Chapter Twelve
Harry could not deny that he liked Melissa Madeley, but not in the sort of way her mother wanted.
She was correct about him being too old for her.
Not in age, perhaps, but in experience. His years spent as a military surgeon had aged him spiritually, and he was wise enough to recognize it.
She was a sweetly innocent young lady, if a little outspoken, who, if she ever changed her mind about marriage, would require a young man of similar sweet innocence, and preferably one who liked horses as much as she did.
“My particular horse is called Apollo,” she confided, as they walked across the lawns towards the walled garden.
“I’ve had him since I was fourteen. Papa quite understood my need for a good horse, although he flatly refused to allow me to follow hounds.
He said it wasn’t ladylike and that few ladies ride to hounds.
I’m sure that will change one day, and, of course, now Papa is gone, I might easily persuade Mama to allow me to go.
” She laughed, a joyous sound that almost made Harry want to join in.
“Apollo is fifteen and a half hands and the most beautiful dapple gray. Of course, he’ll lose the dapples eventually and go white and then after that get fleabites.
I have to say that my least favorite horse color is flea-bitten gray or roan.
Not attractive at all. What is your favorite horse color? ”
Harry had never owned a horse, having been brought up in a town and then been part of an infantry regiment. He shrugged. “I like a nice bright bay.”
“Then you will love Mama’s horse. He’s a little taller than Apollo and the loveliest bay you could ever find, although right now, of course, he’s losing his shine a little with the start of his winter coat coming. As are all our horses.”
He was finding the conversation about horses a little uninteresting. If he had been nursing a fancy for this young lady, her incessant talk of horses could well have put him off.
“My papa’s horse is left in your stables,” Melissa said. “Why don’t you ride him over to visit us at the farm? His name is Lochinvar. One of us could show you some of the glorious rides there are around here. I know Megs would be more than happy to do that.”
Harry indicated his leg. “I’m not sure how my leg would stand up to a long ride.”
She wrinkled her nose. “What exactly is wrong with it?”
He sighed. “Shrapnel, if you know what that is.”
She shook her head.
“When a shrapnel shell, which is sometimes called spherical case ammunition, explodes, it can break into many small sharp pieces that fly around and cause all sorts of havoc. Many men can be injured by one shell in this way, causing maximum damage to the enemy.” To his surprise, he didn’t find it as difficult telling her this as he’d expected.
She nodded. “I see. So you were hit by some of this shrapnel?”
His turn to nod. “I was. It caught my right leg and my back, which probably saved my life. Had I been facing the explosion I would have taken the blast face on.” He paused, unsure whether to give her further details, but as he’d only ever told Hester about this, it felt a little like unburdening himself.
So he kept going. She was surprisingly easy to talk to.
“Shrapnel is hard to remove and damages muscles. The surgeon in the field station on the battlefield removed most of it, but some were too deep for him to get at without risking permanent damage or my death. I suppose if you were to have a powerful enough magnet, you might find me attached to it.” And for the first time since his injury he found himself smiling about it.
She dimpled at him. “But you are recovering now. So you could try to ride Lochinvar, could you not? To please my sisters and me.”
Why did he suspect there was something behind this invitation? If she hadn’t already admitted she had no romantic interest in him, he might have thought that the reason for her invitation. He’d have to think about this later. “I suppose I could.”
They wandered in the direction of the house and, as they did so, Crawford emerged, his brow creased with concern.
He sketched a hurried bow to both of them.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, Sir Henry, but I’ve been informed her ladyship has become indisposed.
Sir Julian, as he was departing, told me she has a megrim. I felt I ought to inform you.”
Harry nodded. He wasn’t at all sure what a megrim was, as none of his sisters, and certainly none of his soldiers, had ever claimed to suffer from one.
He had an uncomfortable feeling it might be something only ladies complained about.
“Thank you, Crawford. Perhaps you could inquire if she needs anything.”
Crawford bowed and hurried away.
Melissa had the good sense to wait until he was out of earshot. “Mama is ill? That’s so unlike her.”
