The Rake to Reveal Her

‘Not having seen the building in years, I’ve no idea what would be a suitable rent,’ he countered.

‘I have seen it—at least from the outside—and had a figure in mind,’ she said, naming one that sounded quite generous to him.

‘You are certainly...well organised,’ he observed, substituting a more flattering adjective for the one that had initially come to mind.

‘Managing, you mean,’ she acknowledged with a smile. ‘You’re quite right. You see, I’ve overseen my father’s household since I was the merest child. Then, on the Peninsula—well, you were there, you know how it is. Having to anticipate movements, preparing for every contingency! Water, or none. Provisions, or none. Shelter, or none. Having your gear and supplies ready to move at a moment’s notice, should battle threaten or the army’s plans change. Which,’ she added with a chuckle, ‘they always did. Which regiment were you in, by the way?’

Before he could answer, she waved her hand in a silencing gesture. ‘There I go, prying again, after just assuring you I would not. Please excuse me.’

‘It’s not prying to ask about the experiences of a fellow campaigner,’ he replied, surprised to discover he meant it. ‘I was with the Sixteenth Light Dragoons.’

‘Did you charge with the Union Brigade against D’Erlon’s Corps at Waterloo? A magnificent effort, I was told.’

Dom shrugged, having never sorted out his feelings about the event that had so drastically altered his life. ‘When the trumpet sounds, one goes.’

‘Duty, in spite of fear or likelihood of success, Papa always said,’ she murmured, grief veiling her face again.

‘Duty,’ he agreed, struggling himself with a familiar mixture of pride, sadness and bitter regret for what he had lost that day.

After a silent moment, both of them doubtless recalling what duty had cost them, Dom shook himself free of the memories. ‘When do you want to inspect the property?’

‘Now, if possible.’

‘I appreciate that you don’t mind the damp, but the weather is rather inclement. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to wait until tomorrow?’

‘Oh, no! I’m impatient to begin. Besides, the worst of the rain is over now. But truly, you needn’t bother yourself to accompany me.’

‘It won’t be a bother. If I’m to reside here, I must know what’s going on with the property. Did you come on horseback?’

‘Yes, but as I recall, the building isn’t too far from the manor. We could walk.’

Was she recalling his admission that he no longer possessed a horse he could ride? he wondered. ‘If you’ll wait until I get my coat, I’ll escort you. By the way, in spite of what you saw me wearing yesterday, I do own a coat respectable enough that you needn’t fear being seen with me.’

To his puzzlement, she gave a peal of laughter, quickly stifled.

‘What?’

She shook with silent mirth, her eyes merry. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Come, you must tell me. Have pity on a man whose face now frightens children.’

That sobered her. ‘You can’t be serious! Don’t you ever look in a glass? You must know you are quite handsome.’

It being obvious by now that Miss Branwell was incapable of toadying or flattery, he knew she spoke the truth as she saw it. His spirits, consigned to the lowest of dungeons after yesterday’s ignominious ride, climbed several storeys at this verbal confirmation that the unusual girl who attracted him so strongly found him attractive, too.

As he gazed at her, their physical connection, simmering just below the level of consciousness, intensified again. Struggling to resist its pull, he said, ‘Now, tell me what was so amusing.’

She remained silent for a long moment, her eyes locked on his. Then gasped and shook her head, as if breaking a spell.

That, he could understand. He felt a bit enchanted himself.

‘What was amusing,’ she repeated, as if trying to recover her place in the conversation. ‘Well, you see, reflecting upon your appearance after parting from you yesterday, I concluded you must be a poor, unemployed ex-soldier. I’d decided to make up for my rudeness by hiring you to perform some tasks at Thornfield Place.’ Another chuckle escaped. ‘How ridiculous! Thinking I was doing a favour, offering odd jobs to a man who owns half the county!’

‘Not so ridiculous, given how disreputable I looked,’ he said, amused, but also touched by the compassion she’d felt for a chance-met stranger—and a surly one at that.

No wonder she had a heart for homeless orphans.

‘You’ll wait while I get my coat?’

‘I really shouldn’t task you with this...but if you are truly sure it wouldn’t be an imposition, and I’m not keeping you from other matters?’

