Romantic Legends

by Kathryn Le Veque

  He frowned lightly. “I do. Others must as well. Ah, I know where I heard it mentioned. At the inn I stopped by yesterday. Some ladies were chatting about you, a bit imprudently, I fear. Three slightly dotty, older gentlewomen, but they seemed harmless enough. Harmony, Serenity, and…”

  “Prudence,” she suggested with an arch of her eyebrow.

  His lips turned upward to form a grin. “Yes, the Merridale sisters. I mentioned that I would be passing through Grasmere and they asked me stop by Kingsley Hall and pay my respects to little Winifred Aurora.”

  Winnie groaned. “My godmothers may appear innocent, but they can be quite persuasive and diabolical. No doubt they were concerned about our leaking roof and you seemed just the capable, trustworthy sort who could repair it.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “I’m not easily duped, but it appears I was. So that was their interest in me?”

  She winced at the thought of their scheme, realizing they’d be aghast to learn she’d given the servants the weekend off and would be alone for much of the time. The possibility that they were matchmaking crossed her mind, but she dismissed it at once. As handsome as this stranger was, he no longer served in the King’s navy and therefore was unemployed. He traveled on foot and she’d almost tripped over a pouch that probably held his worldly possessions. In other words, he was also itinerant. “Are you?”

  “Am I what?”

  “Trustworthy.” At first, he had appeared quite the rogue, but there was a thoughtful intelligence about his eyes that drew her in. Also, he’d behaved like a gentleman after saving her from the pack of wild dogs, even while she had been on the ground caught up in her veils and flailing her arms and legs like a ridiculous turtle.

  He nodded. “Certainly trustworthy enough to fix the manor’s leaking roof.”

  “You mustn’t be alarmed,” she said with a merry laugh. “I have no intention of allowing you to do it. I’ll have one of the local carpenters attend to it after the fair. As for my being little Winifred Aurora, I’ve been taking care of my godmothers for several years now, only they don’t quite realize it. They still think of me as a little girl, but I’m well on the way to becoming a spinster.”

  He ran his hand roughly across the back of his neck and cleared his throat. “You’re decidedly not a child, but neither would I call you an ancient relic.”

  She laughed at the jest.

  “You will think me impertinent and rude, but just how old are you?”

  “That is impertinent. A lady never tells.”

  He put up his hands in surrender. “Then let’s return to the safer topic of your roof.”

  “Our house is quite habitable… other than the aforementioned leaky roof. We also have some creaky doors that are in desperate need of oiling.”

  He shook his head and dropped his hands to his sides. “Will you let me attend to those?”

  “I don’t think so. It wouldn’t be proper. And what sort of reward is that for saving my life?”

  “Very well. You shall have it your way for now. I shall not call you Princess Aurora because you obviously don’t like it, although the name suits you. I shall explain why at another time, should we ever meet again. I shall not fix your roof or oil your doors.” He glanced down the road. “However, Princess Winifred, may I escort you to the fair?”

  “Just plain Winnie will do.” He’d teasingly referred to her as a princess, no doubt realizing by her costume that she must be one of the May princesses. She sighed and shrugged her shoulders. “All my friends call me Winnie, as you must since you just saved me from that pack of wild dogs.”

  She didn’t bother to mention that she actually had no friends now that Cadence, her best and only companion, had married and moved to London. “I had better let Lord Darkwell know they might still be wandering about.” She glanced around, her gaze fixing on the woods. “Did they run back in there? I thought you’d killed them all. It certainly sounded that way from their shrieks and yet there isn’t a sign of their ever having existed. Most odd.”

  “Those creatures won’t bother you again, I hope. But there may be others prowling about.” He picked up his pouch, slung it over his shoulder, and then crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at her. “I’ll escort you home once the fair ends.”

  She opened her mouth to dismiss his offer. Her godmothers were out of town, and it would be quite scandalous to invite him in with no one present to act as chaperone. However, she quickly snapped it shut. First of all, it wasn’t so much an offer as a command. Second of all, those dogs were like no others she’d ever seen before. Although she’d caught a mere glimpse of them before firmly shutting her eyes and curling her body into a ball, they had appeared hairless and oily with sharp talons.

