The Gentle Wind's Caress (21 page)

‘And I you.’ Hamish shook Ethan’s hand and then glanced at the cart. ‘What’s all this?’

‘For a sick tenant.’ Ethan straightened defensively.

‘Really?’ A wry smile lifted Hamish’s lips.

Ethan gathered in the reins. ‘I’ll not be long and when I get back you can tell me all about London.’

A gasp came from Elizabeth. ‘Come now, Ethan. Hamish is far more important than a tenant. Send Dyers to deliver it and your good wishes.’

‘I think not, Mama.’ His fingers tightened on the reins.

Elizabeth flushed and she turned to Hamish. ‘
See
, I told you it was a bad business. He’s going to
her
!’

‘Mama!’

Hamish looked up at Ethan. ‘So that nonsense is still taking place?’

Ethan tried to keep his anger in check but his head throbbed with tension. ‘It has nothing whatsoever to do with either of you!’

Elizabeth stepped forward, grabbing his trousers. ‘You’ve been made a fool of and it has to stop.’ She twisted back to Hamish. ‘Tell him, Hamish, tell him that this will all end in trouble!’

Copper pranced sideways at the raised voices. Ethan steadied him, without taking his eyes off his mother. ‘Did you write to Hamish and ask him to come here? Did you ask him to talk sense into me?’

She stepped back, yet still defiant. ‘What if I did? Somebody has to make you see logic. Lord knows I’ve tried.’

‘You had no right!’ Ethan glared at his mother as Copper trotted sideways, snorting displeasure.

Hamish quickly stepped in between them. ‘Stop this, please.’ He glanced back at the groom and the cart’s driver before gripping Copper’s bridle. ‘Ethan, your mother has every right to be worried.’

‘Be quiet, Hamish,’ he spat, ‘you know nothing of it!’

‘But
I
do.’ Elizabeth folded her arms across her chest. ‘I won’t have my good name dragged through the mud because you can’t act like any decent man and hide your mistress.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve heard about the incident in the market last Saturday. It would be no surprise if there wasn’t a soul in all of Heptonstall and Hebden Bridge who hasn’t!’

Ethan paled. ‘What incident? What are you talking about?’

‘Your mistress was pelted with rotten fruit and chased out of the market. They shouted, ‘Harrington’s whore’.’ Suddenly Elizabeth’s fury died and her chin wobbled. Tears glistened. ‘I’m so ashamed of you.’ She fled into the house.

Ethan sat motionless, feeling like he’d just been punched in the stomach. His darling Isabelle pelted? It couldn’t be real. Her father would have mentioned it, surely, unless perhaps he’d been deliberately hiding it from him.

Hamish sighed. ‘Ethan. Go in and comfort your mother.’

‘I…I cannot. I must see Isabelle.’ He wiped his hand over his eyes. ‘Christ, I cannot believe it.’

‘Then let me go.’

‘You?’

‘Yes. I’ll ride over, the cart can follow, and I’ll tell her you’ll see her tomorrow. It’s for the best.’

‘Is it?’ Ethan scoffed. ‘I’m not a boy to ask for Mama’s permission.’

‘No, you’re not, but you are all she has here.’ Hamish looked him straight in the eyes. ‘She doesn’t understand the feelings you have for this woman. She’s frightened of losing you.’

He glowered at his friend, knowing he was losing the argument. ‘She must have said much in her letter.’

‘Yes, she did. You’ve become distant to her and she’s afraid. You need to repair your relationship with her. For the moment that is most important.’

As though an old man, Ethan slowly slid from the saddle. He looked at the house and then at Hamish. ‘Tell Isabelle I love her and will see her soon. Tomorrow.’

Hamish nodded and swiftly mounted Copper. He indicated to the driver of the cart and then spurred Copper into a trot.

***

Isabelle sat in a chair in the front garden and blew her nose. The tiredness had left, but not the cough or running nose. Hughie, bless him, had tucked a rug around her knees and Bertie had brought her knitting, but it lay untouched on her lap. The boys, satisfied she’d come to no harm, had left to do their chores while their father cooked the midday meal.

