Читать книгу His Makeshift Wife - ANNE ASHLEY, Anne Ashley - Страница 8

As Briony approached the stables she discovered her late godmother’s devoted stableman, Samuel Dent, sitting outside the coach house, whittling away on a piece of wood. His face broke into a near-toothless grin when he finally caught sight of her and he made to rise.

‘No, sit yourself down, Sam. It’s all been very hectic out here this morning, so I understand.’

‘That it ‘as, miss. Takes me back years to when Master Luke were a lad. Always kept a string of fine ‘orses ‘ere back in them days, afore ‘e joined that cousin of ‘is up at Oxford. Master Luke always ‘ad an eye for a fine piece of ‘orseflesh. And so ‘e should. Taught ‘im m’self! Sat ‘im on ‘is very first pony not long after ‘e were breeched.’

Although this was news to Briony, it didn’t altogether surprise her. Sam had worked for Lady Ashworth nearly as long as Janet had and therefore had known Luke as a boy. Seemingly he held his late mistress’s nephew in the same high regard.

She cast a speculative glance at the larger stable. ‘Is your master about now, Sam?’

‘No, ‘e be over at the lodge, Miss Briony,’ he answered, thereby revealing that he, like Janet, hadn’t quite grown used to her new status. She wasn’t in the least offended. Had the truth been known, she wasn’t accustomed to it herself yet.

‘What on earth is he doing over there? I recall he did spend a deal of time there when he fancied a day’s shooting and wanted an early start. But the place hasn’t been used for years.’

‘Told ‘im so m’self, Miss Briony. But ‘e said as ‘ow ‘e didn’t expect it would take much to put right and ‘as gone over to take a look at what needs to be done to the place with that servant of ‘is by name o’ Carey. Seemingly this man Carey be going to stay at the lodge to take care o’ the stallion the master’s ‘ad brought ‘ere. Can be summut skittish by all accounts. But, then, they can all act up from time to time, like young men that does need to sow wild oats, so to speak.’

Briony decided it might be wise to steer the conversation into a slightly different direction. ‘Evidently your new master intends to breed horses, Sam.’

‘Seems so, miss. I said as ‘ow the beast could go in the smaller stable away from t’other ‘orses. But master said as ‘ow ‘e’d ‘andle easier if ‘e were kept at a goodly distance. And master should know.’

Leaving Sam to continue whittling in peace, Briony wandered into the larger stable to discover an unknown youth settling four fine bays into their respective stalls. Beside them, already champing happily away on hay, were two fine greys and a handsome chestnut gelding.

Curious to see the other animal that had arrived that day, Briony wandered through the large kitchen garden in the direction of a gate set in a high brick wall, which sheltered the more delicate plants from damaging winds. Beyond the wall were several fields where Lady Ashworth had kept various types of livestock during her lifetime, more than enough to provide meat and poultry for the household throughout the year. Beyond the easternmost field was a small wood. This, too, had been the sole property of Lady Ashworth and had provided her eager young nephew with plenty of game to shoot.

Although she had been taught to handle a gun herself, and was judged to be a fine shot, Briony had never been keen on reducing the number of rabbits and pheasants herself. Even so, she had wandered through the wood on countless occasions during the years she had lived at the Manor, so had no difficulty whatsoever in locating the single-storey, half-timbered structure nestling among the trees, adjacent to a large thicket.

She spotted the tall figure of her husband almost at once, standing outside the stable attached to the lodge. He was in earnest conversation with a man of below average height who, like herself, scarcely reached Luke’s shoulder. As she drew closer she noticed the stranger walked with a limp; noticed, too, that they ceased talking abruptly the instant they detected her footfall. Moreover, unless she was much mistaken, there was a hint of disquiet flickering across Luke’s features, as though he suspected she might have overheard some part of their private discourse, a moment before his expression changed completely and he came smilingly forwards to greet her.

‘Why, my dear!’ He reached for her hand and held it firmly in his own. ‘I didn’t expect to see you up and about so early.’

‘Not so early,’ she returned. ‘And I’m not accounted a slug-a-bed as a rule.’ She cast a brief look at the man who was staring fixedly in her direction, as though attempting to get her measure, and then raised one fine brow in a questioning arch as she turned her full attention back to her husband. ‘I trust I do not intrude?’

‘Not at all, m’dear,’ he returned with courteous aplomb, though whether he truly meant what he said Briony wasn’t altogether sure. ‘In fact, your arrival is most timely,’ he added. ‘It offers me the opportunity to make known to you Ben Carey, who has been with me for a number of years.’

As he touched his forelock politely, he limped a pace or two towards her, thereby drawing her attention once again to his disability. ‘Would I be correct in assuming that you met in the army, and that is also where you acquired your injury, Ben?’

‘That you would, ma’am,’ he answered, in a distinct north-country accent. ‘Got wounded at Oporto—lost part of my knee. Were lucky to have kept my leg, as it happens, but my marching days were over. Would have been sent home and kicked out of the army to live I don’t know what kind of life if it hadn’t been for the Major here. Took me on as his personal servant—his batman, like. Been together ever since.’

