by Janet Woods
It wasn’t long before she was naked. She soon washed her hair, rinsing it in rose water. Standing in the pail she began to soap herself all over, then realised she’d forgotten to get the bath sheet. Once rinsed off she was obliged to pulled her chemise over her wet body. The heat coming from the stove would soon dry both it and her hair.
* * * *
Benedict had enjoyed the ride from the adjoining county into Dorset the day before. The countryside was golden with ripening corn. He’d taken a room at an inn at Bridport, which was a mere two miles away from Hartford House. The food had been excellent, the bed clean and comfortable.
Now he closed the wrought iron gates of Hartford House behind him and left his horse unfettered in the shade of an oak tree, appreciating the opportunity to stretch his long legs as he strode off up the long carriageway.
He was aware that he was as imposing a man as his father, both in height and looks. From his mother he’d inherited his blue eyes. From his father a dark head of hair that he wore fashionably short. He’d also inherited an abundance of intelligence, which was sometimes at odds with a heart too soft to be comfortable.
As he rounded the curve in the carriageway he stopped and gazed at the house. It presented as a solidly constructed country residence of faded red-hued brick with arched windows softening its facade. To the left, and separate from the house was a long, solid looking stable building.
He walked around the side of stables and a coach house of similar design as the house. The stables were large enough to contain a schooling area, he noticed. Six fields adjoined the gardens, the whole surrounded by a thickly wooded copse on the coast side. If it ever came up for sale this estate would suit him perfectly.
Four of the fields were given over to corn crops, which was ripening nicely. The wheat would need harvesting in a few short weeks, he noticed. But the laborers must have been dismissed since he saw nobody about. He frowned, hating to see the results of any man’s efforts allowed to go to waste.
He walked though a walled orchard where the trees were laden with ripening fruit. A door led into a kitchen garden. Beyond that was an open door that hung rickety on its hinges, and Benedict found himself in a courtyard.
The windows downstairs were boarded-over, nevertheless there were gaps between the boards. Cupping his eyes with his hands he peered through the gap and found himself looking into a kitchen. A movement drew his glance and his gaze shortened, to be rewarded by the sight of a young woman dressed only in a chemise. Head bent forward she slowly pulled a brush through the long dark mass of her hair.
Mesmerized, he watched her straighten up. She was slender with a firm rounded backside and long, shapely legs. His throat dried when a toss of her head sent her hair tumbling back over her head and down her back. She took up the brush again. Her movement pulled the chemise against the jutting breasts revealing the dark, delicious nubs and the damp triangle of hair just below her belly where the material clung. She was exquisite, and he prayed that this was Amber Rose Hartford and not some kitchen maid.
Benedict couldn’t tear his eyes away when she stepped into a gown, pretty with flowers that covered up her charms. She buttoned the modestly cut bodice up as far as it would go, which was almost to her neck. She then seated herself in a chair and began to braid her hair, head to one side and facing him, her eyes filled with dreaming.
He stayed absolutely still in case she saw him and thought he was a peeping tom. Hell, he was a peeping tom, and just at that moment he was suffering for his sin! He’d just formed an impression of a lushly curving mouth and long eyelashes framing extraordinary grey-green eyes, when those eyes suddenly cleared. For a moment she stared at him, a puzzled frown lightly creasing her forehead. Then her eyes widened. Springing to her feet she stood there for a moment poised for flight, then ran like a gazelle out through a door and into the interior of the house.
Benedict groaned to himself and turned away. If that enchanting morsel he’d seen was Amber Rose Hartford, then he intended to make her acquaintance, and as soon as possible. He might as well introduce himself now she’d seen him.
Giving himself a few moments to compose himself he walked round to the front door and knocked at it. He was being observed; he could feel her glance on him. A shadow moved between the boards when he looked towards the closest window. He imagined her standing behind it, her ears straining to discover what he’d do next - exactly as he was doing, he imagined, and placed his ear against the door. He heard a faint shuffling sound on the other side of the panel.
