What a Lady Demands (12 page)

Emmy looked over, her laughter fading. Her cheeks reddened. “He don’t know I came up here.”

“Emmy.” Cecelia did her best to control her tone, a difficult prospect when her heart had leapt into her throat. Good Lord, the last thing she needed was another accusation of being responsible for a child’s disappearance. “That is not what you told me.”

“I said I came up here with him. I didn’t say he knew I came.”

Drat, drat, and drat. Cecelia took a breath before replying. “I think we’d best see you home, then, before your mama misses you.”

“I was hoping I’d get a ride on your pony.”

“My pony? I don’t have a pony,” Cecelia said.

“No, but he does.” She pointed to Jeremy. “That’s what me dad came up here for. His lordship bought you a pony, and Regan asked Dad to come up to put shoes on it.”

Cecelia jumped to her feet. “With any luck, your papa isn’t finished the job yet, and he can take you home before anyone gets to worrying.”

“I want to see my pony,” Jeremy said.

“I think it might be more important to make certain Emmy gets home,” Cecelia said. “After that, we can take a look at your pony.” And why hadn’t Lind thought to mention such a purchase?

She took the girl by the hand, and grasped Jeremy with the other. He came along without complaint since he wasn’t being singled out for such treatment. His palm pressed against hers, and she noted the ever-present tremor. He transferred it to her along with the trust that she’d keep him in balance. She must not let him fall.

But when they arrived in the stable yard, all was quiet. The horses stood in their stalls chomping hay. In one box at the end, a small gray with a white blaze down its nose regarded them with enormous liquid eyes. If it had recently acquired new shoes, the job was now complete.

“It looks like your papa’s finished his job and gone home,” she said to Emmy. “We’ll have to walk.”

“That’s all right.” The girl’s face brightened. “I know a shortcut. It’s not so far.”

Cecelia hesitated before agreeing. She was familiar enough with the lay of the land to understand what Emmy meant by a shortcut—the path through the copse that led to the pond. Even if Lind didn’t have his reasons for avoiding that spot, he couldn’t have ridden that way. Not when he’d allowed it to become clogged with underbrush and low-hanging branches.

But she also knew Jeremy’s legs would never carry him so far if they took the long way around. And he’d have to return to the manor under his own power, as well. She could leave him behind, of course, but a glance at his face told her he’d not stand for that. The boy was happy, blast it all, a state he rarely knew. Governess or no, she didn’t have the heart to spoil that for him, and the deuce take Lind’s dictates.

“All right, then, Emmy. Show me your shortcut.”

At the top of the rise, Lind reined in Judas and allowed the horse a moment to breathe. Their gallop had been invigorating, but he also knew better than to overdo it, both for his mount’s sake and his own. As he’d hoped, the air and exercise did him good, but no horse had the stamina required for Lind to outrun his demons. Or thoughts of Miss Sanford, for that matter. They might well have been one and the same.

From the hilltop, his lands spread before him. In the distance, his manor stood on another crest, its terraces broadening out to fields and parkland. To the left, a stand of oaks surrounded the pond. Suppressing a shudder, he moved his gaze quickly past to alight on his tenants’ dwellings. A couple of abandoned cottages stood apart, but most of them huddled in a cluster.

The Powells’ stood in its midst. From the outbuilding that housed the forge, a plume of smoke wafted lazily from a redbrick chimney. The blacksmith must be back, which meant the boy’s pony had been delivered and shod, just as he’d asked. An indulgence, perhaps, but Miss Sanford had a point where it came to starting the boy’s practical education early. After all, if he was clumsy on his feet, how clouded might his mind be? None of the other governesses had made any headway with him, and how difficult was it to teach a child something as simple as letters?

Your fault.

That voice. It sounded much like his memory of his wife and caused a shiver to creep down his spine. He pushed it away, but its far-off echo continued to taunt him. He stared at the sky for a moment, hoping to erase the image that had just entered his brain. Indelible, and if he was going to sleep at all tonight, he’d need an entire bottle of brandy to help him along.

Only alcohol in sufficient quantities was enough to blur the sight of Lydia, lying flat on her belly on the frozen pond, both arms in icy water as she reached…reached…reached, but it wasn’t enough. The woman in his mind inched forward, plunging her arms to the shoulder. Great white clouds emerged from her nose to mingle in the frigid air. Icy droplets clung to the fringe of hair just visible beneath her bonnet.