She gazed at the garden, her garden, now slowing down in readiness for winter. The sun, still warm, allowed the roses to continue to bloom, albeit sparingly. One of her few pleasures was tending to the garden. It saddened her that shortly the frosts would come, followed by the winter snow and her garden would be no more until next spring.

Sighing, she nestled more comfortably in the chair. With accustomed ease, her thoughts turned to Ethan. Would he visit her today? She understood he’d called everyday, but her father refused to let the boys see their landlord visit her bedroom. Aaron’s last stand at respectability annoyed her. Despite his dubious past, he was shocked by her behaviour. The hypocrite.

Well, she’d show him. She was improving every hour. Hence her insistence that she come and sit outside in the fresh air. She tilted her face to the sun, enjoying its warmth on her skin. Soon, she would be completely recovered, and nothing would stop her, come Sunday, to walk to the woods and her father knew it. Sunday and Ethan. She smiled at the thought. Then she frowned. Sunday would be the 1
^st
of October.

Isabelle sighed. She had married in October last year. ‘A wife of one year,’ she whispered, ‘and what a year it’s been.’

The sound of traffic on the lane diverted her attention. A lone rider and behind it a cart. Her stomach flipped. Straining to see over the garden wall, she ached for Ethan to come. However, even at this distance she knew it wasn’t him. He didn’t sit the saddle in that way. Yet, she was sure the horse was Copper. In amazement she watched them turn in through the gateway. Visitors? She immediately put her hand to her hair and adjusted the white lace collar of her navy wool dress.

The rider dismounted and she noticed his dark brown trousers hugged his thighs before tapering into long leather boots. He wore his dun coloured jacket loosely over a cream shirt. His wide-brimmed hat looked odd, but vaguely familiar. He looked like no Yorkshire man. He muttered something to the cart driver and then walked along the path to her.

Isabelle racked her brains to think if she knew the tall man. Why did he ride Copper? Did grooms wear such outlandish hats? He walked with a comfortable stride, confident in who he was. He was no groom, she was certain. Then it came to her. Ethan’s friend, MacGregor or something.

A few feet from her, he took off his hat and bowed, displaying a thick crop of dark red hair with gold highlights. ‘Good day, Mrs Farrell.’

She blinked. His Scottish accent threw her into disarray. She’d forgotten all about him. ‘Good…Good day, Mr?’

‘Hamish MacGregor. You may not remember me.’ He didn’t smile and his gaze swept over her, assessing her every feature.

Isabelle stiffened. ‘Is there something I can help you with, Mr MacGregor?’

‘My good friend, Ethan Harrington, cares to know if you are well?’ He waved his arm back towards the cart. ‘I come bearing his gifts…to ease your recovery.’

She stared at him as though he’d grown a tail. ‘Ethan sent you?’ A pain lanced her heart. Ethan wasn’t coming.

‘Indeed. He sends his apologies for not calling in person but pressing business detains him.’

‘Oh.’ Dumbfounded, she didn’t know what else to say. She felt cheated and somehow robbed of dignity and this man had done it. His condescending stare and upright stance conveyed exactly what he thought of her and it filled her with a burning anger, an anger that had built, albeit unknowingly since the market confrontation.

‘Shall I have the cart unloaded at the back of the house?’ MacGregor’s tone was akin to disdainful mocking.

Her face grew hot with embarrassment. He knew!
Was there not a soul who didn’t by now?
His whole manner revealed his awareness of what she meant to Ethan and he hated her for it.

She jerked to her feet, letting the knitting and blanket fall to the grass. ‘No, thank you. Please inform Mr Harrington that I appreciate his tokens of assistance, but I am not in need.’

MacGregor’s piercing blue eyes widened. ‘You are refusing it? All of it?’

‘Does that surprise you, Mr MacGregor?’ She sneered. ‘You think I am without morals or standards?’

‘I…I do not know you, Mrs Farrell, to make such judgement.’

‘Oh, come now!’ She laughed harshly. ‘You had decided on my character before you arrived.’

He had the grace to flush nearly as scarlet as his hair. ‘That is true. I do know about your relationship with Ethan.’

