Chapter One
The rainstorm had arrived, unannounced. Duke was drenched.
The sporadic clouds had been whipped together by a strong wind, which had also appeared with no warning.
Rain poured from the heavens onto Duke’s back, running down in rivulets along the hairs of his legs.
It was the same for his man, who sat huddled upon the wagon, his great coat shut tight against the weather, his hat drooping under the onslaught of so much water upon it.
But onward they must. They had promised a delivery to Chadwick Hall, and Master Reid took his role as farmer very seriously. Besides, it was barely a mile to go now. They were already soaked. It couldn’t get any worse.
As if the storm would say otherwise, a bolt of lightning tore through the darkened sky, splitting and arcing in two fierce spears, one cracking a branch free from a nearby tree, the other triggering a scream a short distance behind them.
Duke would perhaps have let out a cry in shock too, but the sight of a mare tearing past them at great speed startled him doubly, so that he came to a complete stop to gather himself in silence.
From out of the moody purple air came a call.
“Help!”
It wasn’t very loud. Certainly, it struggled to be heard against the backdrop of the thunder and downpour that dominated the scene.
“Help!” came the call again. A little closer this time.
Duke’s man jumped from his seat, crying, “Whoa!”, which Duke thought rather unnecessary, as he hadn’t moved a muscle since they had stopped.
The sound of Master Reid’s running feet splashing through muddy puddles was largely ignored by Duke.
He merely waited patiently, despite the rain’s attempt to soak him beyond his already saturated state.
Duke was a very steady sort of fellow. He worked hard.
He ate well. He enjoyed the company of others.
It was a simple life. Which was why he barely shifted his weight while Master Reid charged off back down the road.
It wasn’t long before his man returned with company.
Duke did not even have to turn his head to know from the perfume that the new human person was of the mare persuasion.
Yet even in the rain, he could smell another, more familiar scent.
The huge muscles in his shoulders flexed as he bent his neck to the side, breathed more deeply, and concentrated.
Willow. The scent was unmistakable. It was imprinted upon him. He raised his chin and neighed into the distance, as if Willow—for it must have been she who had bolted past them a minute ago—could hear him.
“Steady on there,” said Master Reid kindly, misunderstanding his call. “We’ll get you to shelter soon.”
With the young, dark-haired woman now seated next to Duke’s man, they set off again, Master Reid talking in low, reassuring tones to her as he would to Duke if he had had a fright.
They had barely covered a hundred yards when a horse came racing down the road toward them with some fellow on his back. At the sight of the young woman on the wagon, the man pulled at the reins, the smell of relief rolling off him in dense waves.
“Miss Richards!” the man shouted over the noise of the storm. “You’re safe! When I saw your horse come back alone, I was so worried!”
“You’re the groom from Chadwick Hall, aren’t you?” asked Master Reid. When the man nodded, Master Reid did the same, adding, “I’ll bring Miss Richards to the house. Got a delivery to make there, anyway. Tell a maid to ready a warm blanket and a bowl of hot water for the young lady’s feet.”
“I’m sorry for the trouble, Shelton,” said the young woman.
“Willow surprised me with her enthusiasm to be off. It was not my intention to leave you behind. I had barely gained control of her when the storm broke. Then she was just as eager to be home again. Unfortunately, a lightning strike deepened her enthusiasm to return, and I was promptly unseated. Only a bit of a bruise on my rump to show for it, though.”
Duke liked her voice. She did not fight against the elements by shouting as the groom had done. She spoke clearly and her words carried well enough to those who were right beside her. The worst of her misadventure behind her, she was calming already, her heartbeat slowing.
“Glad to hear it, miss,” said the groom. He hesitated. He looked at Master Reid and the young lady.
Humans were so complicated. They always worried that pairs of them would get up to natural activities if they were left alone.
As if that were such a bad thing. Well, they weren’t alone.
Duke was there, after all. Besides, it wasn’t as if Master Reid would have his way with the young woman in the storm.
Even horses knew better than to risk being struck by lightning for a bit of play.
The groom seemed to have reached the same conclusion, for he gave Master Reid a thoughtful sort of look, the kind where he stared longer than he needed to, his eyes squinting a little.
Satisfied that he had communicated something of importance, the groom rode back to the house, his horse mute and obedient—like many of his kind who did not have a long relationship with their rider—and nary a greeting between him and Duke.
Duke knew that they would follow, but he waited for Master Reid to say, “Walk on,” before his heavy hooves did just that.
*
Cassie could have kicked herself. She was a better horsewoman than that.
But Willow had taken her by surprise. Cassie hadn’t expected such a bold response from a Cleveland Bay.
Weren’t they meant to be docile in nature?
Then again, the mare’s behavior hadn’t been rough as such.
She simply seemed to have been keen to be out on a run.
With much of the family now in residence at Chadwick Hall, the “spare” horse had been assigned to Cassie, since she was only a lady’s companion.
Miss Juliana Webb and her cousin, Mr. Wesley Prescott, had rightly claimed the two thoroughbreds.
And Willow, more suited to pulling the carriage, had been offered to Cassie.
In the end, no real harm had been done. However, Lady Webb had not shared this sentiment.
“What were you thinking, riding off on your own?” she asked, as if the choice had been Cassie’s.
“I was to have been attended by Shelton,” Cassie tried to explain. “Juliana was having a lie-down, and I thought I might take some exercise. I had not expected so spirited a reaction from the horse—or the elements, for that matter.”
“To be deposited at our door like a sack of potatoes,” continued Lady Webb, disregarding Cassie’s defense.
“And by some laborer, no less. You might not carry the Prescott name, Miss Richards, but your actions reflect upon the family. We have scarcely been back at our ancestral home two days, and already the neighbors will be talking.”