Another inch. A crack. Too late, he called a warning. The ice beneath her gave way, and she disappeared with a splash…

Cursing, he spurred Judas down the slope, but he could not outrun the torturous conjuring of his imagination. He’d stood by powerless, his goddamned leg refusing to support his weight. The feeling of utter uselessness had only increased once the doctor came. The boy would be fortunate to come out of his faint. His mother only sickened from her chill to slip away from him days later.

“Argghhh!” The wind tore his wordless cry from his lungs, but the echo of the anguish behind it pounded in his ears, his pulse, his entire being.

Judas galloped fast for a hedge. Too late to turn. Muscles throbbing a protest, Lind gritted his teeth, leaned forward, and took the jump. On the other side, a spear of pain pierced his thigh. He reined his horse and rubbed, but the stabbing only increased.

Damn, damn, and damn. He’d have to take the rest of the ride home at a walk. But whatever he suffered, it was nothing to what he’d put Lydia through. And perhaps he deserved every last jab as a reminder.

He skirted the edge of the Powells’ fields, making for the path that wound its sinuous way up the terraces to his house, where a bottle and oblivion of a sort awaited. More than awaited, it called to him like a damned siren.

If he were to tempt fate and take the path that led past the pond, he’d arrive all the faster. But no, Judas would never make it through. He’d deliberately allowed that area to become choked with weeds, and demanded the deadfall from the trees remain where it fell. The sooner nature reclaimed that path, the better. He’d not take it again.

A shout on the wind made him look up. Three figures appeared from the trees at the far end of the field, at the very spot where the path emerged, if his recollection was correct. A female led two children by the hand. A very familiar-looking female, making hard for Powells’. That had to be the young girl with them, but for the life of him Lind couldn’t fathom how she’d managed to make her way up to the manor so that Cecelia would have to bring her home.

Damn Miss Sanford, could she not remember a simple order? And why in God’s name was she taking the boy on such a long walk? With his graceless lack of coordination, she’d exhaust him before they made it back home. And they would have to go back the way they came.

With his leg plaguing him, he could not afford to take the boy up in the saddle, and he most definitely could not play the gentleman and offer his mount to Miss Sanford. Not that she deserved a single bit of consideration now that she’d countermanded his orders. No, if he was going to show her anything it would be her walking papers.

Still, he sat in the saddle and watched them, reins slack. Judas dipped his head and tore at the grass growing at the edge of the path, but Lind ignored the beast. His gaze fixed on Miss Sanford, the smile evident on her face, even from this distance and despite the shade cast by her bonnet.

The trio approached the house, and Mrs. Powell emerged. With a grin, Cecelia sent the little girl on her way, before bending down to say something to Jeremy. Then they turned to retrace their steps.

Lind narrowed his eyes. He took up the reins once more and nudged Judas into an amble, keeping enough distance from Cecelia that she wouldn’t note her shadow.

At the same time, he questioned his wisdom. He ought to turn around and beat her home. He ought to confront her for disobeying his precise orders. He ought to toss her out on her shapely little arse. But damn it all, she was good at what she did, proper training or no. And she could keep the boy out of his hair. And if he did send her packing, he’d have to start all over again with a new governess.

The idea settled onto his shoulders like an insupportable weight. If he pretended to know nothing of her adventure today, he might legitimately keep her on. None of which had anything to do with his damnable attraction to her.

In fact, there was another point in favor of getting rid of her. If she ended up in his bed, that would turn into a complication he did not need. And she seemed awfully determined to find her way into his bed. At the same time, he was having a devil of a time resisting her charms.

I would never turn you away,
indeed.

The last thing he needed was another female in his life after he’d bungled things so badly with the first one. The pain was simply not worth it. Besides, Cecelia was too bright, too full of life to sully herself with someone as dark as him. Whatever she believed, she could do so much better for herself.

And that was yet another point in favor of sending her away. If he turned her back over to her brother, Alexander would make sure she found a suitable husband. One who would come to adore her and give her children to dote on. Since, quite apparently, she had a singular talent in that direction.

He reined Judas in, intending to turn and take the bridle path back to the manor. Or better yet, he could meet her at the outlet on the other side of the copse, where he’d already confronted her once. The obstacles on the path around the pond would hold them up, as would Jeremy’s tendency to fall. He’d have time to catch them if only his leg would cooperate and allow him to tolerate a trot.

