Before he could respond, she wheeled the gelding and yelled, “Race you back to the stables.”
For a moment, Justin watched the petite figure hunched forward over her horse’s withers, her hair streaming out behind her.
Kicking his stallion into action, Lord Alistair raced after his ward, feeling younger than he had in a long time.
Chapter 3
The two horses rocketed into the stable yard in a dead heat. Laughing, Winter pulled up her mount and proceeded to walk him slowly until Jupiter’s breathing eased. Beside her, Justin, too, cooled off his mount. As they pulled up, grooms ran out to hold the horses.
Swinging from the roan, Justin reached for Winter. Spanning her tiny waist with his large hands, he gently lifted her from the saddle and set her on her feet.
He smiled down at her with a boyish grin that caught her breath.
Blushing, she stepped away from the hands still holding her waist. “Jupiter is small, but he was born and bred as a racehorse.”
“I’ll remember that.” Lord Alistair assisted her up the path to the wide steps of the colonnaded front of the manor. Duncan opened the door.
“Dinner usual time, m’lady?” He hesitated, then asked, “For two?”
Glancing up at her escort, Winter nodded. “I should have asked. Will you stay? I am sure that ride must have given you an appetite.” Winter caught the approval in the old retainer’s face and knew Duncan had accepted Lord Alistair as her rightful guardian.
At Justin’s knowing grin in her direction, he knew it, too, and that irritated her. “Of course, it is getting late. If you must be on your way, I understand.”
She knew her emotions chased themselves across her face for Lord Alistair to see. His grin flashed from Duncan to Winter. “Yes, I would be honored to stay. Thank you.”
Despite her annoyance, Winter could not still the pleasure she felt at his acceptance. As Jenny from the village showed Lord Alistair up to a room in which to wash up, she hurried to her bedchamber.
Winter slid out of her dusty clothes and washed up. Mrs. Duncan held up her royal blue silk gown. “Here’s a chance to wear that new gown we finished.”
Winter added a white sash and white kid slippers. After Mrs. Duncan clasped a strand of pearls around Winter’s neck, the older woman picked up a silver-backed brush and tackled Winter’s tangled locks.
Pulling a blue ribbon from the drawer, the older woman tied it around Winter’s hair. Winter smiled when the woman stood back with a contented sigh.
* * *
As Winter entered the parlour, she found Lord Alistair already there looking quite presentable after washing up and straightening his wilted cravat. His eyes widened with appreciation when he saw her. Only a slight hesitation in her gait gave evidence of her limp, and she hoped he wouldn’t notice.
He bowed over her trembling hand. “You look lovely this evening, Lady Renton.”
Winter pulled her hand from his grasp. She was relieved when the butler announced dinner.
“May I?” Taking her arm in his, Lord Alistair escorted her to the table for all the world, Winter thought, as though she were a lady of consequence.
His deference toward her throughout the many courses should have pleased her. Instead, she wondered how often he played the role, if indeed it was a role, of a practiced London dandy.
While they consumed the tender duck in a delicate mushroom sauce, he told her about his estate.
“Do you really like it?” she asked. “The food, I mean, not your estate.”
“Best country food I’ve tasted in an age.” He added, “Be thankful you have such a splendid cook. Not all that usual in the country. However, please don’t tell that to my chef in London or he’ll go off in a pique.”
“We are blessed in that regard.” Winter smiled.
“Mayhap you’re right, Winter.” His gaze rested on her with obvious appreciation. “I am blessed to partake with such a gracious, lovely companion.”
Discomposed, she lowered her long lashes, shuttering her eyes from view. “I am sure you are fluent in your flattery, but it is unnecessary in my case.”
Pausing, Lord Alistair’s lips twisted cynically. “I don’t waste my compliments or make them undeserved, I assure you.”
Lord Alistair’s return to his earlier sarcasm drained the joy Winter felt in his presence. Later, as his lordship sipped his wine, she felt his contemplative gaze on her. “You’ve gotten very quiet.”
Winter glanced up. “I thought you might be angry with me.”
Lord Alistair’s eyebrow raised in surprise. “No, I am, in fact, quite glad to be here, enjoying this dinner with you. It certainly isn’t what I contemplated when I came to see about my ward.”
She tensed, her hand gripping her utensil. “What did you expect—a dim-witted child too disabled to know her own mind?”
Lord Alistair frowned. Putting down his wineglass with deliberation, he said, “How was I to know I would find, instead, a very lovely, self-assured young woman?”
Winter’s lashes flickered momentarily over her eyes to hide the confusion in her heart at the compliment. “I see,” Lord Alistair said as though he knew how she felt. His next words revealed how much he did know. “So you are unused to compliments. What a shame for such a lovely young woman to be hidden away in the country.”
To distract her guardian from further flattery, Winter asked, “Tell me about yourself, Lord...ah, Justin.”
Lord Alistair’s long fingers on the stem of the goblet swished the last drops of wine in the glass as though debating what to say. “I have one brother, he’s...” Again the hesitation. “He spent time in India.” He stared at the Waterford crystal glass in his hand.