  What if they, or others, were still hiding in the woods waiting to attack?

  Captain Mariner had merely said he would escort her home. She didn’t have to invite him in. Nor would her godmothers have sent him here, whatever their purpose, if they held doubts about his character. “Thank you, I’d like that.”

  She had another reason thank him, Winnie realized as they walked side by side on the path to Grasmere. He’d given her a legitimate excuse for being late to the fair. Lord and Lady Darkwell would never admonish her once they learned of the attack by those wild dogs. That excuse was better than anything she could have dreamed up.

  “If you don’t mind my asking, Captain,” she said wryly, trying her best to keep up with his long strides, “what’s your real name?”

  He cast her a glance, his lips almost tilting upward in a smile. “Don’t you believe I’m a sea captain? I rather like the sound of it, Captain Ardaric Mariner.”

  “I don’t mean your masquerade… not who you are in your costume, but your everyday name. Or am I asking too impertinent a question?” She placed a hand on his arm to slow him down as gaily striped tents and colorful banners waving in the breeze came into view. They were almost at the fair, and she had so many questions to ask. “Obviously, I am being impertinent. But you saved my life and I feel as though I ought to know more about you.”

  “What if I were to tell you that I’m actually a lord?”

  “As in Lord Ardaric Mariner? If you truly are one, then where is your seat? Is it a Welsh title perhaps? Or Scottish? You’re an unusual man, you must admit. Not from around here, or I would have heard of you. And you don’t appear to be the stuffy London sort.”

  However, there was an elegance about him that Winnie could not deny. “No, I shall call you Captain Mariner from now on even though you don’t have the look of a weather-worn sea captain either. Perhaps with proper clothes and some lessons in condescension and arrogance, you might pass for an English lord eventually. However, your nose does not stick in the air and you’re not insufferable… yet. So for now you shall be my captain.”

  He cast her a surprised but indulgent look, then his gaze strayed to the throne planted in the center of the meadow. “I think you’ve been noticed.”

  “Dear me! That’s Lady Darkwell! And she looks angry. I must go.” She ran the rest of the way to the fair, refusing to glance back at him until she’d reached the imperious queen and the other princesses standing impatiently beside her throne.

  Winnie tried to warn Lady Darkwell about the dogs, but the old harridan wouldn’t listen. “Enough excuses, Winnie. There are no wild dogs in the district. And where are your godmothers? Those Merridales never did have any sense of time. Always late to everything, and now they’re late to the fair. Well, no matter. We shall start without them.”

  “Oh, they’re not—”

  Lady Darkwell held up her hand. “Do not make any more excuses for your family.”

  “It isn’t an excuse. They’re… but more important, the dogs—”

  “La, how you do go on about those dogs! Carry a bag of bones home with you and toss it to them if they approach you again. Those creatures must have been hungry, that’s all.” She turned to the other May princesses, and at her command
they took their positions around the maypole.

  Winnie gave up for the moment and grabbed one of the bold red ribbons attached to the pole as the piper began to play his tune. She spun and dipped to the melodious lilt, but her thoughts were still on the harrowing incident and the stranger who’d saved her life. When she finally looked back to where he had been standing, he’d disappeared from view.

  Who was Captain Ardaric Mariner?

  Chapter Two

  Ardaric Sinclair, fourth Duke of Blantyre, remained on the edge of the meadow and watched the girl he would always think of as Princess Aurora scamper toward the crowd gathered beside the maypole. She called herself Winnie, so that’s how he would refer to her for now, but the prim name did not do her justice. She was far more interesting than any elegantly titled debutante he’d ever met at a London ball, and he’d met too many to count.

  Such was the curse of being a twenty-six-year-old bachelor duke, for every year’s crop of London debutantes clamored to throw themselves in his path, and every year he found them all to be vapid, mercenary, and not very clever.