But a movement to his left caused him to rein in yet again. He squinted into the bushes. A man hunkered amid the branches. Quite clearly Lind was not the only one tracking Miss Sanford’s progress.

“You there, what are you doing?” Lind called.

The man emerged from his hiding spot, brushing a few stray twigs from his sleeves. He was dressed as a typical country gentleman in well-tailored buckskins tucked into Hessians. The breeze whipped the points of his lapels into his face. An even-featured face that society ladies might even term handsome. Something about it triggered Lind’s memory, but not well enough that he could call a name to mind.

“My lord,” the man said.

“Have we met?”

“I don’t believe so, my lord.” The stranger pulled out a hat, and set it over his curled mane. Lord Byron had nothing on this man’s foppish locks.

Lind sat back in the saddle. He ought to dismount, but he’d be damned if he’d ask this stranger to give him a leg up once he’d determined the other man’s business. “Clearly, you know to address me as a titled gentleman.”

“A lucky guess, given your dress and bearing, I assure you.” He tugged at the ends of his sleeves. “And am I to assume you are the master of this estate?”

“Indeed, which means you ought to explain why I find you skulking on my property.”

The stranger’s smile was polished and well oiled enough to smooth his way past any obstacle. “I meant no harm by it, I assure you.”

Any obstacle but Lind. “Perhaps you ought to give me your name and tell me why you were paying such close attention to my governess.”

“Oh, was that your governess?” He glanced over his shoulder, as if to make certain said governess was out of sight. “My, my, how Miss Sanford has come down in the world.”

“Come down in the world?” Lind echoed faintly. His voice might have sounded low and calm, but within him, something seethed to life, something akin to a dragon that wanted to burn everything in sight. Or at least tear this stranger apart. He didn’t stop to consider why. “What are you talking about? Who the hell are you?”

The man smiled, and brushed a dry leaf from his lapel. “Someone who clearly knows more about Miss Sanford than you do.”

“However well dressed you might be, you, sir, are trespassing on my property.” Lind nudged Judas forward, crowding the stranger. The urge to ride him down rolled through Lind, hot and wild, but he suppressed it. For now.

Maintain a firm grip on his emotions. Let nothing show beyond cold calculation.
The army had taught him that much. Still, it felt good to be able to demonstrate the threat.

“My, my, one wouldn’t think you, of all people, would hire one such as her. You’ve already got enough scandal attached to your name.”

The beast within lashed its tail and prepared a fireball. Not yet. As long as Lind controlled his anger, he controlled the situation. “Either tell me who you are or be gone with your insinuations.”

“I’d be happy to go on my way. Except Miss Sanford has something of mine, something I’d like returned.”

“Are you implying she’s a thief?”

“I might at that. I can see she’s already got you wrapped around her little finger as tight as it can go. Or perhaps it’s her hand wrapped about your—”

Lind emitted a growl, and Judas shuffled forward several steps until the stranger stood pinned against the hedge that lined the path. “Accusations such as yours demand proof. Unless you show me some, you can get off my property.”

The man laughed low and long. “No, I’ll wager you haven’t taken her to bed yet. You’re far too eager. Not to mention overprotective. It’s very charming. Women love that. You ought to save it for when she can see it. Funny, though.” He rubbed his chin while looking Lind over, from the top of his hat to the toes of his Hessians. “You don’t strike me as someone who enjoys pain. But in the event you are, Miss Sanford is quite talented at delivering.”

“What the devil does that mean?” His grip on himself was slipping like the reins through his fingers. It wouldn’t take much more to dig his heels into Judas’s flanks and allow the horse to take the bit. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t ride you down where you stand.”

“Because that would hardly be sporting of you.” Despite his precarious position, the stranger maintained a cheerful enough tone. “You might wish to save the dramatics for Miss Sanford. It could help your case. As for explaining myself, I’d love to, only I don’t imagine you’d be willing to sit down and offer me a drink between gentlemen.”

“I would have if you’d gone about your business differently. Now the only thing I want to see is the back of you. And if I ever catch you skulking about my property again, I’ll have you before the magistrate. In fact, I still might.”

“Just do me one small service, and I shall never darken your door again. Tell Miss Sanford that Mr. Eversham still wants his ring. Other than that, enjoy her. I certainly did.”