Читать книгу A Wager for the Widow - Elisabeth Hobbes - Страница 12

Chapter Four

An insistent knocking at the bedchamber door dragged Eleanor from her sleep much sooner than she would have liked. She buried her head beneath the warmth of the covers, but the rapping became louder until it had the rhythm and intensity of a drum and she could ignore it no longer. She climbed out of bed with a groan. Her foot was still tender as she hobbled to the door.

Anne stood with one hand raised, caught mid-knock.

‘I thought you were never going to wake up,’ the younger girl said petulantly, twisting a lock of her strawberry-blonde hair around her fingers. ‘You left the hall early enough last night to have had more than enough rest.’

Eleanor smiled and beckoned her in, relieved it was only her sister and not her mother. Lady Fitzallan had definite opinions about the hour her daughters should be dressed by. Even after running her own establishment for years Eleanor found herself squirming at the thought of a scolding. She half-hopped back to the bed and climbed in, stretching her leg out.

‘Open the shutters, please, Anne,’ she instructed and watery daylight flooded into the room. Eleanor peered down at her ankle, wincing at the sight. Released from her tightly laced boot, the foot had swollen overnight and an ugly bruise crept from her instep across and round her anklebone. No wonder it hurt to walk on. Anne gasped in disgust at the sight of Eleanor’s ankle and climbed on to the bed, leaning heavily against her sister and drawing the thick blanket close around them both.

‘You said nothing of this to Mother last night,’ Anne exclaimed accusingly. ‘How did you do it?’

Eleanor reached down and gave her ankle an experimental prod. A biting pain shot across her foot as she touched the tender flesh. It would take days to heal, she was certain of it. Her anger at Rudhale’s ludicrous actions on the ferry returned in a rush.

‘I slipped on the ferry crossing the Taw and twisted it,’ she explained crossly. She threw herself back against the pillow in annoyance. ‘It was not my doing. I was almost knocked overboard thanks to the reckless behaviour of...’ Her voice trailed off cautiously. Last night she had passed up the chance to tell her father what had passed between herself and the steward. She could hardly now share that with Anne, at least not if she expected it to remain secret any longer than it took for the girl to leave the room.

Anne was watching her closely, her hazel eyes wide. ‘Of who?’ the girl asked eagerly.

‘A stranger on horseback. No one important,’ Eleanor continued. Her irritation mounted as she recounted the incident. Anne’s reaction was not at all what she had expected, however. Her sister’s eyes shone and she clutched Eleanor’s arm passionately.

‘Eleanor, that’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever heard!’ Anne’s voice was a high-pitched squeal. ‘He saved you from the water and pulled you into his arms, yet you didn’t kiss him? How could you have resisted him?’

‘How could I have resisted an arrogant man who thinks he could demand such an intimacy from a woman travelling alone?’ Eleanor asked in surprise. There were six years between them and sometimes she forgot how silly Anne could be.

Anne snorted and hugged herself tightly, her face wistful. ‘A kiss from a dashing stranger! It’s like something a troubadour would sing about. It’s so romantic, Eleanor. Was he handsome?’

The steward’s face rose in Eleanor’s mind and an unwelcome blush began to creep around her neck at the memory of his eyes flashing in her direction. She bit her lip and reached for the comb that lay on the table.

‘I don’t recall,’ she said frostily, pushing down the memory of the way her heart had thumped. ‘Besides, however handsome he was, it would not excuse such rudeness.’

Anne took the comb from Eleanor’s hand and began to run it through the tangles of her sister’s hair. ‘So he was handsome!’ Anne said triumphantly. ‘Promise me that if it should ever happen again you will not refuse,’ she begged.

Eleanor’s heart lurched at the thought. She caught the direction her thoughts were leading and scolded herself. The steward’s manner towards her in Sir Edgar’s library had been courteous and there was no reason to believe he would be so brazen in future. It most certainly would not happen again.

‘I would do no such thing,’ she said calmly. ‘And neither would you unless you wanted to ruin your reputation.’

Anne pouted. ‘That’s easy for you to say. You’ve already had one husband and I’m sure you could catch another any time you chose. I’ve never had a suitor, not properly, and Mother isn’t even looking for me. No one will ever marry me!’

Eleanor took her sister’s hand and smiled. ‘You’re three years younger than I was when I married Baldwin. There’s plenty of time for suitors.’

Anne’s face lit up. Eleanor bit her lip thoughtfully. Anne had been only ten years old when Baldwin had come into Eleanor’s life. How could she begin to explain what it felt like to be presented to a stranger ten years her senior and informed she would be his bride? ‘Don’t be too keen to give your freedom away, it will happen soon enough,’ she said earnestly. ‘Let’s not talk any more of this though. Dinner seems a long time ago and I want some breakfast.’