Was that her eyes narrowing?
It must have been. “I think perhaps you should take her home in your carriage,” she said, now gazing at him out of limpid blue eyes that appeared to be totally guileless, but probably weren’t. “To save her having to walk that far with a bad head.”
Ah, so it was another word for a headache. He knew all about those as he sometimes had bad ones that lasted hours. Thanks to his injuries. He wasn’t about to start calling them megrims though.
However, that sounded a good idea. The suspicion that she wasn’t ill at all persisted, but alongside it rose the feeling that it would be more than pleasant to pretend she was and needed his assistance. So he nodded. “We’d best go in and see her ourselves.”
Melissa shook her head with what he could only call steely determination.
“No, I think I’ll walk home and tell Betsey to prepare the tisane Mama usually takes for her megrims. Then if you let her rest a short while longer before you order your carriage, the tisane will be ready by the time she gets home.
” She paused and once again her eyes narrowed.
She would not make a good card player. “Only her particular tisane will help her and it takes time to brew, so there’s no hurry. ”
That she was now lying, he was certain. His experience with lying soldiers stood him in good stead. But he played along. “Of course. I won’t keep you. I’ll tell your mother you’ve gone home ahead of her.”
She gave him a sunny smile and took herself off, almost skipping, he noted, down the drive.
He found Miranda still in the parlor, seated on the settee with her eyes closed.
He coughed.
She opened her eyes and peered up at him.
Was that relief on her face? Had she thought the opening of the parlor door might herald the return of Sir Julian?
She hadn’t looked too happy to be in that gentleman’s company.
He suppressed a smile. This was all turning out to be rather amusing.
And amused was not something he’d been for such a long time. Too long.
“I gather you are unwell, Lady Madeley. Your daughter insisted on returning home to prepare you your usual tisane, and requested that I should take you home in my carriage. I’ve asked the young groom, I think Archie is his name, to ready the horses to be harnessed to a carriage in a short while.
Miss Madeley informed me that your tisane needs time to brew.
” He allowed the smile to emerge. “I’ve no idea what sort of carriages reside in the carriage house but I assume there is something suitable to convey an invalid back to her home. ”
A little frown marred Lady Madeley’s alabaster brow.
“There’s no need to trouble yourself,” she said.
“I feel much restored already.” She gave him her sweet smile.
“I fear it was having to converse with Sir Julian that caused my headache. I’m quite capable of walking home by myself.
And you need not worry about my safety as this is a part of the country with practically no crime. ”
“Nonsense,” Harry said, determined to play her at her own game, which he was certain it was.
Or maybe it was Melissa’s game too. “Even if you feel well now, it would be foolish to risk you falling ill again on the walk back. I couldn’t possibly allow that.
If you don’t wish for the carriage, then please allow me to escort you home on foot. ”
Just like her daughter, her eyes narrowed.
How alike they were, especially in their inability to hide when they were plotting, and yet, how much more appealing the mother was than the daughter.
“Thank you,” she said. No doubt she was busy thinking that if he escorted her home, he would be within Melissa’s orbit again.
However, for the first time in many years, Harry began to feel as though he was having fun.
He extended his hand and, after a moment of hesitation, she took it and stood up.
She was nearly a foot shorter than he was.
Shorter than her daughter, but with the same fine-boned elegance.
A delicate little thing. The urge to make sure she was not just escorted home but also kept safe from the predatory advances of the likes of Sir Julian hit Harry in an unexpectedly violent wave.
He almost staggered under its onslaught. Why on earth was he feeling like that?
She smiled up at him. “It is most kind of you to offer your services as guard dog.”
He had the sensation that this rather bland and sweet exterior hid a very different personality beneath the veneer of respectability and politeness. A personality he very much wanted to encounter.
“Not at all. It will be my pleasure.” He collected his cane from where he’d leaned it beside the fireplace. With all this walking, he was going to need it.
When he held out his arm, she tucked her small hand into the crook, where, to his surprise, he found it felt as though it was meant to be.
