by S. G. Rogers
A shock ran through Miles. That beautiful woman I saw was Lara?
“The silly thing went on foot,” Fiona said. “She’ll freeze on the way home.”
“I’ll send a servant in the carriage to fetch her,” Mr. Robinson said.
“My brother will be happy to go,” William said. “Won’t you, Miles?”
Startled, Miles flinched. “Oh, er, yes. Of course.”
Five pairs of eyes latched onto him. The Robinsons had been so engrossed with their other visitors, they’d seemingly forgotten he was there.
“You remember my brother Miles, I trust?” William asked.
Mrs. Robinson blinked at Miles. “My, but you’ve grown since you were here last!”
“I’m not sure if I would have known you,” Mr. Robinson said. “William, your brother has become quite the gentleman.”
“He’s doing wonderfully well at Cambridge,” Angelica said.
“And he’s a valued member of the Cambridge Boat Club,” William added. “We’re very proud of him.”
“It’s lovely to see you again, Mr. Greystoke.” Fiona sketched a graceful curtsy.
“The pleasure is mine.” Miles bowed. “And now if I may have my coat, I’ll retrieve your sister.”
Fiona slid him a glance underneath her eyelashes. “How very gallant.”
Chapter Two
Young Mr. Greystoke
AFTER LARA TOOK CARE of Mrs. Coogan’s immediate needs, she fed the children and set them a few tasks while she cleaned and tidied the place as best she could. She’d brought a tray into Mrs. Coogan’s bedroom and coaxed her into drinking a cup of hot tea and eating a biscuit with preserves. The woman’s color was slightly better afterward, to Lara’s relief. There’s so little food in the house, I expect she’s going without so the children can eat.
The chime of the rustic cuckoo clock hanging on the wall reminded her she was running late. She bit back a groan when she noticed heavy snowfall was pelting down outside. Worse, she’d sloshed water down the front of her dress when carrying the bucket in from the pump, and her boots were damp. I’ll be lucky not to catch my death! As she donned her coat, she wondered if she ought not stay at the Coogans’ until the storm passed. Eager to see Angelica, William, and the baby, she bit her lip with frustration. I must admit, I’m curious to see Miles Greystoke again—despite the fact I made a complete idiot of myself with him before.
The sound of a carriage stopping outside the cottage brought Lara running to the window. A wave of relief washed over her when she recognized her father’s brougham. Dearest Papa has come to my rescue! She gathered up her basket, scarf, and gloves, and said good-bye to the children. The two eldest were peeling potatoes at the table, and Helen was making a mountain with the peels.
“Don’t forget what I told you,” Lara said. “If you put those potatoes in a pot and heat them with a bit of the ham, you’ll have a nice dinner tonight. Take care of your mama, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She dashed from the house just as Ned opened the carriage door. Instead of her father, however, a tall handsome stranger emerged. Bewildered, she stopped short, skidding a short distance on a patch of ice. “Who are you?”
The young man tipped his top hat. “Hello, Miss Lara. I’ve come to escort you home.”
His deep, masculine voice sent a delicious shiver down her spine. “I’m sorry, but are we acquainted?”
His somewhat shy smile revealed even, white teeth. “Perhaps you don’t remember me, but I’m William Greystoke’s younger brother, Miles.”
She bit back a gasp and her mind went numb. “Of course. I remember you.”
When his gaze met hers, she felt her face grow hot with embarrassment. Not only was her dress wet and dirty, but several strands of hair had come free of their pins and were drifting across her face. Fiona didn’t wish to greet Miles with a red nose, and yet here I am, looking like a charwoman! She tucked a loose lock of hair behind one ear and glanced at the carriage driver.
“Ned, will you tie that handcart behind the carriage?”
“Yes, Miss Lara.”
