Chapter 12
Robina had little time in the next few days to miss Janet or do aught save accede to Lady Rosalie’s wishes. They spent Thursday afternoon looking through clothing kists that Ada had stored away after Robina’s mother died.
When Robina protested, Rosalie had scoffed. “Do not think I mean for you to wear any of these, dearling. They are long out of fashion. But we may find use for some of the fabrics. In troth, you may be surprised by what we find.”
Fortunately, in Robina’s view, moths had ruined some of the fabrics, and most were sadly thin.
Moreover, since Robina had inherited her father’s coloring, rather than her mother’s flaxen hair and pale complexion, Rosalie declared the soft pinks and pale blues that Lady Gledstanes had favored too insipid for Robina.
“At least, now we can have someone turn them all into useful rags,” Rosalie said briskly Friday morning as they broke their fast. “We can also visit the shopkeepers in Hawick today with a good conscience.”
They set out after breakfast with Rosalie’s equerry, Ned Graham, and an escort of six riders, led by Jock Cranston.
Robina would have preferred having Sandy in charge, but when Dev said she could take Jock and three of his men, or he’d go himself, she agreed to Jock.
She was certain that, with Dev and Rosalie advising her, she’d want to murder one if not both before day’s end.
Jock would offer no opinions about how she should dress or wear her hair.
Rosalie had arranged Robina’s hair herself that morning in two long plaits, looped, twisted together at Robina’s nape, and contained in some black netting of Rosalie’s.
“We’ll find lighter netting more suited to your hair at the haberdasher’s, dearling,” she said when Robina grimaced.
“But you must accustom yourself to dressing like a lady.”
Robina had been tempted to take a few coins from the jar to spend but Rab had warned against it: “Rosalie would surely ask where you got them!”
Having survived a productive day in town, she nearly lost her temper the next morning when Rosalie insisted on plucking her eyebrows.
“I do not agree with the current fashion of shaving one’s front hair, let alone one’s eyebrows,” Rosalie said, clamping her tweezers onto one errant hair and yanking it out.
“We do want a well-defined arch, though, so don’t wince like that unless you want me to pluck too much in error.
Sir David said only this morning how much you remind him of your twin brother.
But, I vow, he will not say so if we can tame your eyebrows.
I shall dab a touch of pomatum on each when I finish, to lay them flat. ”
“Sakes, what’s wrong wi’ twins looking like twins?”
Since Rab had seldom spoken to her in recent days, Robina jumped at the sound of his voice and nearly got the tweezers in her eye.
“Do sit still,” Rosalie said. “I vow, you are as twitchy as Benjy. Did you see how Sir David stared at you last night? I think he has begun to see how feminine you can be.”
“He’s got nae business staring at you at all. Tell him to stop.”
Suppressing her annoyance, Robina said, “Good sakes, madam, why should I want him to notice me that way? Does he think me unfeminine?”
“God bless us, you like the man!”
Mentally retorting that she did not like Dev, Robina fought to conceal any outward display of her shock.
Rosalie shrugged. “You may not care about such things yet, dearling,” she said.
“But he is a man, and one can often judge how others will react by the way those nearest one do. You have likely drawn no such interest before now, as busy as you’ve been seeing to Benjy.
But you won’t want to continue seeing to his needs after the laddie takes a wife.
Only think how horrid it would be to live here at Coklaw with a much younger good-sister giving the orders, whilst you look after her squalling bairns. ”
“Have mercy, madam! That cannot happen for at least a decade.”
“Blethers, many men marry at fifteen and can legally marry younger,” Rosalie said.
“Benjy is nine, so that is just six years away. He will begin taking interest in girls sooner than that, too, horrified though he may be now by the thought. Worse, you have just turned nineteen, more than old enough to be married, Robina. By the time Benjy begins seeking a wife, if you don’t have bairns of your own with a man of your own… ”
“Mayhap even twins of your own,” Rab chortled.
Robina’s head began to ache. She liked Rosalie and enjoyed her company, but there were times when she feared that the woman would drive her mad.
Sunday afternoon, Robina declared as she arose from the table after their midday meal that she meant to ride into the countryside to clear her head, only to have Rosalie and Dev say in chorus that she must not.
“Not until I can arrange a suitable escort,” Dev added. “Jock Cranston and Rosalie’s Ned heard in Hawick that the raiders have been raiding again.”
