruxton could cast such a pall over their first day as husband and wife attending to their properties together. She decided to try and lighten the atmosphere. “Would it be acceptable to hold a fair this summer in honor of our marriage? The villagers and tenants would probably enjoy the break from their hard work and it would help to prove to them all that there is a lady of the house again.”