‘It won’t be, and you aren’t.’ He refrained from mentioning he had nothing on his calendar—now or any subsequent day. ‘I consider it an opportunity to become better acquainted with my new neighbour.’

Which, though perfectly true, he thought as he left the room, was certainly singular, given his original intention not to mingle with any of them.

Chapter Four (#ulink_657c6c1a-edbc-52fe-98dd-08c65c6f9f02)

Reviewing their conversation as he climbed the stairs, Dom marvelled at himself. Was the solitude he’d sought wearing on him already, that he felt such a lift at the prospect of inspecting some musty old building?

But thinking about London, or Leicestershire, or even Elizabeth, still brought an automatic shudder of distaste. Perhaps what he really sought was not so much solitude, but a world completely different from the society he’d once enjoyed and the company of those who’d known him there.

Miss Theodora Branwell was certainly different. Though his little brown wren had been more attractive today in a green gown that accentuated her graceful figure, made her skin glow and emphasised her lovely dark eyes, were the stunningly beautiful Lady Elizabeth to have entered the room, most men wouldn’t have given Miss Branwell another glance.

Compared to Elizabeth, who’d been trained since her youth in the art of conversation designed to make her companion feel himself the most fascinating man in the room, Miss Branwell, with her frankness and total lack of subtlety, would be considered unpleasantly plain-spoken and offensively inquisitive.

And yet, though he’d always appreciated Elizabeth’s beauty and avidly anticipated the pleasures of the wedding bed, he didn’t remember ever having the sort of immediate, visceral reaction he’d felt for Miss Branwell. Perhaps that response was intensified, coming as it did after Miss Wentworth’s distaste and representing as it did the first time since his injuries that he’d felt a sense of his own masculine appeal. The first evidence as well that a woman who attracted him could find him desirable for who and what he was now, rather than as the damaged remains of the man he used to be.

But enough analysing. Like today’s rain, Miss Branwell had blown a freshness into his life, lifting his spirits and imbuing him, for this moment, with a sense of lightness and anticipation he hadn’t felt in months. He’d accept it as a gift from Heaven.

Recalling that the walk to the stone building was rather far, he took a swig of the laudanum-laced brandy at his bedside. He didn’t want to end up so cross-eyed with pain by the time they arrived that he was incapable of accurately assessing the building. Or appreciating the company of the lady he was escorting.

Miss Branwell awaited him in the entry as he descended the stairs. ‘I took the liberty of asking your butler if there was a pony trap we might use. He’s having one sent up.’

‘Afraid I might collapse on you?’ he tossed back. And regretted the hasty words, as his mind jumped to other ways he might cover her that had his body immediately hardening in approval.

‘...nursed enough soldiers to know,’ she was saying by the time he got his thoughts back under control. ‘You have the look of a soldier still recovering from his injuries. Did you suffer a lingering fever?’

‘For months,’ he confirmed, no longer surprised at how easy he found it to speak frankly to her. ‘I wasn’t well enough to leave Belgium until quite recently.’

She gave him a quick inspection that his body hoped was more than an assessment of his level of recovery. ‘You’re still rather thin. In my judgement, you should have more careful tending—but that’s for you to decide, so I shall not mention it again. However—’ She stopped herself with a sigh. ‘No, excuse me, I shall say nothing.’

Dom shook his head with a chuckle as they walked out to the vehicle a groom had pulled up outside the entry. ‘You shall have to tell me, you know.’

She looked back at him, smiling faintly as she shook her head. Remembering her rebuke of the previous day, he offered her a steadying hand as she climbed into the vehicle, savouring more than he should the touch of her gloved fingers.

She didn’t turn to see if he had trouble climbing up himself. And though, army veteran that she was, she probably could drive the trap better than he, she made space for him on the bench seat and waited for him to take the reins with nary a solicitous look nor a concerned enquiry about whether he felt well enough to handle them. That, after just pronouncing her nurse’s opinion that he was not fully recovered.

A tiny glow of satisfaction lit within the gloomy depths of his battered self-esteem. She assumed he was adjusting to his handicap, continuing with his life. Expected he would eventually master it.