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Authors: Janet Woods

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BOOK: Straw in the Wind
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He was quite bewildered by her reasoning. ‘I can't lay any claim to that.'

‘There you are then.' Her smile had a trace of mockery to it. ‘I admit though, you
do
have pretty eyes, like those of a hawk.'

Laughter filled him, even though the comparison pleased him. ‘And your mind is as sharp as your wit.'

She heaved a sigh. ‘Let's stick to the business at hand, Mr Chapman. You are here because you're wet and cold, not to exchange compliments or engage in a flirtation that will come to nothing. This time, did
you
hear what I said to you?'

‘About Mr Leighton's lack of sight? Yes, and thank you for warning me.'

‘I'm only telling you so you don't ask him to look at things, and make a fool of yourself.'

He wanted to laugh; the whole conversation was ridiculous. ‘I daresay Mr Leighton is used to people doing that, and doesn't take offence.'

‘Oh, he's a very kind man and he wouldn't take offence. But you might feel a bit silly if you didn't know, because he doesn't look as though he's blind, you see.'

‘So you were thinking of my feelings being affected, not Mr Leighton's. That's kind of you. I apologize if I made you blush.'

‘I didn't blush, you must have imagined it.'

He chuckled. ‘I've never met a woman who didn't appreciate a compliment before.'

‘Then this will be a new experience for you, Mr Chapman, and you might learn something from it. Kindly remember that you're a guest in Mr Leighton's home, and you're dripping water on his stair carpet.'

He couldn't help it. He pressed both of his hands against his heart and said, ‘I'm totally contrite.'

‘You don't look in the least bit contrite, let alone totally. Come . . .' She turned and sped off, leaving him staring after her, slightly disconcerted. She had won this round, he realized.

‘Yes, your majesty,' he murmured, and could have sworn that a breathless giggle floated back to him. Adam trotted after her like a well-trained dog called to a whistle, thinking, this was a woman worth pursuing.

He was introduced to the manservant, Oscar, who listened to her instructions with a faint grin.

‘This is Mr Chapman. He's to be made comfortable while his own clothing is being dried. Mr Leighton said he may need to stay the night, so I'll make the second-best guest room ready and light a fire in there. Call me when he's ready.'

‘Yes, Miss.'

‘I'm sorry to be so much trouble—'

‘It's no trouble. It's what I'm paid to do.'

Before too long Adam found himself expertly processed and warmly clad in a morning suit that was slightly larger than the one he usually wore. But Adam could still feel the cold gnawing at his core, and now and again he was wracked with shivers.

He followed Sara down to a small sitting room, where a fire burned cheerfully in the grate.

His host turned towards the door when they entered, and he got to his feet and held out a hand. ‘Welcome to my home, Mr Chapman. I don't often entertain visitors here, even unexpected ones.' The man's handshake was firm.

‘Thank you for your hospitality; I'm grateful. Please sit down, sir. Your housekeeper has informed me of your disability and I have no wish to put you out.'

‘I'm not in the least put-out. In fact, I've been looking forward to meeting you.'

‘Me, sir? You've heard of me?'

‘I practise law, Mr Chapman. Leighton & Jones. Of course I've heard of you. Most of the lawyers in London have. Word of mouth is a fine thing, sir. Perhaps you'd care to pour us both a brandy.'

‘Shall I do it?' Sara said.

‘Are you still here, Miss Finn? You must have realized by now that Mr Chapman is a decent young man who wishes me no harm. You don't have to act as my guard dog. If there's anything more you wish to know about him, just ask him before you leave.'

‘Well,' Adam asked her with a grin. ‘Is there?'

Her brown eyes mirrored her chagrin and Adam felt guilty when she murmured, ‘You're of no interest to me whatsoever.' She left, her face burning with embarrassment.

Leighton sighed. ‘That was cruel of me.'

‘And me. The young woman is more sensitive than she appears. I will apologize to her.'

‘Oh, she will bounce back with a vengeance, I daresay, since she always does.'

Adam put out a feeler. ‘Do you know anything about her past?'

‘The same as you do, I imagine, Mr Chapman. Sara Finn is a good, honest and hard-working young woman. That's all I need to know about her.'

