Chapter 8
“Good morning, Lord Marwood.”
He turned in surprise to find Rosalind seated sidesaddle on a rich chestnut mare, garbed in a deep maroon riding jacket and skirt. She sat ramrod straight, her hands holding the reins with light confidence.
Adrian had been out for an early morning ride himself, and was now back brushing down his horse in the paddock outside the stables. The sun was only just peaking over the horizon, and he could not help noticing the way it set her hair aflame.
“A bit early for a ride, Miss Thorne,” he said, raising an eyebrow.
As seemed to be her wont, she looked past him and changed the subject without acknowledging his comment at all. “Is it not unusual for a viscount to brush down his own horse? I know you are in possession of at least two qualified grooms.”
“Thunder and I have a special bond,” Adrian admitted with a smile. “And beyond that, I think it keeps a man humble to care for the animal he rides.”
She did not smile, but he thought he caught a glimmer of appreciation in her blue eyes.
“I was actually hoping you might spare me a minute for a conversation,” she said, swinging her leg free of the pummel and jumping gracefully to the ground, her skirts a whirl around her.
“Certainly.” He moved to set the horse brush aside.
“No, do not stop on my account.” She strode quickly over to the gate and opened it without asking his permission, joining him in the paddock. “I would not wish to deny you any of the humility that caring for Thunder might provide. You so clearly need it,” she added with a vestige of a smile.
He laughed. “Very well, if you are comfortable to have your conversation whilst I brush Thunder down, you may proceed. I notice that you are without Mrs. Hollis today—brave of you, to venture a visit without a chaperone.”
“We are out of doors, and you have grooms nearby I am certain,” she said coolly. “If you are implying anything untoward…”
He shook his head, wanting to set her at ease. “I am implying nothing. You had business about which you wished to speak?”
She cleared her throat and stepped away from the fence, coming around so that he could see her as she talked. He noticed how careful she was to stay in sight of Thunder, and to move slowly and with purpose.
“It is a bit of an odd situation, actually.” For the first time, he saw a nervous strain in her body.
Her fingers twisted together as if they were helping her find the right words.
“I went back and forth in my own mind, on the ride over, about what details were necessary, and in the end I feel I must be entirely truthful. I am going to tell you a story, and at the end of it I am going to ask you a favor. I will not come begging with a half-truth and enlist your help under false pretenses.”
He rubbed down Thunder’s flanks in long, gentle movements. “I appreciate that.”
Rosalind swallowed hard. “I have a stepbrother, Mr. Edmund Crewe, who visited my house yesterday with a will that he claims is authentic—a will apparently by my father the month before his death, stating that Mr. Crewe is in charge of the estate until my brother’s majority.”
She drew a shaky breath. “You do not have to believe me in this next matter, but I must be clear with you that I do not believe my father respected Mr. Crewe enough to extend him this power and responsibility. He would never have entrusted Harry’s inheritance to someone so… unreliable.”
“I believe you,” Adrian acknowledged, setting aside the brush and rubbing the horse down. “You knew your father well, I presume.”
She nodded, and he thought he saw a shine of tears in her eyes.
“The problem is, the will—even if a forgery—is cause for a court investigation. Mr. Crewe has given me an ultimatum. If I do not cede control, he will bring the matter into legal consideration. This will be expensive, and my position as a female landowner will not serve me well in a court of law.”
Adrian’s jaw moved in annoyance. She was right.
It was unjust, but she was right. The court would not look well on her testimony.
“Still,” he said, leading Thunder to a nearby water trough and then returning to Rosalind and dusting his hands together, “you have a chance, if you keep your nose clean and if you are endorsed by gentlemen of good standing.”
“The latter is why I came to you,” she said, “but the former is the half-truth I am choosing to avoid today. I am not, in the eyes of society, entirely ‘above board.’”
“How so?” he asked, frowning. He could imagine many things about this woman—that she was a ferocious defender of her beliefs, that she had gotten into an argument with the wrong person, perhaps—but he could not imagine her doing anything truly scandalous.
She took a deep breath. “I run a school,” she said quietly. “From inside my house. We meet once a week—sometimes twice, if the subject requires it. There are six girls from the village who come, all impoverished, all considered unworthy of education.”
She cleared her throat. “Before you say this is acceptable in a trade school setting, I must be forthright and tell you that we are teaching reading and arithmetic, as well as history and the sciences. We even did a spot on the properties of soil last summer.”
“Aha.” He was, for the moment, speechless. It took courage to do such a thing.
“The school would, of course, be considered improper,” she went on slowly.
“I am fearful that Mr. Crewe, if he discovers the truth, will use the school against me. I know that I risk your good opinion in telling you about it as well, but I cannot ask for your help behind a concealment, and if the knowing changes your answer, I shall take my leave now and we shall never speak of it again.”