“East of us, aye,” Robina told them, fighting to keep her temper. “But if any were near enough to stir trouble here, I’ve heard naught of it.”
“Even so,” Dev said, “you must not ride out alone.”
“Then come with me,” she said impulsively, adding a belated smile.
Caught off guard for once, having expected her to argue more, Dev realized that Robby was truly unconcerned about raiders.
Moreover, he wanted to ride with her. He waited for Rosalie to speak, but she turned away to say something to her woman, and Robby did not invite her to ride with them. “Very well,” he said. “I’ll go.”
When they reached the stables and he found that Sandy had bridled Black Corby for her and had strapped a Borderer’s flat leather saddle to the stallion’s back, he snapped, “What the devil do you mean by this, Sandy?”
“The laddie needs exercise, sir, and since Master Rab’s equerry died in that fracas, as I thought ye knew, none o’ the lads here can ride him,” Sandy said, surprised. “Her ladyship did send earlier to ask that I fetch him out for her.”
Robina said, “You know I can ride him, Dev, and he needs exercise. He’s had almost none since you arrived, due to the rain and…” She bit her lower lip.
“… and due to my presence and your knowledge that I’d object,” he said, giving her a stern look. “If he needs exercise, one of my lads or yours can see to it.”
Sandy opened his mouth, but Robina forestalled him by asking sweetly, “Which of your lads do you like least, sir? Or have you forgotten how Rab trained his horses? Recall that the men who attacked you did not steal Corby, and that you had to lead him home.”
Nettled, he said, “Do you think I could not ride him?”
“In troth, I don’t know,” she replied, meeting his gaze. “You ride as well as Rab did, if not better. Have you ridden Corby?”
“No,” he answered honestly. The truth was that he’d have liked to try the stallion’s paces, but Rab had never allowed it. Memories of things that Rab had told him about the horse began coming back to him.
“I expect you could teach him to mind you if you exerted the patience to do it,” Robina said thoughtfully. “However, if you expect to beat him into submission…”
“I don’t,” Dev retorted. “Rab evidently taught him to accept you, though.”
“Do you want to test me, to see if I can manage him?” she asked with a soft but teasing smile.
Sandy looked down at the ground, doubtless hiding his own smile, but Dev knew when he’d lost.
“Stow your mockery, lass,” he said. “He’s no horse for a lady, but I know you can ride him. I’ve seen what Corby can do when he loses his temper, though. That was the first thought I had when I saw that you meant to ride him.”
“He never loses his temper with me, but I’ll forgive you for your lack of confidence in us,” she said. “Prithee, Sandy, give me a leg up.”
Freezing Sandy in place with a look, Dev said, “Let me, Robby.” Making a stirrup with his hands, he hoisted her up, watching as she arranged her skirts and settled herself astride. In the process, she revealed that although she was barefoot, she wore the damnable breeks again, under her skirts.
“What the…?”
Grinning, she said, “I do possess some modesty, and riding astride is more comfortable with them. One can never get one’s skirts underneath one just right.”
Stifling a chuckle, he easily imagined that skirts, although useful for padding, could create problems for a rider.
The stallion stood as if rooted until she patted its neck. It acknowledged the pat with a toss of its glossy head, a snuffling snort, and a prancing shuffle or two.
“Corby is eager to go,” Robby said. “You do still mean to come with us?”
“I do,” Dev said, seeing with relief that Jock was leading Auld Nick out. The two stallions were well acquainted and well mannered unless bad manners were commanded or the order of the day, such as in battle.
“I thought we might ride up Sunnyside Hill,” Robina said. “It will be good exercise for them, and we can see how Rab’s grave has fared since our last visit. Then, if we ride down the other side, we can let the horses out on the flatter road home.”
He agreed and let her lead. For a time, he scanned the surrounding country as they rode. But the woods grew thicker, and birds and other forest creatures began to chatter to each other, so he relaxed and let himself enjoy the day.
He also admired Robina’s light hands and natural posture, as well as Corby’s quick response to her slightest gesture or command. She was, he decided, much safer on Corby than she would be walking alone in the woods. Aware that he’d be unwise to say so, he watched silently and admired.
As they passed through a clearing that gave a view to the west, he felt a strange prickling that he recognized as the sense of someone watching him. Looking westward, he saw only the range of hills that separated them from Slitrig Water.
Robina looked, too, making him wonder if she sensed the same thing.
“What is it?” he asked her.