Chapter Ten #4
She glanced remorsefully at her large stomach.
“I’d hardly call myself little. Even before I started increasing, as ladies of the ton refer to their pregnancies, I was too plump.
” She spoke with humor that Roland found unexpectedly attractive.
She took the reins, tugged at the stirrups and examined the saddle. “I’ll manage.”
Queen Mab had taken a liking to the young woman who talked so gently to her and whose touch was so sure.
She allowed Gwendolyn to lead her to a low rock that could be used as a mounting step.
She had to pull her dress up to her knees and Roland was treated to a glimpse of her thighs as she settled into the saddle.
The pain in his foot did not stop his cock from reacting to the luscious vision of soft, firm white flesh she revealed as she mounted the horse.
He breathed deeply and tried to think about Miss Benson and her father’s cow pastures.
Gwendolyn Burroughs deserved better than a man whose lust was stimulated by such a brief glimpse of the private parts of her body.
But as she rode away, he knew his interest in her went beyond her physical beauty.
He was fascinated by the various aspects of her, the kindness he had seen in the way she treated the Ewbanks children, the determination with which she learned new skills to survive her new life, the sense of humor she conveyed when faced with difficulties and her intelligence and compassion when she asked him about the improvements he was making in this community.
*
Mrs. Ewbanks eyed Gwendolyn contemplatively. “You’ve been to High Fell Manor three times this week already. I don’t know if you’ve heard that Lord Montgomery is planning to marry Miss Benson. He often talks about what he would do if he had the running of her father’s estate.”
Mariana wrinkled her nose, answering quickly when she saw Gwendolyn’s face draw up into a pout. “That doesn’t sound like a very romantic reason to marry anyone.”
Mrs. Ewbanks’s eyebrow shot up and she waved her flour-covered hands around the kitchen.
“Marriage is about hard work, commitment, and support. Love and romance are stuff and nonsense that fill girls’ heads with fancy notions.
” She forebore to mention that Gwendolyn’s situation should be warning enough to both of the girls that romantic ideas led to disaster.
“Miss Benson hasn’t shown any care for Lord Montgomery’s current situation,” Gwendolyn pointed out. “She hasn’t visited him even once since his fall.”
Mrs. Ewbanks’s lips tightened into a straight line. “She is likely more aware that a young lady does not usually visit the house of a gentleman.” As Gwendolyn’s lips pursed, the farmer’s wife quickly added, “Even if she is accompanied by her cousin as a chaperone.”
Gwendolyn twisted her bonnet strings in her fingers.
“Do you think it is wrong of us to visit High Fell Manor? Lord Montgomery says we are welcome and that our company lightens the tedium of his convalescence. Besides,” she continued almost as if she were trying to convince herself of the truth of her next words, “he isn’t exactly the kind of man I ever imagined marrying. ”
Mrs. Ewbanks breathed in a deep sigh. “No, it isn’t wrong, especially as his lordship has invited you to keep him company. He is a gentleman of impeccable morals and will not do anything that will damage any lady in any way.”
Gwendolyn looked down at her work-roughened hands. “I’m not quite the lady I was before.”
Mrs. Ewbanks scoffed affectionately. “You’ll always be a lady, even if the edges have been rubbed off you a bit.”
“We’ll pick some blackberries on the way back,” Gwendolyn said with an air of reconciliation.
Mrs. Ewbanks smiled. “Off with you, then.”
*
Gwendolyn and Mariana chatted cheerfully for the twenty minutes it took to walk to the manor house.
Crisp autumn winds blew red and yellow leaves to the ground and swallows gathered in the skies as they prepared for their long flight south for the winter months.
Gwendolyn shivered. “I think the winter here is going to be very cold.”
When they arrived at the house, they found the front door wide open. The butler was crossing the hallway and stopped, eyeing them with an imperturbable air. “Good afternoon, ladies. May I help you?”
Gwendolyn flashed him her most charming smile and held up the basket she was carrying. “We have brought Lord Montgomery some of Mrs. Ewbanks’ fruit cake.”
The butler sniffed. “His lordship has an excellent cook who makes all the foods he requires.”
But he led the girls across the wood floor of the large entrance hall and along a side corridor to the library, where Roland spent most of his days.
Truth be told, his lordship had been rather tetchy since his accident but he perked up when the young ladies visited.
Whitcombe had quickly overcome his prejudice against Miss Burroughs, although he did make sure that the housekeeper, Mrs. Knightly, kept the impressionable housemaids away from the poor moral example of an unmarried pregnant woman.
Lord Montgomery was stretched out on a deep blue brocade chaise lounge, his ankle supported by a large feather pillow.
A plaid rug had been thrown over his knees but he had pushed it aside, declaring that he was too warm.
A large fire burned steadily in the hearth and a footman stood just inside the room, ready to keep it built up or fetch and carry anything the baron needed.