She hesitated and then added, “And I hope that even in your disapproval you will refrain from speaking of this confession in the village, lest the girls involved be ridiculed.”
He looked at her for a long moment in silence, his mind set aflame by what she had said.
This is a woman unlike any other I have met, he thought, thinking of the danger she was undertaking.
He was struck yet again by how fragile she looked in person, while in reality she was a force to be reckoned with.
“Knowing the truth of the story does indeed change my answer,” he said slowly, “but not as you fear.”
He opened the gate and showed her through, out of the paddock, latching the gate behind him before turning to explain fully.
“I would like to tell you a story about your father, Miss Thorne, if you can spare me a moment of your time.” Seeing her confusion, he added, “I assure you it is relevant to the subject at hand.”
“Go on, then,” she said.
“I went to a village meeting once, with my own father, when I was a young and hot-headed man—perhaps sixteen years of age.” Adrian could remember it now as though the scene was unfolding in real time before him.
“The tenants were at the meeting arguing about a drainage problem that was directly affecting them. I know the area, and I know the problem—it was not impacting your father’s fields or flocks.
His wealth would be intact… It only impacted the quality of life for the people in his care. ”
Adrian smiled despite himself at the memory.
“He stood shoulder to shoulder with them and argued the matter in the face of great opposition from his peers, facing off against the establishment until they agreed to give the tenants what they needed. I believe he had to wager part of his own property to bring about the required change.”
Rosalind watched him with fixed attention as he spoke, wonder on her face. “He never told me about that.”
“I do not imagine he would. Mr. Thorne was a man of great dignity and humility,” Adrian said, smiling at the memory.
“I suppose he brushed down a good many horses at the end of a day’s ride,” she said with a small laugh.
She took his breath away when she smiled. He wondered if she knew the effect it had.
“All I am saying,” he went on, “is that your father would be proud of this school you are running—I am certain of it. I understand the risks that you are taking, but the existence of the school does not discourage my assistance. On the contrary, it assures me of your character—a character I am happy to defend in a court of law.”
Relief flooded her face. “Thank you, my lord. I confess I was unsure how you would respond.”
“I am being uncharacteristically gracious, you mean?” he laughed.
She shrugged. “I have not been able to make your character out fully, my lord—I would not know if generosity is uncharacteristic of your past self.”
“Well, it is.” He cleared his throat. “I can be rather unpleasant, Miss Thorne. And society would tell you I am a gentleman to be avoided at all costs.”
A smile tugged at her lips. She walked over to her horse, and pulled herself up and into the saddle before he could offer his assistance. “Thank you for your time today, my lord.”
He walked over to her horse. “I will vouch for you in court, if it comes to that, but I would like permission to write to my London solicitor tonight as well. I will stand behind the trustees of your father’s estate as a neighbor, and a man of good standing in the community.
You will not have to face Mr. Crewe alone. ”
He reached out and held her horse’s bridle, steadying the animal as he talked. She watched him with her unwavering blue eyes, and he could see that the gratefulness there was still tinged with caution—as though she was taking the measure of him as he spoke.
He was suddenly aware of her leg, arched gracefully over the pummel, and how close his hand was to her boot. Those few inches seemed to burn his skin, and he released the bridle, stepping away from the horse’s head with purpose.
“Lord Marwood,” she said carefully, “you speak of society as though it has shunned you, but are you certain that is the case? From where I sit, it looks more as if you have shunned society.”
“Is that so?” Honoria would agree with her, Adrian knew.
She shrugged. “It is nothing to me either way, of course, but I remember, years ago, that you used to be a prized commodity amongst the ton.”
“There are many things about the man I was years ago that should remain in the past,” he said gravely, thinking of his foolishness, his flirtatious manner, and the idealism that had died on the battlefield.
“That is true of us all, I think,” she said kindly. “The trick, in letting go of past flaws, is holding on to the good qualities when we can.” She clicked to her horse and gathered up the reins, turning her mount’s head and making off down the road.
Almost as if unbidden, her name came out of his mouth as he called after her. “Miss Thorne?”
She pulled her horse up and turned around, her hair blowing gently around her face as she looked at him, waiting. What was it I wanted to say?
Adrian realized with a start that he had nothing more he needed to impart—rather, he had just been desperate to be in her presence a moment more. Something was happening to him, something he had never felt with this force or clarity, and something he had not in any way authorized.
He swallowed hard, and forced a smile.
“Good day,” he said simply, bowing and withdrawing.
This time, he did not call out again, or turn around to look at her—though he felt her gaze on his receding back for a long time.