Leaning on her sister’s arm for support, Eleanor made her way to the Great Hall. Unlike the evening meal, breakfast was a more informal affair with members of the household coming and going as their needs and duties dictated. By the time Eleanor and Anne arrived the servants and the girls’ parents had long since departed—Lady Fitzallan to her solar and Sir Edgar no doubt to his library—so the hall was empty. The two girls settled on to the padded seat in the window alcove and set about devouring the remaining bread and ale. Their earlier conversation was forgotten as they swapped tales of what had passed since their last meeting.

The door opened and Eleanor’s heart sank as William Rudhale entered. She had hoped him to be miles away by now, riding back with his wine order. Rudhale did not seem to notice the women at first. He stood on the threshold and glanced around the room, his brow knotted with concentration.

‘William!’

Anne’s unexpected cry of greeting brought Eleanor out of her reverie. She frowned at her sister, but Anne was watching the steward too intently to notice, her cheeks reddening visibly.

On realising he was not alone the steward gave a start, but his face broke into a charming smile. He walked to them in long, confident strides and bowed deeply. Eleanor studied him surreptitiously. The last time she had seen him he had been well into a flagon of wine with Edmund. Unless her brother had greatly changed his habits, by rights this morning Rudhale should be suffering from a sore head and longing for a darkened room. Instead he looked fresh and well, his hair curling about his collar and his beard trimmed close. He was dressed plainly in a dark-blue tunic and black breeches. The leather belt that drew his waist was ornately stamped: the only touch of vanity in an otherwise sober outfit.

‘Good morning, William. I didn’t see you yesterday,’ Anne said, her words rushing out in a tumble before anyone else could speak. Her eyes glowed. ‘I looked for you when I was riding, but Tobias wasn’t in the stable. Will you be riding today? I shall be.’

As she heard the excitement in Anne’s voice a terrible realisation struck Eleanor. Her sister was attracted to Rudhale. With a head filled with tales of romance and bandits, naturally Anne would find such a well-looking young man attractive. His scar would no doubt only contribute an air of danger and add to his appeal rather than detract from it. If only she had told Anne the horseman’s identity and warned her away when she had the chance.

Eleanor leaned forward and stared at the steward, watching his reaction as a fox might watch a rabbit. Her sudden movement caught Rudhale’s attention. His eyes slid to Eleanor’s and widened as he obviously realised the conclusion she had arrived at. He shook his head in a gesture of denial. The movement was so small as to be almost imperceptible, but his meaning was clear. He was aware of Anne’s feelings, but did not reciprocate them.

Rudhale smiled politely at Anne, his hands stiffly by his side. ‘I’m sorry, Miss Anne,’ he said formally. ‘I hope you enjoy your ride, but I have so much to do today after arriving back so late yesterday evening.’ His tone was polite, but his face showed none of the vitality it had contained when he had demanded the kiss on the ferry. Eleanor sat back against the window frame, her shoulders dropping slightly with relief. Anne sighed with dissatisfaction.

‘Perhaps your sister will accompany you,’ Rudhale suggested, smiling at Eleanor with a good degree more warmth than he had her sister.

‘She can’t. She’s injured her foot,’ Anne replied. She sighed heavily. ‘Ah well, I shall have to ride alone and hope I encounter a dashing horseman like Eleanor did yesterday!’

Eleanor’s mouth dropped open at her sister’s indiscreet words. Rudhale’s eyes lit up and he looked at her with interest.

‘Those were not my words as well you are aware, Anne,’ Eleanor said sharply. Her stomach curled with embarrassment. The thought that Rudhale might believe she had described him as such was excruciating. ‘I think I shall return to my room. I have some business to attend to.’ She lowered her feet to the floor, wincing slightly. Anne moved to help her, but Rudhale stepped forward.

‘Allow me to assist you, Lady Peyton,’ Rudhale said gallantly. ‘It would be a shame for your sister to delay her ride.’ He held an arm out to her.

Eleanor opened her mouth to refuse him, but changed her mind. The necessity of needing his help won out over her reluctance to be in his company. They walked silently side by side, Rudhale supporting her weight as though she was little more than a child. He slipped his arm around her waist as she leaned heavily against him. His hips brushed against hers and the contours of his broad chest were unmistakable through his tunic. Try as she might, Eleanor could not ignore the way her heartbeat quickened at his touch.

‘I thought you were leaving today,’ she muttered as they left the Great Hall.

‘Other matters prevented me going personally so I sent a messenger. I trust dinner lived up to your expectations last night, Lady Peyton?’ Rudhale asked as they walked slowly along the corridor.

‘Perfectly, Master Rudhale,’ Eleanor said coolly, ‘Though I’ll admit they were low to begin with.’

Rudhale stopped walking. He cocked his head, a small frown furrowing his brow. ‘How so, my lady?’ he asked. ‘You do me an injustice.’