  Winnie was different. She reminded him of a ginger-haired butterfly, gracefully flitting around the maypole in her gossamer costume. It wasn’t only that her body was so beautiful it stole his breath away. She had an incredibly lovely face as well, her eyes an enchanting mix of azure and sea green, and her smile as radiant as starlight.

  He shook his head and laughed at his folly, for he was a cynical duke who trusted no one and never thought of anyone in such ridiculously glowing terms.

  He liked that Winnie didn’t know who he was, but he was curious to learn more about her. Little Winnie, as the Merridale sisters had called her while imprudently chatting about her at the inn to anyone who’d listen, appeared to be around eighteen or nineteen years old. She certainly was not on her way to becoming a spinster.

  He wasn’t quite certain how those dotty ladies had tricked him into stopping by Kingsley Hall, but he was glad that he had. It wasn’t very far out of his way, and he hadn’t planned on staying long. It was a good thing he’d been in the neighborhood when those dogs attacked, for those beasts would have killed Winnie.

  He couldn’t tell what breed they were. They’d been shaved down to the skin, no doubt to make their sharp teeth appear more prominent. They weren’t wild dogs either. Someone had trained them and purposely set those vicious dogs on her.

  But who?

  And why?

  He wasn’t leaving Grasmere until he learned the answers.

  Several hours later, after warning everyone who would listen to her about those stray dogs, Winnie wandered through the crowd in search of her so-called pirate captain. Her duties as a May princess were completed and she was now free to enjoy the fair. Captain Mariner was taller than most and should have been easy to spot. He was also handsomer than most and certainly would have drawn the ladies to him like bees drawn to a flower. However, he wasn’t petal-soft. No, indeed. As kind as he had been to her, she sensed that he was not a man to cross.

  She looked around for a gathering of women, young or old, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. Not a single giggling girl sneaking peeks at a blond warrior-pirate that she could detect.

  Had he changed his mind and left the fairgrounds?

  “Lady Winnie, are you looking for someone?” Miss Allenby-Falk, the town gossip and one of the organizers of this year’s May Fair, called out to her from the food stall she was operating.

  “No, Miss Allenby-Falk.” She dared not tell the prim spinster about Captain Mariner for fear of the rumors that would instantly circulate. Her reputation as the town gossip was well earned and Winnie had no desire to be the topic of next week’s scandal sheet. “Just curious as to who is in attendance. We seem to have a larger crowd than usual.”

  “Indeed, we do. I believe it’s our best turnout ever.” She reached into one of the baskets in her stall and withdrew a meat pie. “Would you care for one?”

  Winnie purchased the meat pie and settled on a log beside a shady oak tree on the outskirts of the meadow to enjoy it. Having given up on ever seeing her gallant rescuer again, she stretched out her legs and was about to take a bite when the gentleman in question suddenly appeared. She smiled up at him. “There you are, Captain Mariner. I was beginning to think I’d never see you again.” She tried to sound casual, but her heart beat faster and butterflies began to flutter in her stomach so that she sounded breathless. “Are you enjoying the fair?”

  He didn’t appear to notice her discomposure, nor did he make any attempt to answer her question or engage in any conversation. Instead, he glanced toward the gaily striped tents.

  “I’m sure you’ve been to much finer ones,” she said when he turned back and settled his gaze on her. “Fairs, that is. What do you think of this one?”

  Once again, he did not bother to answer her question. She would have been quite put out were he not looking at her in a disconcertingly tender manner. Did he like her? She felt her cheeks heating and began to prattle to distract herself. “We’re just a little town, and the merchants are all local. No exotic fabrics or unusual wares to be found here.”

  He propped his booted foot on the log and leaned toward her. “I’ve seen much larger fairs in bustling towns, but there is a charm to these smaller ones that they cannot match. Are you enjoying it?”

  He spoke! More than two words to her.

  She nodded, her smile growing broader. “Yes, despite the glowers I seem to be receiving from Lady Darkwell every time she looks my way. I’ve already apologized for my tardiness. But she wishes to remain angry. You’d think I was late to a battle instead of a silly dance around a maypole.”