Pouring them a drink, Adam said. ‘Where do you want this brandy?'

‘In my hand, please. I understand we have a mutual acquaintance in Edgar Wyvern.'

Adam chuckled. ‘No wonder you've heard of me if that's the case. Edgar is much more than an acquaintance, though. He's very generous with his patronage, and will become my stepfather at the end of January.'

‘Ah . . . I wondered if matrimony was in the offing. I met your mother when she was hosting a dinner for Edgar. She's a charming and gracious lady.'

‘Yes, she is.'

‘Since I lost my sight I've developed a good memory, along with acute hearing and touch. In fact, my loss of sight, which you considered a disability, has allowed me to discover, and more importantly, bring my other abilities to the forefront.'

‘My pardon if I offended you.'

‘You didn't. What I want you to know is that I can still reason, and can smell an evasion from a mile away.' Then came the question Adam was dreading. ‘You were not passing by, since the road outside my gate leads nowhere. And it seems that you had no intention of visiting me. But you were loitering outside my house for a reason. Now you're enquiring about my housekeeper, which has intrigued me. I can only come to the conclusion you were spying on her. Why?'

Adam quickly decided on the truth. ‘I had no intention of intruding. I was hoping to get a glimpse of Miss Finn before I returned home, for identification purposes. I was about to turn back when the storm came on.'

His host raised an eyebrow. ‘Identification?'

‘To see if she resembles those seeking to prove kinship to her. My enquiries are on behalf of a man who thinks Miss Finn may be his daughter. I was not about to approach her at this stage though, since he's abroad for several more months and I don't like giving anyone false hope.'

‘May I ask who this man is?'

‘That I won't reveal, since it's a confidential matter.'

‘Of course you can't . . . and now you've seen my housekeeper do you think she's the young woman you're looking for?'

Hating himself for doing it, but knowing that curiosity often overcame a man's natural instinct for discretion, Adam employed a tiny amount of subterfuge. ‘I've tracked Serafina over four counties. She certainly could be the girl I'm looking for, but she bears very little resemblance to the family concerned.'

Leighton's alert posture told Adam that his host was familiar with the name in connection with his housekeeper. ‘Serafina?'

‘That's a name we call her by. Her file name, if you like.'

‘Because . . .?'

Adam gave a faint smile. Leighton played things close to his chest. This was a man after his own heart, but he dealt with facts and it wouldn't be wise to tell him that it was a name the wind on the heath had once blown into Marianne Thornton's pretty ear. ‘We believe she was named after an aunt with that name, who ran an orphanage on the outskirts of Dorchester. Constance Serafina Jarvis her name was.'

‘My housekeeper does admit to having a name such as Serafina, but she can't quite remember some things from her past, since she's been moved from pillar to post. She has an ambition . . . to reach old age with enough money to own a house with two bedrooms, so she can board a respectable lodger to help her make ends meet.'

He imagined a white-haired Serafina in a little cottage like Ham's mother had. Adam's heart went out to the girl for having such a modest dream. Had she been allowed to remain within her family Serafina's expectations and desires would surely have been much more advanced.

‘A laudable plan.'

‘That's if she doesn't marry and have children in the meantime, or so she tells me. I think she has a need to feel secure, which accounts for the forward planning.'

‘We all do, and having a background, however humble, gives us a sense of belonging. I may be able to provide her with that. Do you have any children, Mr Leighton?'

‘I suggest that we use first names, Adam. No children unfortunately, my wife . . .
died
. It was an accident and I had the reins.'

‘Oh, I'm so sorry, that must have been hard to live with.' Adam's head spun and he remembered little Annie at the cottage, with her flushed face and faint pink rash. He dismissed it. She'd had a childhood disease, one he'd probably suffered in childhood himself, therefore giving him immunity. Another fit of the shivers attacked him and his glass chattered against his teeth.

‘Are you feeling unwell, Adam?'

‘I was chilled to the bone and I'm shivering now and again.'

‘It sounds as though you're coming down with a fever.'

‘It's probably just the cold. I should be all right by morning, though I'm enjoying your hospitality so much that I might fake an illness just to stay here longer.'

Leighton laughed. ‘You'd be quite welcome.'