“After Mother died, Father decided to sail to India. He said he needed to get away from all the memories for a while. As you probably already know, his ship sank. No survivors.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” She reached out and touched Justin’s arm.
Swallowing, he forced a smile as he covered her hand with his own. “So, I have the country seat, Stuart Park, the London town house, a hunting lodge in Scotland and other properties.”
Feeling decidedly awkward, Winter extricated her hand. She felt they somehow spoke on two different levels, and she did not quite understand what was happening. “Are you expanding your farms to help in the war effort?” Her question diffused the situation. She sighed with relief. If he noticed, Lord Alistair let it go.
“Yes, and I noticed your new method of crop rotation. Has it increased the production of your farms?”
Winter grimaced. “Yes, once I convinced the farmers of the wisdom of the plan. Of course, it’s all new for us, and it is too early to see if the new system will benefit in the long-term.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever known farm matters to interest anyone of the female persuasion, with the exception of my mother.” His gaze softened and Winter knew his mother came to mind.
“Well, I am certainly interested in preserving my nation. Should we have a full-scale war with Boney, we’ll need all our resources.”
“You don’t think the truce will hold?” Lord Alistair leaned forward to hear her response.
“Do you? If war comes, what about all those foolish Englishmen who have gone to France thinking Napoleon has given up his plan to rule the world?”
A look Winter couldn’t interpret crossed Lord Alistair’s face as he spoke slowly. “I would like to think Boney will keep his word, but can’t quite convince myself he will do so.”
Deftly, and so quickly Winter glanced at him warily, he changed the subject. “Truthfully, I have been studying how to expand my own farming operation.”
When Winter registered surprise, he said with chagrin in his tone, “Did you not consider that I might take my responsibilities to my
estates seriously?”
Winter blushed. “I...ah...”
“I presume—” she heard the sarcasm in his tone as he continued and something more—pain “—you’ve only heard rumors. Seems you made as many judgments about me as I did about you.”
“Mayhap.” She cast about for a way to pick up the thread of their earlier topic. “About crop rotation...”
As though recognizing the wisdom in backing away, Lord Alistair said, “I’ve been reading up on it and what I discovered...”
As they spoke together, Lord Alistair shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever known any woman as intelligent or as interested in farming as you,” he told her. “I’m beginning to doubt, not for the first time, mind you, the prevailing wisdom spouting the ‘fact’ that females do not have the same capacity for reasoning as men. Obviously, those experts never met you.”
* * *
He thought of Amelia, seeing her artificially red lips pout at him whenever he broached any subject other than herself, her arms reaching for him cloyingly. His expression hardened with the pain of his thoughts and Winter faltered midsentence.
“Justin?” she questioned.
With a start, Lord Alistair remembered Winter. “Excuse me. What did you say?”
Winter shook her head. “It wasn’t important.”
Her guardian caught her look of disappointment. Leaning forward, he took her hand in his. “I do tender my apologies. It was uncivil of me to let my mind wander. An old problem came to mind, and...”
Winter’s hand trembled in his. “I know you’re probably bored spending the evening talking about farming with a country girl, rather than cutting a dash in some London drawing room.”
“Bored, no.” He knew nothing but the truth would serve. “If you must know, I was thinking I have never really seriously conversed with a woman before, not like I’ve been discussing with you. I find it intriguing, not boring.” He squeezed her hand and released it. “I’m talking to you like I would to a man...or a friend.”
He let Winter search his face for the truth of the matter. “Friend. You mean that? I haven’t had many friends.”
“Then I trust you will count me as one.”
“I’d like that, Justin.” Winter’s smile warmed Lord Alistair’s heart.
As dinner drew to a close, Winter stood. “This is the time I should leave you to your port.”
“Please. I have no desire for my own company tonight, and less desire for port.” Getting to his feet, he took her arm. “To the parlour, m’lady.”
Later when Winter surreptitiously yawned behind her hand, Lord Alistair reluctantly stood. Taking her hand, he bowed. “Thank you for a most enjoyable evening, Winter.”
She looked at him as though she suspected he jested. “Justin?”
“Whatever else you believe of me, Winter,” he said, “I am truthful.”
He was already taking his leave when the butler announced in disapproving tones, “Viscount Derik insists on seeing you, m’lady. He waits in the west parlour.”
Sighing, she got up. Lord Alistair did not miss the annoyance that crossed her face. Discreetly, he followed her into the parlour.
Lord Alistair admired the way she straightened and focused on the haughty face of her would-be suitor. The viscount bowed smoothly, but Lord Alistair noticed he made no attempt to take her hand. “Winter, quite the thing tonight. I fully approve. Once we get you decked out in the latest Paris fashions...”
His flattery grated with insincerity. “Thank you, Anthony, but flattery is unnecessary and will not make me bend to your will one wit. Now why did you see the need to come here at this time of night?”
“If we could but sit down and talk things over.” Lord Alistair tensed when the viscount touched her cheek.
“I think not, Viscount Derik.” Winter’s shoulders straightened. “It is far too late to deal with your interests tonight. What do you want?”