‘I’m Lord Costain,’ he said. ‘I’m here to visit Miss Amber Rose Hartford.’
No answer was forthcoming.
Benedict decided it might be a good idea to reassure her, thus saving her the agony of maidenly blushes. ‘I’m sorry to arrived unannounced. I thought I saw a maid in the kitchen, but couldn’t be sure since it was too dark. When my eyes adjusted to the dim light I saw the room was empty. Nobody responded when I tapped on the door.’
He took his card from his waistcoat pocket, found a pencil and scribbled a time on the back before sliding it under the door with a loud sigh. ‘I’m staying at the George Inn. Perhaps you’d tell Miss Hartford I’ll be back tomorrow to see her. It’s a matter of business.’
If he’d expected such a ruse to bring this cautious country mouse out of her hole he was disappointed. Instead, her footsteps pattered rapidly away from the door as if she was frightened he’d kick it down. He hoped she didn’t see through the lie, otherwise he wouldn’t have a chance in hell of making her acquaintance on the morrow.
Benedict moved away from the door. Going down the four wide steps to the carriageway, he placed his fingers in his mouth and whistled. A few moments later his horse came cantering up the drive and snuffled into his palm as he stroked him. Foot to the stirrup he mounted, and settled into the saddle before pulling the gelding’s head around and walking him off down the carriageway.
The place could do with a gardener to tidy it up. There was a sense of order under the overgrown grass. The flower-beds were a riot of purple harebells, blood red poppies, goldenrod and heather amongst the weeds. But even the weeds had a flowery summer charm at this time of year. Honeysuckle had extended streamers of flowers that waved in the breeze and carried their sweet tantalising perfume to his nostrils.
Before he went around the curve he looked back and saw her watching him from an upper window, her hair a cloud of shining darkness around her shoulders.
When he tipped his hat the curtain fell across the window and hid her from his sight.
Chapter Three
Amber watched Lord Costain ride away. He’d given her such a fright that her heart still thumped. She was relieved beyond measure to learn that he hadn’t seen her in the kitchen, but mortified to think he might have seen her in a state of undress - or worse, in nothing but her skin!
The manner in which his great black horse has come to his whistle like a well-trained, but oversized dog, and the way Lord Costain had gently caressed the beast’s nose as a reward had made a fine impression on her. Only animals who were treated well would respond in such a way. The pair of them looked well-matched, so powerful and handsome.
Her own dark bay had been sold along with the rest of the stable. She missed the mare, but had to admit she was relieved that she didn’t have the responsibility of looking after her.
After the man rounded the bend she brushed the dust from his card and gazed at it. Gold embossed lettering stood proud of the white background. The Right Hon. the Viscount Costain. Brierly House, Hampshire.
What on earth did a viscount want with her, especially at such an early hour? She grinned and supposed she’d have to keep on wondering until he presented himself on the morrow. If she’d opened the door today instead of hidden like a mouse in a hole, she’d probably already know the answer to that. It was hard to know what to do when her grandfather had never encouraged her to act for herself.
‘Then again, you might be dead if you had op
ened the door ... or something worse,’ she murmured, giving a little shiver even without speculating on what that something worse might be. She’d made the right decision. At least Jake would be with her tomorrow.
Going back down to the kitchen she finished braiding her hair, securing the end with a blue ribbon she’d left there. She tipped the bath water over the flagstones. It would soon dry.
There was a skinned and cleaned rabbit Samuel had left on the table for them. She donned an apron, then quartered the beast. Adding vegetables and water to the pot she hung it from a hook over the stew hearth. Once it was tender she’d thicken the liquid with flour and drop some dumplings in it.
Her feet carried her to the music room and she began to practice. Soon she was lost in the music Bach had composed for the organ. The musical pieces exercised the fingers while they soothed the mind. It also served to remind her that tomorrow was Sunday. Since she hadn’t attended a church service over the past few weeks she’d better turn up in case the Reverend Winter thought to visit her with a lecture. Her eyes narrowed. She’d take Jake with her to remind the reverend’s wife of her lack of charity.