Clearly he was devoted to Luke. And understandably so, Briony mused. Evidently her new husband possessed an altruistic streak, which he did his utmost to refute a moment later by announcing that he had profited more by their association.

‘After all, to whom else could I entrust such a fine piece of horseflesh as Vulcan?’

This succeeded in capturing Briony’s attention. ‘Would that be the stallion you’ve had brought to the Manor?’

‘It would indeed. Would you care to make his acquaintance?’

She didn’t need more persuasion than that and eagerly accompanied both men into the stable, which she saw at a glance had already been restored to good order after years of neglect, before her attention was well and truly captured by the magnificent creature pacing his large stall.

‘Part Arabian, part Irish-bred stock,’ he enlightened her, as his much-coveted possession stuck his head over the wooden barrier to receive his customary treat.

Briony couldn’t forbear a smile. ‘I see you spoil him. But I cannot say I blame you. He’s truly magnificent.’

‘He is indeed,’ her husband wholeheartedly agreed, a moment before his teeth flashed in the most wickedly provocative grin Briony had ever witnessed in a member of his sex. ‘And like most virile young males he behaves much better if offered a sweetener.’

Suspecting a double meaning, Briony flatly refused to be drawn and, for the second time that morning, wisely changed the subject by asking if the animal could be ridden.

‘Yes, but only by me and Ben here, who manages him remarkably well considering the stiffness in his leg,’ he responded; although he had spoken lightly, there was no mistaking the clear edge of warning in his voice.

‘Let me assure you I have no intention of attempting to do so,’ she declared with feeling. ‘I haven’t forgotten what happened the last time I rode one of your precious horses.’

He was totally bewildered, and it clearly showed. ‘Pray refresh my memory! What did happen?’

‘You tossed me in the lily pond upon my return to the Manor!’

Ben Carey’s shoulders shaking in suppressed laughter only served to ignite one of his master’s occasional lapses into devilment. ‘Upon my word! All I can say is I must have been in a rare good humour that day. You wouldn’t get off so lightly if you attempt the like again!’

This was hardly destined to act as a salve on a young woman’s bruised ego and it didn’t. Nor did the servant’s sudden loud guffaws help to lessen the feelings of ill usage she’d experienced all those many years ago.

A descendent of the famed Celtic warrior queen herself could not have looked more determined in her resolve. ‘You ever lay violent hands upon me again, Luke Kingsley,’ she warned, hands on hips and swinging round to face him squarely, ‘and I would strongly advise you not to sleep in your bed at night without securely locking both doors.’

Once again those white teeth flashed in the most infuriatingly goading smile. ‘Do I infer correctly from that that I might expect a visit from you, my love, should I attempt to play the heavy-handed husband?’ he enquired in an undertone, so that only she could hear. ‘Would that, perchance, lead to a better understanding between us and a—er—more pleasurable way of passing the night hours than in sleep? What a tease you are, to be sure! And after last night’s rejection, too!’ he declared, much to her further combined chagrin and acute embarrassment. ‘But then, I have ever heard it remarked upon that females are fickle and have a tendency to change their minds quite often.’

‘Well, this one does not!’ she hissed through clenched teeth, and swung away in high dudgeon, only to be caught the instant she had set foot outside the stable.

She refused to demean herself by attempting an undignified struggle and merely glanced down at the shapely hand that retained a firm grasp of her upper arm. ‘Unhand me at once, sir!’ She stared up at him, the look in her eyes clearly a challenge. ‘Or are you to prove once again that you are not a man of your word? You swore you would not come near me unless bidden to do so.’

He released her at once, letting his hand drop to his side, almost in a gesture of reluctant acceptance, or even defeat. He even sounded slightly despondent as he said, ‘I admit last night was a grave mistake on my part and I assure you it will never occur again. You’ve decided we’ll not be lovers and I shall respect that decision. But does that mean we may not at least be friends? The next six months shall be bleak, indeed, if we remain aloof strangers.’

All at once she felt ashamed of herself for overreacting to what had been nothing more than, she now felt sure, a bit of ribald teasing on his part. She wasn’t some pampered child who couldn’t take a little playful tormenting from time to time. She’d always prided herself on her sense of humour, for heaven’s sake! So why on earth did she react so negatively to this man’s gentle goading?

‘I—I see no reason why we cannot become … friends,’ she returned softly, and was rewarded with one of his most beguiling smiles. He really was the most attractive man, she decided, most especially when his waving brown hair flopped casually over his forehead, as now, and he was dressed for riding, clothes that suited his muscular frame so admirably.

‘Good. And you can prove you mean what you say by accompanying me to the local town. I need to engage some tradesmen to make necessary repairs to the lodge. Besides which, it will do no harm at all for the locals to see us about together.’ He cast a disapproving glance down at her attire. ‘But I have no intention of taking you about dressed in widow’s weeds.’