He smiled, but his smile did not reach his eyes. Still, Lord Alistair wondered if he was projecting his own concerns onto the man. “It is lonely here at Renton Hall, isn’t it, Winter? Very isolated. Are you sure you are safe here? I am concerned.” Lord Alistair saw Winter shiver. “Let me take care of you, Winter.”
As Winter tensed, the viscount hurried on. “Think of it. We’d deal well together, you and I. With our merging, as I said before, we would hold one of the largest estates this side of London. It is a chance to pass all this on to children, your children.”
“I know you are overinterested in enlarging your estate, but...” Winter bit her lip. Lord Alistair bristled at the man’s manipulation of the vulnerable young woman. The image of her being at his mercy in the most intimate of moments sent a chill down his spine.
Glancing up, Winter held the viscount’s gaze. “I am sorry, Anthony, but believe I have already given you a clear response. I refuse to be a part of a marriage farce such as you propose. One without love. Why not choose some comely young woman who is being popped off this season?”
“I am more interested in someone who prefers the country.” The viscount’s lips thinned. “Besides, how can an unfledged chit like you hope to run this estate alone? Do you want me to make you love me?” His gaze narrowed. “I can do the pretty for you, if that is what you need...”
He would have said more, but Lord Alistair stepped out of the shadows. Putting his large hands on Winter’s shoulders, he was surprised at her delicate bone structure.
The viscount took a step back at the earl’s sudden appearance. “M’lord?”
“Viscount Derik.”
“Lord Alistair, isn’t it?” Lord Derik acknowledged grudgingly. His glance slid to Winter. “What is he doing here? I am certain he hasn’t proposed marriage. He’s not the marrying kind.”
“Oh, be quiet, Anthony,” she told him in the voice of one used to the antics of an old, if not always welcomed, childhood acquaintance. “Lord Alistair was just leaving. He is my guardian and trustee of the estate.” The viscount’s astonishment was almost worth the burden of the guardianship.
Lord Derik spluttered, “Your guardian?” He caught himself. “Your father must have been ready for Bedlam to do a thing like that!”
“Father was quite up to snuff, as you well know,” Winter exhorted.
Lord Alistair surveyed the other gentleman. “In truth, Lady Renton can make no major decisions without my approval. That is the way things are, Lord Derik, and pressuring her will not make me favor your suit in my eyes or hers.”
“Then persuade Winter of the truth of what I say. You know she can’t stay here alone indefinitely.”
“You think you’re the only choice around?”
“In truth, yes.”
Lord Alistair squeezed her shoulder lightly in reassurance. “My ward needs time right now. She is in mourning, but in time—” the words slipped out without thought “—a London season might be in order.” Even as the words formed, he realized his responsibilities extended much further than he had considered. But this time, they didn’t seem so burdensome.
“Viscount Derik, until that time, I suggest you leave off pressuring Lady Renton.”
Lord Derik scowled. “I doubt you have shared your plans with her. She hasn’t even been out to church since her father died. Do you not think her...her...problems will escape notice of the London tabbies? A London season is not for her.”
Winter’s head snapped up. “That is between Lord Alistair and myself, Anthony. Please. It is time for you to leave.”
Without waiting for his reply, Winter turned and limped from the room.
At Lord Alistair’s penetrating gaze, the viscount quickly took his leave. After making sure the man was indeed leaving, Lord Alistair followed Winter back to the salon in which they’d spent such a pleasant evening. He found Winter standing stiffly
in front of the hearth, staring blindly into the flames.
Silently he peered into her tense face. Startled, her large blue eyes beseeched his. “He is gone?” At his nod, she expelled a long slow breath. “Anthony can be overbearing at times.”
For a long moment she remained silent, then asked, “Is he right about London? I do not desire a season.” She sucked in a deep breath. “Must I really consult you before every decision?”
At this, Lord Alistair smiled. “Only major decisions. As for the other, we’ll see. I want you to think of me as a friend to whom you’ll go for help or advice.”
His smile faded. “I do have a responsibility to keep in touch with you and to make certain you are taken care of and to make sure you not being harassed by the likes of Lord Derik.”
Winter sucked in a deep breath. “Then you won’t force me to marry him.”
“Never! Too pompous by half.”
“Quite.” She grinned with relief.
“Satisfied, dear Winter?” Reaching for her hand he found it cold. “Trust me.” After rubbing some warmth into her hand, he gently brought it to his lips. “Now, I really must take my leave. If ever you need anything, anything at all—send for me. Promise?”
* * *
“Promise.” Winter tried to pass off the excitement she felt as his lips brushed her fingers. From his controlled actions, she could almost pretend her hands were not repulsive.
With a disquieting sadness, she watched him stride away. Even so, a strange joy welled up inside. He had not taken anything away. Though, if she were honest, she would have also admitted her joy came from the sure knowledge that she would see him again.
“Thank You, Lord, for Justin,” she whispered, then softly smiled.
Chapter 4
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove.
Sitting back on the tapestried armchair by his desk, Lord Alistair glanced away from the sampler embroidered so many years ago by his great aunt when she was but a child. The poem reminded him of the previous night at Covent Gardens, where an actor quoted it.
A Proper Guardian Page 3