Roland placed a bookmark into the book he had been reading and held out a hand. “Miss Burroughs, Miss Winterton. I am glad to see you. It has been deadly dull here.”
“We’ll cheer you up in no time,” Gwendolyn promised. “Here’s some fruit cake that Mrs. Ewbanks made for you. I think she also sent some of her blackberry wine.”
“Thank you, and I know you will convey my thanks to her. Whitcombe will take the basket to the kitchen and cook can prepare refreshments for us.”
The butler stepped forward and took the basket from Gwendolyn, his face impassive but the stiff set of his shoulders conveyed his disapproval that anyone could imagine the baron might not have resources enough at his disposal.
Gwendolyn sat down on a comfortable chair next to the chaise lounge and picked up the book he had been reading. She wrinkled her nose as she sounded out the title. “Philosophie zoologique. That’s French. Isn’t it treasonous to read books by the enemy?”
Roland laughed and began to explain something of Lamarck’s philosophy to her.
Before long, they were heatedly debating whether animals could develop specific characteristics depending on their environment and their parents, and how that could improve the breeding of the cattle and sheep on the farms.
Mariana watched them for a moment and then wandered to a shelf where she had discovered a treasure trove of books by Walter Scott and other writers of fiction that fueled her dreams and helped her escape into a wild world of adventure and Highland heroes.
After the first two or three visits here, she had decided that Roland and Gwendolyn were eminently suitable and that it was best to let whatever feelings were between them develop without interference or observation.
Roland and Gwendolyn’s conversation veered from cows and sheep to poetry and politics.
Roland, when he took a moment to think about it, was amazed that he enjoyed such a vigorous debate with Gwendolyn.
She had a quick mind and grasped ideas easily, not afraid to disagree with him on issues, so different from other ladies in whose company he had passed time.
The last time he had dined with Benson, Agatha had complacently listened when he and her father had discussed the war against Napoleon, and when asked her opinion, had said that such matters were beyond the realm of women’s knowledge and best left to men to settle.
The doctor called in to see how Roland was doing, and Gwendolyn moved over to a table where she took out the baby dress and worked on the tiny flowers she was embroidering around the hem.
The doctor didn’t stay long, but Roland was aware of the judgmental look he cast at Gwendolyn when he left.
Roland shifted on the chaise lounge, pushing himself into a less recumbent position from which he could better observe Gwendolyn.
The winter sunlight fell on her, as if a halo was shining on her head, and yet she was not an angel.
She would engender censure wherever she went where people knew her story.
Memories were long and there would always be whispers and insinuations, and he, Baron Montgomery, had always prided himself on having an impeccable reputation.
No matter how attracted he was to Gwendolyn Burroughs, his moral sensibility and care for his centuries-old family name prohibited him from following his heart.
He could not marry a woman who had so blatantly defied the conventions of society and who would always have whispers following her.
He sighed as he picked up his book and turned to the page he was reading.
The room was silent but he couldn’t concentrate.
He didn’t think Gwendolyn viewed him as more than a distraction and a link to her past life, but it would probably be best if he discouraged her from visiting him here in his home with no chaperone except her cousin.
But when Whitcombe brought in a collation of ham, cold roast beef, and dried fruits along with slices of Mrs. Ewbanks’s fruit cake, Gwendolyn seated herself next to his chaise lounge again, and he thought how impossible it would be to forbid her to return.
She was a little more subdued when she poured him a cup of tea and handed it to him without looking directly into his eyes. Had she noticed the barely disguised disapproval of the doctor?
Mariana had also changed seats to partake of the refreshments, and she introduced two or three topics of conversation in a desperate attempt to lighten the heaviness that the doctor’s presence had left in the room.
But each idea she raised was met with vague answers and soon fizzled out into silence.
When the girls had politely eaten half a scone each and finished their cups of tea, Gwendolyn stood up.
“Gracious, is that the time already?” There was a false brightness in her voice but Roland caught a glimpse of the hurt and humiliation in her eyes.
“Mariana, we ought to be getting back. We promised Mrs. Ewbanks we’d look after the little ones while she makes bread. ”
Mariana looked at her oddly but put down her cup and nodded. “We have been here far longer than the polite thirty-minute social call people in London usually make.”
Roland tried to stand but his foot was still unable to bear the fullness of his weight and the stick he used to hobble around the room was out of his reach.
He smiled but his eyes remained somber. He answered Mariana but he looked at Gwendolyn as he did so.
“Do come back soon. I enjoy our conversations. They provide a very pleasant way of passing the time while I am confined to this couch.”
Gwendolyn nodded briefly but still refused to look directly at him, as if by doing so she could hide herself from him.
But Roland was not to be denied. He held out his hand and Gwendolyn had to turn to him as she shook it. His smile had an edge of triumph. “Until next time.”