Annoyingly, the Viscount came into her mind. The eyes she’d gazed into had been a deep, clear blue, and he had seemed aware of her. She suddenly remembered the hand that had stroked the velvety nose of the horse, the skin tanned, the fingers strong, the little one adorned with a gold ring.
A blush ran up her neck and various parts of her body seemed to be stimulated by the thought of him, so she stopped playing, squirmed in her seat and pushed her palms against her tingling breasts. Goodness what was wrong with her when the thought of a man she’d barely seen could bring on such a reaction? She hoped she didn’t come out in itchy spots like those caused by the stinging nettles.
Lord Costain was a gentleman. But what if he had seen her naked and had been spying on her. He might have lied to save her from undue embarrassment, or simply as a salve to his own. She giggled, wondering if he’d regard her a strumpet on the morrow.
‘Well, what’s done can’t be changed. You must act as though the encounter had never happened, as he will,’ she told herself.
Jake came back early in the afternoon, a smile on his face and a couple of brown trout hanging from a string. She wrapped them in dampened muslin and placed them on the marble slab in the larder to keep them fresh.
‘Thank you Sam,’ she said to the carter. ‘That’s kind of you.’
He touched his forehead and smiled. ‘They be from your own stream. Jake here did right good at tickling them up, and likely the lad can catch his own fish now. You should lock the door to your kitchen garden, Miss. I saw the reverend’s wife come across the field with a basket of this and that on her arm the other day. Through copse and over the fields into the back of the manse she went, as if she had the right.’
Amber didn’t think there was a key to the kitchen garden door, but she’d look for one. ‘I thought the rabbits had been at the vegetables.’
‘Could be, Miss, though if you lock the door the rabbits won’t be able to get inside, either. Next week I’ll show Jake how to catch one of them varmints and skin it.’
Amber shuddered after Sam had gone. Eating rabbit meat was one thing, killing the animal another thing all together. They had such soft, shining eyes.
She sent Jake upstairs to try on his new clothes. Most of the garments fit him with room to spare. As she rolled his sleeves up she told him, ‘I think those were meant for the stable lad. You’ll grow into them, and there’s another set to change into when those are being washed. You can wear the jacket when you take me to church tomorrow.’
‘His face fell.’
She chuckled. ‘Your parents were respectable and would want you to live up to their standards while you’re able. They expected you attend church with them, did they not?’
He nodded resignedly.
‘Then we will attend the morning service. At four in the afternoon I’m expecting a gentleman visitor who says he has some business to discuss with me. He is Lord Costain who resides in Hampshire. I don’t know what that business might be, perhaps he’s an envoy for my cousin Patrick. I’ll see him in my grandfather’s study. As I haven’t met this gentleman before I’d like you to stay within call, if you would. Firstly as a chaperone, and in case I have to send you to get help.’
‘Yes, Miss.’
She threw Jake’s old clothes into a wicker basket in the corner. She’d wash them and put them away in case somebody else needed them in the future.
They ate their stew at the kitchen table, putting a portion of rabbit and gravy aside for Tansy. The cat ate it then hurried back into the house.
‘Odd,’ Amber said. ‘She hasn’t been outside all day.’
A few minutes later the cat came back with a kitten dangling from her mouth. She dropped it into the wicker basket and disappeared again. Amber and Jake smiled at each other. Three more trips and the cat settled down on Jake’s discarded clothes, purring loudly as the helpless kittens squeaked and rolled over on their backs as they tried to suckle from her.
Kneeling by the basket Amber moved the ginger one into position and whispered to Jake, ‘No wonder Tansy was getting fat. Look how sweet the kittens are. There are two tabbies, a black one and a ginger.’
‘Before you know it there will be thousands of cats running around the place, Miss.’
‘They’ll keep the mice under control.’ Despite Jake’s gloomy prediction the event had quite cheered Amber.
The next morning she donned her bonnet and away they went to church. Heads turned at the sight of her and people began to whisper amongst themselves.