Miles helped her into the carriage and climbed in after, giving Lara no time to collect herself. She marveled at his transformation. Had Miles not introduced himself, she would not have known him at all…except perhaps his eyes were unchanged. His athletic physique bore no resemblance to the plump boy she remembered, and his rounded face was now angular. More familiar was his mouth…except his lower lip had grown slightly more generous—and tantalizing. Her prior innocent and tender feelings suddenly acquired a visceral quality she’d never experienced before. The unsettling sensations his physical presence aroused were unwelcome, and she tried to steel herself against their hypnotic effects. I must wrap my shredded dignity around my heart like a coat of armor. He must never suspect my attraction to him or I will be completely undone.
Miles took the seat facing hers. The dusting of snowflakes on his broad shoulders and the brim of his hat resembled sugar. On the short drive back to Blythe Manor, Lara attempted to fill the silence with conversation. “Mrs. Coogan needed my help today. She’s to have a baby soon and she’s very weak.” She paused. “Nevertheless, I regret I wasn’t home to receive you properly.”
“Your parents and sister made me feel welcome.”
“I’m terribly grateful you brought the carriage. I wasn’t looking forward to walking in the snow.” Am I babbling? I cannot seem to catch my breath.
“Fiona seemed worried you’d end up in a snowdrift.”
With a sinking heart, Lara fell silent, staring out the window at nothing. So Mr. Greystoke came for me as a favor to Fiona. He dislikes me more than ever.
Miles drank in Lara’s profile, marveling at its symmetry. Did she always have that adorable little cleft in her chin, or am I noticing it just now? He became acutely aware just how enticing her full lips had become—as well as the curve of her bodice. I’ve cared for her the last four years, but now I find her desirable beyond all imagining. Have I changed enough to attract her notice…or does she still regard me as a dolt? He cleared his throat. “I’m matriculating at Cambridge now.”
When she turned her head toward him, he rejoiced. Her profile was beautiful, but her eyes were exquisite.
“Angelica mentioned that in her letters. Do you like it?”
“I do, yes. My classmates are congenial fellows.” Several more seconds passed before Miles could think of something else to say. “H-How have you been?” He was glad the dimly lit carriage interior obscured the dull flush most assuredly creeping up from his collar. Could I not devise anything more engaging? Why don’t I just mention the weather?
“I manage to stay busy,” she replied. “There’s a great deal of charity work to be done in Blythe Village, especially this time of year.”
“That’s very admirable.”
“I hope your parents are well?”
“Tolerably, thank you. My father would like me to manage his estate when I graduate, but William wants me to be a barrister like him.”
“Which way do you lean?”
“Actually, I’d like to study veterinary medicine. Many of my father’s tenants raise sheep or horses, and I could make myself useful.”
Did a gleam of interest set Lara’s eyes dancing, or was it a trick of the light?
“That would dovetail nicely with managing your father’s estate, I think,” she said.
“Exactly.” A pleasantly warm flame ignited within his chest. Lara, at least, understands when my family does not.
“You used to have a Golden Retriever, as I recall. How is she?”
“Sadly, Penelope died giving birth to a litter of puppies about three years ago.”
“How terrible! I’m so sorry to hear it. You must have been devastated.”
“Her loss was very difficult. I believe that’s where my interest in veterinary medicine originated. I dearly wish I could have saved her—or at least the pups.”
“The pups died too?”
; “All but one. We named him Aladdin.”
“Ah, after one of your favorite stories.”
The flame inside him grew hotter. Lara remembers our discussion of The Book of One Thousand and One Nights. “Yes. I’ve had the opportunity to assist in the birth of several horses since then. It’s quite a miraculous process, although it’s not for the faint of heart.”
“I admire your fortitude.”
When the carriage stopped at Blythe Manor, Miles escorted Lara inside. They joined their families in the drawing room, and as her attention turned to Angelica, William, and the baby, he felt bereft. It’s as I feared; my attachment to Lara has only increased. I’m irrevocably in love.
Although Lara took genuine pleasure in seeing her elder sister, brother-in-law, and nephew, she was aware of Miles’s presence the entire time. Even as she cooed over the baby, she was thinking about their strangely dry conversation in the carriage. How can I still feel so much for him and yet say so little?