“Begging your pardon, Lady Webb,” Cassie said, “but I don’t see why they would. Mr. Reid did not seem the type to gossip. In fact, he was every inch a gentleman to a lady in need. And the storm precluded any further witnesses who might be inclined to make a story of nothing.”
Lady Webb’s brief fury hitched. “‘Mr. Reid’?”
“Yes, I believe that was the name he gave. Mr. Martin Reid. He was making a delivery to the house, which was a stroke of luck for me, although I do think Shelton would have found me soon after, anyway.”
“And you introduced yourself to Mr. Reid?”
Cassie cocked her head to the side. What a decidedly odd question! “I did, of course.”
“I see.” Lady Webb pondered this for a moment. “And he said nothing at the mention of your name?”
“What should he say? It was an introduction under distressing circumstances. There was little to add after we had covered the essentials of it.”
Lady Webb pursed her lips. “If you are to cross paths with him again, I would appreciate you keeping communication to a minimum. He is merely a farmer, after all. You are Juliana’s companion. As such, you should only keep company with those gentlemen who are worthy of her presence also.”
“Of course, your ladyship.” Cassie bowed her head to indicate the necessary submission to her employer’s will.
“And you,” said Lady Webb, arching her neck over her shoulder at her nephew, “will ensure that Mr. Reid does not make a nuisance of himself. Miss Richards might understand what is expected of her, but one cannot expect similar decorum from a working-class fellow. Despite her unfortunate parentage, she has been provided ample dowry for a good match. If that should come to light, she might receive the wrong sort of attention.”
“I am very grateful for such provision,” interrupted Cassie. “But I can take care of myself.”
“Nonsense,” answered Mr. Prescott. “You are a woman. And it is your privilege to be protected by a man.”
Cassie barely managed to control the scowl that threatened to transfigure her normally cheerful features.
Mr. Prescott was far too much like his father to be considered a protector of women.
His oddly gray skin belied his youthful years.
He was only one and twenty, a few months older than Cassie.
His short, black hair and well-proportioned face should have made him handsome.
But the moodiness that lay like a fog beneath the surface of his character did a thorough job of ruining his appeal.
“Mama,” said Juliana, her kind, open face a sharp contrast to her cousin’s, “I believe the sort of man who was kind enough to come to her rescue is unlikely to be bothersome. Such actions speak for his good nature. Besides, there is little chance of running into him again. I am only grateful no harm has come to my friend. I am going to take her back upstairs now so that we may read quietly together before the fire.” She threw a wan smile at her cousin.
“We won’t be needing your protection at this time, Wesley. ”
The smile was not returned. Cassie had never seen Mr. Prescott smile.
And she had known him a very long time. She had been Juliana’s companion since the tender age of four, when Lady Webb had sent for Cassie at her unknown benefactor’s insistence.
Why an anonymous sponsor should hold any sway over the pragmatic viscountess had always baffled Cassie.
And why such an influential personage would be her benefactor at all was no clearer.
Whatever the reason, Cassie had received tutelage alongside Juliana and further introduction into fine society under the wary eye of Lady Webb.
She had grown to love Juliana like a sister, although all had to be correct and by the book when the matriarch was among them.
Cassie had never risked her displeasure.
She understood all too well how easily her circumstances might change if her position was no longer welcomed.
The two young women left the sitting room demurely, with Cassie determined to ignore the unnerving sensation of Mr. Prescott’s eyes ever upon her.
As soon as they were out of sight, however, Juliana slipped her arm through Cassandra’s, drawing her up the stairs a little less daintily than her mother would have liked.
They giggled softly, tucking their heads close together and plotting which novel they would be poring over from their secret stash in Juliana’s room.
Just as they reached the upstairs landing, an unwanted voice called up to them. “I shall see you at dinner,” said Mr. Prescott, his eyes burning through the distance between them, his lips reddening as he licked them.
Cassie shrank into herself, wishing her body invisible beneath his dogged gaze.
Juliana seemed to notice at once. If nothing else, Cassie’s arm tensing under her own would have provided a clue. More than that, though, the Prescott men were notorious and voracious roués. And Cassie… Well, Cassie had little power against him.
“Cassie is tired from her misadventure, Cousin,” Juliana declared. “She will take her meal in her room, and I will do the same to keep her company. We will see you in the morning.”
Juliana tugged at Cassandra’s elbow and the two women disappeared along the corridor, leaving Mr. Prescott behind.
“Wesley can be so tiresome,” tutted Juliana. “But he wouldn’t dare misbehave under Mama’s roof. You are quite safe.”
Cassie did not reply. Her dowry had the unfortunate effect of attracting the sort of men who would otherwise have nothing to do with someone of unclaimed parentage, like herself.
Lady Webb’s insistence that her nephew watch over her ward would only have encouraged him to believe he had his aunt’s blessing to pursue Cassie’s hand.
She shivered.
A recent memory drifted up. She had shivered on the wagon, too, but not with fear or revulsion.
She had been cold, drenched, embarrassed.
Mr. Reid had shaken off his greatcoat and thrown it about her shoulders.
The rain had made short work of soaking the dry clothes his coat had been protecting.
And it would be some time before he returned home to warm, fresh attire.
Yet he had offered her this kindness. Without discussion.
Without fanfare. As if it were perfectly normal to sacrifice his comfort for another’s.
She did not know him. Nor would she be likely to see him again. But the thought of him soothed Cassie, helped her uncurl from the internal cowering that Mr. Prescott had induced within her.
Soon she was laughing again. The rest of the day offered a hot meal, a warm fire, and the company of an excellent friend. It was enough. And Cassie had learned to appreciate enough.