As it was, Adam didn't have to fake an illness. He woke the next morning with a sore throat, a soaring fever and a rash. He staggered to a chair, rang the bell and was rewarded by the patter of feet, followed by a knock at the door. It was Serafina's voice – a voice as clear as a crystal bell. ‘Mr Chapman?'

‘Don't come in,' he said.

Contrarily, she did the opposite. The door opened and she advanced upon him, stopping a few paces away to accuse him, ‘Your voice is croaking; are you feeling ill?'

He was at a disadvantage, sitting there in his host's spare robe with his bare feet sticking out of the bottom. ‘Go away, Miss Finn. I think I'm infectious since I have a sore throat and a rash.'

She advanced the rest of the way and gazed down at him, concern in her eyes. ‘After living in the workhouse I've been exposed to every infection going. Show me your rash.'

He showed her his neck, where the rash was a blotchy red tide spreading up to his face.

‘Is it anywhere else?'

‘On my stomach,' and he clutched his robe tightly against it. ‘I'm not going to allow you to inspect it. Do you know what the cause is?'

‘Ah, I see that I have you at a disadvantage now, Mr Chapman.' She laid the back of her hand lightly against his brow. It was a well-worked hand, but cool and soothing . . . almost motherly. ‘Yes, I know what ails you.'

‘Tell me then. Am I infectious?'

‘I'm afraid so. But we'll wait for the doctor. He's a man, and won't approve of me diagnosing your illness before he does.'

He wanted to smile at the thought that this chit of a girl would take advantage of his infliction to criticize the learned doctor. ‘You're infuriating, Miss Finn. Perhaps you could offer me a prognosis instead.'

Her head slanted to one side and she smiled. ‘If you stay in bed and rest, drink plenty of fluids, behave yourself, remain calm and do as you're told, you should be ready to return home in about a week's time.'

Finch Leighton sent Oscar to London to inform Adam's family that the man of the family was suffering from German measles and would be his guest for as long as it took him to recover.

Oscar returned the next day, accompanied by Adam's sister.

‘Oscar said you wouldn't mind if I came down to look after my brother. I do hope that's true and you'll forgive the intrusion,' she said. ‘My mother will worry less if I'm here to look after him, and Mr Wyvern tells me you're a gentleman of good reputation. Are you? I will try and stay out of your way.'

Her voice was calm and unhurried, like moonlight on water. The hand Finch took in his was warm, the skin like silk. She smelled of honeysuckle.

Finch had never believed in love at first sight. When he'd fallen in love with Diana it had been her looks that had gradually attracted him, but that hadn't been enough after a while and her faults had come to the fore.

It struck him as ironic that he'd had to wait until he was blind to discover that love could be instinctive, and it was a perfectly feasible concept to be attracted to a woman sight unseen, even for one such as him.

He sensed in Celia Chapman a rare perfection that he was totally at one with. At the same time he felt like weeping. A woman like her could have no interest in a man such as himself . . . so flawed.

Yet he found he could be no less than gallant and manly in his reaction to her presence. ‘I'm glad you're here, Miss Chapman; your brother talked so much about you last night that I feel as though I already know you. As for staying out of my way, I'll never forgive you if you deliberately deprive me of your company. I will, however, forgive any presumption or trespass you wished to make,' he said, and when he kissed the soft feminine hand he held, she drew in a sharp intake of breath.

As he was readying himself for bed later that evening he asked Oscar, ‘What do you make of Miss Celia Chapman?'

‘Oh, very nice, sir. She's a sensible, well-mannered young woman. Her bearing is graceful, her manner polite, if a little diffident. Her shyness is appealing, I thought. She's not the type of woman who would push herself forward to be noticed in a crowd.'

‘That was the impression I formed, too.'

‘Oh, by the way, sir. I found the key you lost the last time you were here. It was in the drawer of the bedside cabinet. I can't imagine how we missed it.'

‘Odd . . . I could have sworn I'd lost it in the London house. Are you sure it's my key and not the housekeeper's?' He hoped it wasn't Sara's. She would have to learn to curb her curiosity and her instinct to clean everything in sight, and he'd specifically told her to leave Diana's room as it was.

BOOK: Straw in the Wind
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