Chapter 9 #2
“Well, I am not entirely progressive,” the Viscount said, taking her hand and kissing it.
“We came in search of you, hoping that you might chaperone our walk around the property.” Seeing her raised eyebrows he added with a laugh, “For business reasons, Mrs. Hollis. It is important that I am seen walking the estate as often as possible.”
“I could do with some fresh air,” Mrs. Hollis said, hurrying for her coat.
When she had gone, Rosalind tilted her head to the side and said with mild scolding, “A chaperoned walk, my lord? She will tease me about that all day tomorrow.”
“My apologies,” he said, bowing slightly. “I did not mean to make you blush.”
“I am not…” she began, putting a hand to her warm cheek.
“You were not before, but now you are,” he said, coming close and examining her with a searching glance before saying quietly, “which is very interesting, I must say.”
Rosalind hated the way her heart ran away from her when he stood this close.
She forced herself to look up at him as casually as she could manage—as though she was perfectly at ease with tall and handsome viscounts peering down at her from close proximity. When did I start thinking of him as handsome? She thought, her heart giving way to pattering again.
He smiled and pulled away as Mrs. Hollis sailed back into the room, putting his hat back upon his head before leading both ladies out into the gardens, and beyond that the orchards on the outset of their walk.
It was a beautiful day, truly. The overcast sky gave way to a warmth of sunshine, the wind barely moved the trees, and the orchards seemed alive with every living thing. White flowers were just beginning to open up before them—it was a wonderland all of its own.
Rosalind noticed that Mrs. Hollis dropped back further and further as she walked.
She looked back a few times to wave her friend forward and show that she wanted the other woman included in their conversation, but each time Mrs. Hollis shook her head dismissively and grinned with a knowing expression that told Rosalind she would have much explaining to do after their guest left.
“Father always wanted to take some of these trees and plant them on the other side of the property,” Rosalind said. “He talked about the pollination necessity… and it is a preventative measure to spread out your orchards.”
“That way if blight strikes one copse, the other trees are safe,” Adrian said, nodding. “Wise.”
“Exactly!” Rosalind said, laughing. “Are you an expert in trees now as well?”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “But my brother was. He was careful to manage our woods well, and always wanted apple trees on our estate.”
Rosalind winced as a shaft of sunlight hit her eyes. She loved the sun, but sometimes it seemed like a weapon levelled against her head. “Your brother,” she said, trying to distract herself. “I know he died some years ago. I am sorry for that—I do not remember ever meeting him.”
“He was a worthy man,” Adrian said. “More worthy than I. He knew that he was to inherit the estate, and he worked hard to make something of himself. He wanted to learn all the skills necessary to govern his little slice of the world in fairness. It is a pity he died—I squandered my younger years and am now trying to catch up with the information I lacked.”
“Military service is not squandered,” Rosalind said quietly.
“It can be,” he corrected her. “But that is not the thing of which I was speaking. I know you are enough of a woman of the world, Miss Thorne, to have heard the reputation I had before…”
“Becoming a recluse?” she offered innocently, holding back a smile.
“You are very frank,” he said, laughing. “And ‘recluse’ is too strong a word. But yes, before I retreated from the public eye. I fear I wasted too much time on things that did not matter. I am trying to set that to rights now.”
She closed her eyes briefly, trying to spare herself the sun’s bright rays. “How is Honoria doing in London this season?” she asked.
“I wish you would not do that.” He reached out and took her arm, catching her before she stepped into a deep puddle.
She looked down, startled. It had come up in the road while her eyes were closed. “Do what?” she asked, pulling away quickly before he could see the blush his touch initiated.
“Pretend your head is not hurting by asking me personal questions,” he said, his gaze searching her face.
She lowered her eyes. “I do not know what you mean—”
“You suffer from chronic pain,” he said. “I guess in your head, by the way the light seems to hurt you. I have seen it on each of our meetings.”
“You are frustratingly observant,” she said, sighing. “Yes, although that is another secret you should keep to yourself. It will only make me look like an invalid in the eyes of the county, and I need to appear strong these days.”
“How long have you endured this pain?” he asked, as they walked on.
“Since my father’s death. Only Dr. and Mrs. Ashcombe know. And Mrs. Hollis, of course.”
“It is likely the strain you are under,” he said quietly.
She smiled, but said nothing. She knew he was right, but what was there to do about it?
She continued walking at his side, almost touching, but not quite, and let herself, for a moment, relax.
For just a moment, she had nothing to prove to anyone.
She could simply walk in the beauty of the orchards with a man she was coming to admire more and more, and let the world’s requirements slip effortlessly away.