  He emitted a deep, resonant chuckle. Fortunately, she was sitting down, for her legs—indeed, her entire body—had just turned soft as melted butter under the gentle warmth of his gaze. She took a quick bite of her meat pie to distract herself from her wayward thoughts, but it was overly peppered and burned down her throat. She coughed and her eyes began to water.

  Miss Allenby-Falk never could make a decent pasty. Why ever would anyone put her in charge of the food stalls?

  Captain Mariner held out a cup as she continued to cough. “Here, drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  “What is it?” Her voice was more of a strained rasp, but she was too thirsty to care and her mouth and throat were burning, so she accepted it and began to drink before he responded. Oh, that feels nice. A honey concoction of some sort. It wasn’t as potent as mead, nor as treacly sweet as ratafia. “This is delicious. Where did you purchase it? I’ve never tasted anything like it before.”

  “You won’t find this drink anywhere in these parts. I always carry some along with me on my journeys to remind me of home.”

  “Thank you. Where do you call home?”

  He didn’t respond. Oh, he’d heard the question well enough. So why wouldn’t he answer? She’d never met anyone so politely rude before. Was it too personal a question? She silently forgave him, for there were many reasons one would be away from home. Perhaps he’d been banished. No, he was strong and protective, just the sort one would want to have around the house.

  Perhaps his sweetheart had married another.

  Not possible.

  A business trip? A secret mission for the Crown?

  Winnie hated uncomfortable silences, so she began to prattle again. “I ought to have known better than to recklessly bite into one of Miss Allenby-Falk’s pies. Have you tried them yet? Don’t if you value your life. But she’s so proud of them and no one has the heart to tell her they’re abysmal.” She took another sip, suddenly wondering how he’d managed to dig into his pouch, find two cups, and pour a drink for each of them in so short a time. Well, she had been distracted and perhaps coughing longer than she’d realized.

  Or he could be the magical prince of her dreams come to rescue her from evil.

  Of course, there wasn’t any evil in Grasmere, just a few snoopy neighbors and the arrogant Lord and
Lady Darkwell, who enjoyed their status as the leading family in the district.

  He took the cup from her hand once she’d drained its contents. “Perhaps you’d better try something else to eat. I’ll fetch us some more appealing fare, for I could do with a bite myself. What would you like?” He arched an eyebrow in amusement. “Or dare I trust your choices?”

  She tipped her chin upward in mock indignation. “I’m perfectly capable of making good choices. I was hungry, that’s all. And the queues by the other stalls were too long.” She shook her head and laughed lightly. “I suppose the absence of a queue ought to have warned me that Miss Allenby-Falk’s wares were particularly bad today.”

  He fished a few coins out of the breast pocket of his vest. “I’ll find us something safer than overly peppered pies.”

  He appeared to be a man of means and able to afford the additional expense of a meal for her. She also sensed that he would be quite put out if she offered to pay her share. Ladies were not taught to think of financial matters, but she’d been raised by her frugal godmothers and knew the value of a hard-earned shilling.

  She nodded in appreciation.

  This was turning out to be quite a nice day… if one overlooked the pack of wild dogs and their attempts to rip out her throat. She refused to think further about them. Instead, she allowed the chivalrous Captain Mariner to creep back into her thoughts.

  Who is he?

  She would ask Lady Darkwell about him later, if the old harridan ever stopped scowling at her. The woman had spent the last few hours with lips pursed and a frown on her face, as though she’d sat on a pin cushion. Well, Winnie wasn’t going to allow her or Lord Darkwell to ruin the lovely day.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the breeze upon her cheeks and listening to the nearby sounds of the fair. The piper was still tootling on his hornpipe, and other musicians had joined in to make merry music for the villagers as they continued to dance around the maypole. She caught the aroma of freshly baked bread and meats cooking in their juices, heard the carefree laughter of children playing games in the meadow and the deeper laughter of men and women wandering from tent to tent sampling wares.