Mrs. Winter took a seat beside her, turned a mean eye her way and said in a rather affronted manner, ‘We understood you’d left the district Miss Hartford. And what’s that boy doing with you? He doesn’t belong in our parish.’
‘I don’t know what gave you the idea that I’d left. I’ve actually been ill for a while. As for Master Jake Selby, he’s a guest in my home, Mrs. Winter.’
‘Your guest? At Hartford House? But the place is boarded up.’
‘As a precaution against thieves until the new Lord Hartford takes up residence.’
‘You want to watch that boy. He’s from London and the place is full of sinners and pickpockets. One of these days he’ll disappear with everything he can lay his hands on.’
Which when all was said and done, were only small hands. Anger kept well under control Amber answered softly, ‘Master Selby is the most trustworthy person I know. However, I’ve been forced to lock the door to the kitchen garden,’ she lied, for she hadn’t found the key as yet. ‘Somebody has been observed stealing our vegetables and they have also taken eggs from under the hens. If that person is seen on the property again I’ll make sure they’re charged with stealing. I imagine they’ll be transported to Botany Bay along with the other felons. I understand it’s a long way off and they’ll probably never see their families again.’
Mrs. Winter’s face, which had turned a dull red now paled.
Amber was not the late Lord Hartford’s granddaughter for nothing. ‘As for Jake Selby, you’re wrong about him, Mrs. Winter. He comes from a respectable scholarly background, and I’d be obliged if you’d apologise for your uncharitable attitude.’ When the woman’s lips pressed into a thin, flat line Amber stared hard at her. ‘Well?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m sure,’ she mumbled.
‘Thank you. Now, as you know, this is the Hartford pew. Kindly find somewhere else to sit, Mrs. Winter. I find your presence to be quite irksome.’
Jake gave a soft snort when the woman went away. Amber tried not to laugh but her shoulders were shaking when she knelt to pray.
‘What did you pray for, Miss?’ Jake asked her afterwards.
‘That I wouldn’t burst into laughter, and that Lord Costain’s business will be of benefit to us. Now, let’s go and see the farmer before we return home. I want to come to some arrangement about harvesting ou
r corn crops. It would be a shame to let them go to waste. I was thinking he might accept a quarter share as payment.’
He’d accept half. ‘I’ll have to provide the labor, and you never know what price the corn exchange will place on the crop. If this weather keeps up the wheat yield should be a good’un, and you’ll do nicely enough, girl.’
‘But what if the new Lord Hartford turns up and he doesn’t like the arrangement.’
‘Aye, well, I’m not used to dealing with the twists and turns of a female mind, but I reckon I’d tell him the same as I’m about to tell you. He can take it or he can leave it. He won’t be able to hire any labourers at this time of year and the corn will rot in the field, otherwise. Tell you what, Missy, I’ll scarify the stubble after as a favour to the new Lord Hartford. It’ll make the earth easier for ploughing. And as well as the milk from the cow I’ll give that skinny London lad of yours sixpence every week for mucking out her byre. Just until the harvest is over. mind.’
‘What do you think, Jake? The work involved is dirty.’
‘And I can earn twice as much money looking after gentlemen’s horses in town while they go about their business.’
‘Ninepence then,’ the farmer said.
Amber decided to bargain with him. ‘One shilling and a loaf of bread every other day as well as the milk. And Jake will need a smock to go over his clothes, and boots to wear while he’s on the job.’
The farmer gave a throaty chuckle. ‘Damn me, girl, only the full time laborers get boots and smocks. You’ll have me giving him a bed for the night next.’ He heaved a sigh when she put her hands on her hips. ‘All right. I reckon my missus can manage an extra loaf, and I’ve got a smock and boots my own lad has outgrown, and some breeches as well, most likely. Tenpence is all I’ll pay, though. And that’s my final offer.’
Amber gazed at the lad. ‘Jake? I’m sure you could put your brain to better use, but it’s up to you.’