‘At least you are honest.’ She coughed and slumped back into the chair, her strength gone. The intense beautiful love she and Ethan shared was now soiled by everyone’s knowledge of it. How had it happened? How had the purity of their feelings been destroyed, sullied?

Unease shadowed his features. ‘Mrs Farrell-’

‘My name is Isabelle.’ She looked away. ‘I have no marriage, my title is a falsehood.’

Unbelievably, he squatted down on his haunches beside her knee. ‘I mean you no disrespect coming here today.’

She stared into his sharp blue eyes; eyes that missed nothing. ‘No?’

He shook his head. ‘No. My one thought was for Ethan and his family. To protect them.’

‘From me?’ She snorted. ‘How can I possibly harm them? I want naught from them, except Ethan’s love.’

‘You have that, but are you content to be just his mistress? To bear his illegitimate children? To be scorned in public?’

‘Of course not!’ She rose and walked a few feet away from him. Her hands shook for she had already sampled public scorn and knew that she could stomach no more of it. ‘But…but as soon as we both are granted divorces then we’ll be free. Ethan says we can go to Australia to his sister.’

MacGregor slowly straightened. ‘And what if one of you isn’t given a divorce?’

‘We’ll fight it until we do.’ Isabelle raised her chin. ‘Rest assured, Mr MacGregor, I am not some alley slut that you can toss a bag of coins to and hope I’ll disappear.’

‘How many bags will it take?’

The urge to slap his face was barely contained. She raised her eyebrows. ‘My, my, you are skilled at these types of arrangements aren’t you? Do you buy all your women?’

The blue of his eyes honed to ice.

Isabelle sighed, drained by the thrust and jab argument. ‘Just because I have very little doesn’t mean I want-’

‘Ah, but you do have something.’ He folded his arms and looked down at his boots, before pinning her with a glare. ‘You have Ethan’s love and he’s never given that to anyone before. Therefore, the power is all yours. He’s yours to do with as you please.’

‘And you believe I will misuse my so-called power.’

‘Many women do.’

‘I am not as other women.’

He nodded. ‘I am learning to understand that.’ He looked away into the distance. ‘This is not easy on either side. I realise this.’ His eyes softened. ‘I wish you and Ethan had met years ago and saved everyone this misery.’

She studied him for a moment. He was a tall, powerfully built man. Creases spread from the corners of his eyes and she had the inkling that he smiled a lot. Searching her memory, she recalled Ethan speaking of this Scot, who’d sailed to Australia and fashioned a life in the frontier. Suddenly, she wished they were friends. It would be pleasant to just sit and talk with this man and learn about his and Ethan’s friendship. Sadness filled her. ‘I’m sorry that you and I didn’t meet under better circumstances, Mr MacGregor.’

He stared at her for a long moment. ‘So am I.’ A self-depreciating chuckle escaped him. ‘I thought Ethan was mad to love you.’

‘And now?’

‘And now…’ His face became unreadable, closed from expression and emotion. ‘And now I think he is equally blessed and cursed.’

***

Hamish gave his hat to the butler, and ran his fingers through his hair, steeling himself to meet Ethan. What would he say? His dispute with Ethan over giving Isabelle up rang hollow in his head, tasted nasty on his tongue. Isabelle Farrell had managed, without even trying or being aware of it, to find an unguarded place in his heart. All it had taken was one look from those pale blue eyes of hers and he had struggled to breathe ever since. He remembered their first meeting months ago, and if he was honest he would agree that he’d felt a stirring of attraction then, and immediately squashed it. There were rules in friendship and one of them was to not ogle your best friend’s woman.

Today he had expected to feel attraction, but he certainly hadn’t been prepared for the hit in the gut that he experienced the moment he saw her sitting alone in the garden. No wonder Ethan lived and breathed the woman, she was something exceptional, unique. Hamish shook his head at his own stupidity. He’d handled the situation poorly and, no doubt, left with her hating him. Somehow, her dislike caused him more distress than the fact he lusted after his friend’s woman.
Lord, what have I done?

The drawing room door was wrenched open and Ethan stood there, tension lining his face. ‘Well? Did you see her? How was she? Why are you standing out here in the hall?’