Finally Mr. Robinson rang for servants to show the guests to their rooms. Lara retired to change her dress and fix her hair before lunch. Her reflection in the looking glass was sobering. A sooty smudge had found its way onto her jaw, her gown was filthy, and her hair was in disarray. Yet, her eyes were sparkling with excitement. I must take care not to display my emotions so openly, lest Miles’s dislike of me deepen further.
When Elsie arrived to help her dress, Lara told her about the morning’s visit.
“I don’t think your mother is getting enough to eat,” she said. “I’ll go check on her again tomorrow.”
“I’m ever so grateful for anything you could do right now, Miss Lara. As soon as my mother is on her feet again, things will get better.”
“From the look of it, I believe the baby will be here any day.”
Lara changed into a dress she hoped would complement her honey blond hair and gray eyes. As Elsie twisted Lara’s hair into a chignon, Fiona appeared. Her gaze flickered over Lara’s gown.
“Are you wearing Cambridge Blue in honor of our handsome guest?” she asked.
“It’s just a blue dress,” Lara replied.
“Of course it is. Mr. Greystoke is not such a little lump anymore,” Fiona said. “Who could have predicted he would become so terribly good looking?”
“I’m glad you’re delighted with his appearance. I daresay some ladies found him just as agreeable before.”
“You needn’t pretend he hasn’t improved.”
“Fiona, a man possessing good character, intelligence, and a kindly nature is more important than a rugged jawline, deep-set eyes, and dashing figure.” Although Mr. Greystoke possesses all those qualities.
“Then you won’t mind marriage to Sir Harry.” Her sister smirked as she flounced from the room.
“We’re having a party in your honor on Boxing Day,” Fiona announced at lunch. “There’s to be music, dancing, and games. Practically every family in the neighborhood is coming.” She slid an insinuating glance toward Lara. “Including Sir Harry.”
Since she was too far away to kick Fiona under the table, Lara settled for giving her a quelling glance.
William’s eyebrows rose. “Does our Lara have a suitor?”
“No—” Lara began.
“Yes, she does,” Fiona interrupted. “Sir Harry is madly in love with her.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lara could see Miles staring. If she’d been suddenly stripped naked, she could not have felt more embarrassed. “My sister vastly overstates the case. It’s entirely possible the gentleman will make her an offer of marriage.”
“Am I acquainted with Sir Harry?” William asked.
“He attended your wedding, but I doubt you would remember,” Mr. Robinson said. “Sir Harry is a very respectable fellow, and a former military commander.”
“He’s a bit…mature to be contemplating marriage again, is he not?” Angelica asked. “Forgive me for saying so, but Lara would end up being his caretaker sooner rather than later.”
“I’ve no intention of marrying Sir Harry!” Lara exclaimed. “None whatsoever.”
“Lara likes taking care of people,” Fiona said. “She’s always doing charity work in Blythe Village, but the poor are determined to stay poor. What is your opinion, Mr. Greystoke? Do you believe ministering to the downtrodden is a worthwhile activity?”
“The human condition cannot be changed,” Miles replied.
Lara peered at him, aghast. “Should those who are more fortunate than others turn a blind eye to poverty?”
“Not at all. However, I’ve noticed some men who inherit great fortunes fritter it all away in frivolous pastimes. Conversely, others of humble birth manage to create enormous wealth for themselves. There will always be inequality and poverty, no matter what any of us do.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Fiona said. “I believe the poor secretly despise us for our assistance. Let the church minister to the wretches and leave the rest of us alone.”
“The church can do nothing without its congregation,” Lara said. “We are the church.”
“I’m not expressing myself particularly well,” Miles said. “I simply believe that much of our efforts toward the poor are wasted.”
“Exactly!” Fiona exclaimed.
A sense of disappointment made Lara’s food taste like sawdust. Mr. Greystoke used to have a far bigger heart. As she choked down a mouthful of chicken, she realized her throat was scratchy. Her eyes stung slightly, and her head had begun to ache. With an apologetic smile, she tucked her folded napkin next to her plate and stood.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m unwell. I’m going to lie down for a while.”