‘An injustice?’ Eleanor folded her arms across her chest and gave a short laugh of disbelief. ‘What indication have you given me that you are anything more than an irresponsible fool?’ she asked scathingly. ‘Your behaviour yesterday was hardly to your credit. Leaving aside the injury you caused me, if my father knew what you had demanded do you think you would continue in his employment for long?’

Rudhale’s gaze became iron hard. ‘Contrary to what my appearance might suggest I am not in the habit of “demanding”. I merely suggested it because when a beautiful woman ended up in my arms it would be foolish not to!’ He crossed his own arms and planted his feet apart, mirroring Eleanor’s stance. ‘And you did not tell Sir Edgar what happened when you had the opportunity,’ he pointed out. ‘Why is that? What stopped you revealing my improper behaviour? It can’t be simply because you thought me dashing, though I owe you thanks for that compliment.’

A knot of irritation blocked Eleanor’s throat, choking her retort. Truly the man was more arrogant than she had believed possible! ‘Believe me, Master Rudhale, I do not find your behaviour “dashing”. That was my sister’s word as I already explained. Nothing could be further from the truth.’

Rudhale was grinning again. Really, did the man find everything in life amusing?

Eleanor smoothed her hair back, conscious that she was losing her composure in front of him.

‘I did not tell my father purely for my own ends. I have spent too long battling to be allowed my independence for some fool to ruin that for me. The fact it benefitted you is purely coincidental. Now you may help me to my room or leave me to manage by myself, but I do not wish to speak of this any further.’

* * *

Lady Peyton began to limp away, leaving Will staring at her slender back. The encounter was not going how he had pictured it when he had first seen her in the Great Hall. He had congratulated himself on succeeding in getting her alone so quickly, but he had not anticipated her being quite so cold. Seeing his chance to lay the groundwork for the wager about to disappear, Will caught her by the arm. She glared at him once again. He held his hands up and fixed her with a disarming smile.

‘I think it is fair to say we did not begin on the best footing, my lady,’ he said, inclining his head towards her ankle. Her face softened at his jest, but she bit her lip, as though she was amused, but did not want to admit such a thing. He stored the information away for future use.

‘Shall we start again?’ he asked. Lady Peyton said nothing, but when he held an arm out again she took it. A small thrill of victory ran through Will. Their progress to Lady Peyton’s chamber was slow, but that gave him all the more time to win her over.

‘I noticed when you came to dinner that you were limping. Is it very painful?’ Will asked, filling his voice with concern. ‘I hope it doesn’t interrupt your activities too greatly, though I’m afraid it will stop you riding for a few days at least.’

Lady Peyton shook her head. ‘It aches, but I have no plans to ride,’ she replied.

‘I hope it is better before the midwinter feast. It would be a shame if you could not dance.’

‘I don’t dance,’ she answered, bowing her head and increasing her speed slightly. In the dimly lit corridor her face was obscured by shadows, but something in her tone caught Will’s attention. A hint of regret nestling amongst the aloofness, he thought.

‘I thought all ladies could dance,’ he said, raising one eyebrow.

The muscle in her arm tightened involuntarily under his. ‘I didn’t say I couldn’t. I choose not to,’ she said curtly before lapsing into silence.

They had reached her bedchamber. Lady Peyton untwined her arm from Will’s and opened the door. A crumpled green-velvet coverlet was visible on the bed and Will’s mind began to wander down paths it shouldn’t. Moving a touch closer, he rested one arm on the door frame and bent his head over Lady Peyton, fixing her with the intense gaze that never failed to leave his targets breathless with desire.

‘Lady Peyton, I owe you an apology,’ he breathed huskily. ‘What I did on the ferry...what I asked of you...I was wrong to do so.’ Her green eyes widened in surprise. This was almost too easy. ‘I have no excuse other than that I was swept away by your beauty.’

Will dropped his eyes to the ground as though ashamed, before raising them to look at her once more through half-closed lids. Instead of the rapt expression he expected, Lady Peyton looked outraged.

‘Swept away?’ she said disdainfully. ‘It’s fortunate indeed your horse did not miss his landing if you are swept away so easily!’

‘I mean no offence,’ Will answered calmly. ‘It is a compliment to you that I was overcome by sentiments stronger than my sense of propriety.’

‘I want no such compliments, Master Rudhale,’ Lady Peyton exclaimed. Two pink spots appeared enticingly on her cheeks. ‘If I must suffer to live under the same roof as you, the greatest compliment you can pay me is to believe me when I say I wish you to stay out of my presence as much as possible.’ She spun on her heel and half-flung herself into the room, slamming the door behind her.

Will stood alone in the corridor, scarcely able to believe what had just happened. He fought back a laugh of glee. Truly she was wonderful.

There had not been a woman yet who had resisted Will’s attempts at seduction—few even tried. Now he was more determined than ever that a woman as captivating as Eleanor Peyton would not be the first!