Once outside, he moderated his stride to suit hers as they set off down the drive.
“How did you find the gardens?” she asked.
“Very beautiful even this late in the year.”
“My husband had a professional garden designer come down and lay them out just after we were married. Stan and Dick only have to maintain them, although it was my pleasure to add various plants and trees each year.”
“They do it very well.” He glanced down at her. “Although, sadly, Miss Madeley didn’t appear to know as much about the plants themselves as you thought she would.”
She met his gaze. “Perhaps she was overcome by the company.”
“I doubt that very much. She expressed a strong wish to quit my company and return to your farm and her sisters and her horses. She’s very fond of her horses.”
A frown appeared, which only served to make her prettier.
“I’m afraid this is something all my girls have inherited from me.
I was an only daughter, you see, and my father was most taken up with his horses so expected me to be as well.
I obliged and have a lifelong love of the animals.
A love I passed on to my children. You must forgive dear Melissa for communicating that love. ”
He nodded, trying to picture her as a child Megs’ age riding with the faceless figure of an older man who must be her father.
“A not unreasonable love. It’s good for a child to have an interest in the out of doors when they live in such a beautiful place as this.
And, after all, horses are useful for travel. ”
She chuckled. “How very mundane. Of course they are, but my girls’ love of them is deeper even than my own.
They do not see horses as a means to an end, but as the objects of their love.
” She paused. “Although of course, when they meet the gentlemen who can capture their hearts, I’m sure horses will take second place. ”
How blue her eyes were. Even bluer than Melissa’s, and how long and thick her eyelashes. Unlike the insipidly colored Sir Julian, hers were dark despite the fairness of her hair. He swallowed. “And did your horses take second place for you once you were married to my cousin?”
For a moment she appeared flustered. More flustered than he was feeling. “I was lucky enough to encounter a gentleman who was willing to indulge my love for horses.”
“But did you love him better than them?” He wasn’t quite sure why he was pushing her so hard on this, but it felt important.
Color stole up her cheeks and he found his heart was doing some strange kind of acrobatics. She licked her lips. “That is not a question I feel I should ever answer.”
So no, she hadn’t loved him better than her horses.
Interesting. But then, Sir Geoffrey had been so much older than she was.
What sort of a relationship would they have had—a girl of eighteen and a man of forty-one?
The same sort she envisaged for him and Melissa, for he might only be thirty-two, but inside he felt like an old man.
Not even the fleeting enjoyment of watching the machinations of a would-be matchmaking mama and the attempts of her daughter to escape those efforts could make him feel young again.
No, the war, and especially Waterloo, had stopped that for him.
“Then don’t,” he said. “But answer another for me instead.”
“Very well.” But her eyes were wary.
“I would like to take a tour of the estate tomorrow. On horseback. And I would like someone to show me around.”
“Melissa…” she began, but he interrupted her.
“No. I would like to be shown around by someone who knows it well. I can hardly ask Crawford, now can I? I’m not sure he’d be pleased at having to climb onto a horse at his age. I don’t even know if he can ride.”
She chuckled. “I don’t think he can.”
“So you see, as there is no estate manager to perform this task, the next best thing must be the previous lady of the manor. You.”
“Well…”
“Please say yes. I need your expertise. I need to meet my tenants in the company of someone who knows them.”
“You do know we are living in what used to be one of the tenant farms?”
“I do.”
“You must know that my husband left it to us…to me…to live in until I marry again.” She paused. “Something I assure you I have no intention of doing. So it is unlikely to revert to you in my lifetime. I am what you might call a sitting tenant, and one that pays you no rent.”
“Immaterial.”
She frowned. “I don’t like to be beholden.”
“Then don’t be. In payment, I require your services as a guide and mentor. For some time to come.”
She must be fighting her desire to persuade him to take Melissa as his guide, but clearly she could think of no excuse. Or perhaps she found she liked his company. He could only hope that was the truth of it.
She smiled up at him. “Then it is a deal. I will help you.”
It was a start.