“It’s no wonder you caught a chill, traipsing around outside in the snow,” Fiona said.
“Poor dear,” Mrs. Robinson said. “I’ll have one of the maids bring you some tea with honey and lemon.”
On the way up the stairs, Lara paused at the landing where a white plaster bust of Queen Victoria graced a niche in the wall. After glancing over her shoulder to make sure she was unobserved, she tilted the statue and felt underneath. Nothing was there, of course, and she berated herself for a surge of disappointment. I’m silly for hoping otherwise.
The snowstorm abated that afternoon, and Mr. Robinson suggested the gentlemen accompany him to York for some Christmas shopping.
“Why York?” William asked. “Wouldn’t Blythe Village suffice?”
Mr. Robinson leaned in, whispering so he would not be overheard. “Mrs. Robinson has mentioned several times lately that her favorite millinery shop is located in York. As a dutiful husband, I must therefore take the hint.”
On the journey, Miles ceded the lion’s share of the conversation to Mr. Robinson and William. As he stared out at the snowy landscape, he felt a sense of melancholy descend. Lara’s wounded expression at his response to Fiona’s question had cut him to the quick. Although she’d excused herself from the table, claiming she was unwell, he suspected her departure was hastened by his ill-considered remarks.
William tapped him on the shoulder. “Say, old chap, you appear to be woolgathering.”
“Oh…I’m a bit worried about Miss Lara’s health.”
“She caught a chill this morning, no doubt,” Mr. Robinson said. “I expect a good night’s sleep will set her right again.”
“I confess I feel somewhat oafish after our conversation at lunch. It seems I cannot please the one Miss Robinson without vexing the other.”
Mr. Robinson roared with laughter. “It has always been thus from birth with those two. I think you must choose between them and behave accordingly.”
Inwardly, Miles sighed. The choice is clear, but it’s the behavior that’s the sticking point. It’s as if I can’t formulate a concise thought when Lara is near, and my tongue becomes clumsy. Oh, why do I torture myself with the hope she will ever think well of me?
After a fitful afternoon in bed, Lara was forced to admit she had indeed caught a cold. The tea Elsie brought so
othed her throat for a little while, but her rising temperature soon made her feel miserable again. Although her forehead was burning up, she could not seem to get warm. Elsie finally spread another comforter on her bed. As the maid tossed another log on the fire, Lara was reminded of the Coogans. Perhaps if I rest quietly, I’ll be well enough by morning to pay them a call.
“Will you please tell Mama I’m ill and won’t be coming down for dinner?” Her voice sounded raspy and unpleasant.
“Right away, Miss Lara.”
When Lara next opened her eyes, her mother had come into the room and was draping a cold, moist compress over her forehead. “Sorry to wake you, dear. Should we call the surgeon?”
“I doubt there is anything Mr. Worth could do for me.” As her mother turned away, Lara caught her hand. “Mama, if I’m not able to take food over to the Coogans tomorrow, will you go in my stead?”
“With house guests, it would be difficult for me to leave. I’ll ask your sister.”
Although she wanted to give Fiona the benefit of the doubt, Lara did not believe her sister would willingly volunteer. As she drifted off to sleep, she was determined to get better as quickly as possible.
After Miles returned home from the shopping trip to York, he tucked his wrapped gifts under the Christmas tree. He’d purchased a stereoscope for the Robinson family, along with several packets of stereograph cards, a new pen for his brother, a wooden jumping jack for Billy, and a box of stationery for Angelica. As he shopped, he wished he could find something of special significance for Lara, but he didn’t find anything that caught his eye. It’s just as well; she made it clear long ago my attentions are unwelcome.
As he mounted the stairs on his way to dress for dinner, he could not stop staring at the niche at the landing. Although he felt foolish, he lifted the bust of Queen Victoria to see if anything lay underneath. He chuckled when he found nothing. What did I anticipate?
