Regency Beauty: Beneath the Major's Scars / Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager

Regency Beauty: Beneath the Major's Scars / Behind the Rake's Wicked Wager Sarah Mallory Beneath the Major’s ScarsWhen a tainted beauty…After being shamelessly seduced by a married man, Zelah Pentewan’s reputation is in tatters. Determined to rise above the gossip-mongers, Zelah knows she must rely on no one but herself.Meets a formidable beast!But her independence takes a knock when a terrifying stranger must come to her aid. Major Dominic Coale’s formidable manner is notorious, but Zelah shows no signs of fear. She doesn’t cower at his touch as she begins to get a glimpse of the man behind the scars….Behind the Rake’s Wicked Wager'So what do you say to the wager, Miss Prentess? A diamond worth thousands against a night with me?'No London beauty has managed to tame the incorrigible Jasper Coale, though many have lost their reputations trying. In sedate Bath on a family errand, the viscount expects to find little in terms of entertainment – certainly no female company to tempt him…Miss Susannah Prentess’s discreet card parties in Royal Crescent offer a welcome distraction. And the glint in Susannah’s hazel eyes tells Jasper he’s met his match, at last. But is she game enough to accept the most outrageous wager of all? Regency Beauty Beneath the Major’s Scars Sarah Mallory Behind the Rake’s Wicked Wager Sarah Mallory www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk) Table of Contents Cover (#ue6f86b32-af19-5a3e-901c-6c346a9d3306) Title Page (#u7c881cff-fb4a-57cb-b80e-b0b3ed79965d) Beneath the Major’s Scars (#u3a4c6128-3c9d-52f7-bfd4-d842fe5bd52a) Dedication (#u3af4b05e-9f82-55f3-ae4c-a21f9205dd01) About the Author (#uaf59abe4-7288-5772-a7a3-e391aacac994) Prologue (#ulink_c252933b-bb47-51a5-b240-c0be37ef1626) Chapter One (#ulink_93313577-d0ab-5543-afba-5764e50af219) Chapter Two (#ulink_b03c341b-e4ab-5249-bef7-c5ebfcb6aec7) Chapter Three (#ulink_ceed2291-11d2-5139-9ccc-01e863744697) Chapter Four (#ulink_22fc7393-3082-5e26-9cdd-930c575527b4) Chapter Five (#ulink_a9c2de2e-5188-5831-8a7a-89eb27f6c027) Chapter Six (#ulink_53294f3d-1f86-5f89-bac5-c41de7e1831d) Chapter Seven (#ulink_2de9386c-3952-54ee-9f76-834952bb8dda) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo) Behind the Rake’s Wicked Wager (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter One (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Two (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Three (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo) Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo) Copyright (#litres_trial_promo) Beneath the Major’s Scars (#ud5749c51-6b91-5f59-a4b6-a4fe04875b67) For P and S, my own twin heroes. SARAH MALLORY was born in the West Country and now lives on the beautiful Yorkshire moors. She has been writing for more than three decades–mainly historical romances set in the Georgian and Regency period. She has won several awards for her writing, most recently the Romantic Novelists’ Association RoNA Rose Award in 2012 (for The Dangerous Lord Darrington) and 2013 (for Beneath the Major’s Scars). Prologue (#ulink_bb5492fe-b0c9-5e12-b4ea-588a766946f4) Cornwall—1808 The room was very quiet. The screams and cries, the frantic exertions of the past twelve hours were over. The bloodied cloths and the tiny, lifeless body had been removed and the girl lay between clean sheets, only the glow of firelight illuminating the room. Through the window a single star twinkled in the night sky. She did not seek it out, she had no energy for such conscious effort, but it was in her line of vision and it was easier to fix her eyes on that single point of light than to move her head. Her body felt like a dead weight, exhausted by the struggle she had endured. Part of her wondered why she was still alive, when it would be so much better for everyone if she had been allowed to die with her baby. She heard the soft click of the opening door and closed her eyes, not wishing to hear the midwife’s brisk advice or her aunt’s heart-wrenching sympathy. ‘Poor lamb.’ Aunt Wilson’s voice was hardly more than a sigh. ‘Will she survive, do you think?’ ‘Ah, she’ll live, she’s a strong ‘un.’ From beneath her lashes the girl could see the midwife standing at the foot of the bed, wiping her hands on her bloody apron. ‘Although it might be better if she didn’t.’ ‘Ah, don’t say that!’ Aunt Wilson’s voice cracked. ‘She is still God’s creature, even though she has sinned.’ The midwife sniffed. ‘Then the Lord had better look out for her, poor dearie, for her life is proper blighted and that’s for sure. No man will want her to wife now.’ ‘She must find some way to support herself. I cannot keep her indefinitely, and my poor brother and his wife have little enough: the parish of Cardinham is one of the poorest in Cornwall.’ There was a pause, then the midwife said, ‘She ain’t cut out to be a bal maiden.’ ‘To work in the mines? Never! She is too well bred for that.’ ‘Not too well bred to open her legs for a man—’ Aunt Wilson gasped in outrage. ‘You have said quite enough, Mrs Nore. Your work is finished here, I will look after my niece from now on. Come downstairs and I will pay you for your trouble …’ The rustle of skirts, a soft click of the door and silence. She was alone again. It was useless to wish she had died with her baby. She had not, and the future seemed very bleak, nothing but hard work and drudgery. That was her punishment for falling in love. She would face that, and she would survive, but she would never put her trust in any man again. She opened her eyes and looked at that tiny, twinkling orb. ‘You shall be my witness,’ she whispered, her lips painfully dry and her throat aching with the effort. ‘No man shall ever do this to me again.’ Her eyes began to close and she knew now that whenever she saw that star in the evening sky, she would remember the child she had lost. Chapter One (#ulink_5e6c8d5a-7ea8-5080-be80-3b13065e931c) Exmoor—1811 ‘Nicky, Nicky! wait for me—oh!’ Zelah gave a little cry of frustration as her skirts caught on the thorny branches of an encroaching bush. She was obliged to give up her pursuit of her little nephew while she disentangled herself. How she wished now that she had put on her old dimity robe, but she had been expecting to amuse Nicky in the garden, not to be chasing him through the woods; only Nurse had come out to tell them that they must not make too much noise since the mistress was trying to get some sleep before Baby woke again and demanded to be fed. As she carefully eased the primrose muslin off the ensnaring thorns, Zelah pondered on her sister’s determination to feed the new baby herself. She could quite understand it, of course: Reginald’s first wife had died in childbirth and a number of wet nurses had been employed for Nicky, but each one had proved more unreliable than the last so it was a wonder that the little boy had survived at all. The thought of her sister’s stepson made Zelah smile. He had not only survived, but grown into a very lively eight-year-old, who was even now leading her in a merry dance. She had allowed him to take her ‘exploring’ in the wildly neglected woodland on the northern boundary of West Barton and now realised her mistake. Not only was Nicky familiar with the overgrown tracks that led through the woods, he was unhampered by skirts. Free at last, she pulled the folds of muslin close as she set off in search of her nephew. She had only gone a few steps when she heard him cry out, such distress and alarm in his voice that she set off at a run in the direction of his call, all concerns for snagging her gown forgotten. The light through the trees indicated that there was a clearing ahead. She pushed her way through the remaining low tree branches and found herself standing on the lip of a steep slope. The land dropped away to form a natural bowl and the ground between the trees was dotted with early spring flowers, but it was not the beauty of the scene that made Zelah catch her breath, it was the sight of Nicky’s lifeless body stretched out at the very bottom of the dell, a red stain spreading over one leg of his nankeen pantaloons and a menacing figure bending over him. Her first, wild thought was that it was some kind of animal attacking Nicky, but as her vision cleared she realised it was a man. A thick black beard covered his face and his shaggy hair reached to the shoulders of his dark coat. A longhandled axe lay on the ground beside him, its blade glinting wickedly in the spring sunlight. Zelah did not hesitate. She scrambled down the bank. ‘Leave him alone!’ The man straightened. As he turned towards her she saw that beneath the shaggy mane of hair surrounding his face he had an ugly scar cutting through his left eyebrow and cheek. She picked up a stick. ‘Get away from him, you beast!’ ‘Beast, is it?’ he growled. ‘Zelah—’ ‘Don’t worry, Nicky, he won’t hurt you again.’ She kept her gaze fixed on the menacing figure. ‘How dare you attack an innocent boy, you monster!’ ‘Beast, monster—’ His teeth flashed white through the beard as he stepped over the boy and came towards her, his halting, ungainly stride adding to the menace. Zelah raised the stick. With a savage laugh he reached out and twisted the bough effortlessly out of her grasp, then caught her wrists as she launched herself at him. She struggled against his iron grip and her assailant hissed as she kicked his shin. ‘For heaven’s sake, I am not your villain. The boy tripped and fell.’ With a muttered oath he forced her hands down and behind her, so that she found herself pressed against his hard body. The rough wool of his jacket rubbed her cheek and her senses reeled as she breathed in the smell of him. It was not the sour odour of sweat and dirt she was expecting, but a mixture of wool and sandalwood and lemony spices combined with the earthy, masculine scent of the man himself. It was intoxicating. He spoke again, his voice a deep rumble on her skin, for he was still holding her tight against his broad chest. ‘He tripped and fell. Do you understand me?’ He is speaking as if to an imbecile! was Zelah’s first thought, then the meaning of his words registered in her brain and she raised her head to meet his fierce eyes. She stopped struggling. ‘That’s better.’ He released his iron grip but kept his hard eyes fixed upon her. ‘Now, shall we take a look at the boy?’ Zelah stepped away, not sure if she trusted the man enough to turn her back on him, but a groan from Nicky decided it. Everything else was forgotten as she fell to her knees beside him. ‘Oh, love, what have you done?’ She put her hand on his forehead, avoiding the angry red mark on his temple. His skin was very hot and his eyes had a glazed, wild look in them. The man dropped down beside her. ‘We’ve been clearing the land, so there are several ragged tree stumps. He must have caught his leg on one when he tumbled down the bank. It’s a nasty cut, but I don’t think the bone is broken.’ ‘How would you know?’ demanded Zelah, carefully lifting away the torn material and gazing in horror at the bloody mess beneath. ‘My time in the army has given me considerable experience of injuries.’ He untied his neck-cloth. ‘I have sent my keeper to fetch help. I’ll bind up his leg, then we will carry him back to the house on a hurdle.’ ‘Whose house?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘He should be taken to West Barton.’ ‘Pray allow me to know what is best to be done!’ ‘Please do not talk to me as if I were a child,’ she retorted. ‘I am quite capable of making a decision.’ He frowned, making the scar on his forehead even more ragged. He looked positively ferocious, but she refused to be intimidated and met his gaze squarely. He seemed to be struggling to contain his anger and after a moment he raised his hand to point towards a narrow path leading away through the trees. He said curtly, ‘Rooks Tower is half a mile in that direction; West Barton is at least five miles by carriage, maybe two if you go back on the footpath, the way you came.’ Zelah bit her lip. It would be impossible to carry Nicky through the dense undergrowth of the forest without causing him a great deal of pain. The boy stirred and she took his hand. ‘I d-don’t like it, it hurts!’ The plaintive cry tore at her heart. ‘Then it must be Rooks Tower,’ she said. ‘Let us hope your people get here soon.’ ‘They will be here as soon as they can.’ He pulled the muslin cravat from his neck. ‘In the meantime I must stop the bleeding.’ His hard eyes flickered over her. ‘It will mean moving his leg.’ She nodded and squeezed Nicky’s hand. ‘You must be very brave, love, while we bind you up. Can you do that?’ ‘I’ll try, Aunty.’ ‘Your aunt, Nicky? She’s more of an Amazon, I think!’ ‘Well, she is not really my aunt, sir,’ explained Nicky gravely. ‘She is my stepmama’s sister.’ Zelah stared, momentarily diverted. ‘You know each other?’ The man flicked a sardonic look towards her. ‘Of course, do you think I allow strange brats to run wild in my woods? Introduce us, Nicky.’ ‘This is Major Coale.’ The boy’s voice wavered a little and his lip trembled as the major deftly wrapped the neckcloth around his leg. ‘And this, sir, is my aunt, Zelah.’ ‘Celia?’ ‘Zee-lah,’ she corrected him haughtily. ‘Miss Pentewan to you.’ ‘Dear me, Nicholas, you should have warned me that your aunt is a veritable dragon.’ The scar cutting through his eyebrow gave him a permanent frown, but she heard the amusement in his voice. Nicky, clinging to Zelah’s hand and trying hard not to cry, managed a little chuckle. ‘There, all done.’ The major sat back, putting his hand on Nicky’s shoulder. ‘You were very brave, my boy.’ ‘As brave as a soldier, sir?’ ‘Braver. I’ve known men go to pieces over the veriest scratch.’ Zelah stared at the untidy, shaggy-haired figure in front of her. His tone was that of a man used to command, but beneath that faded jacket and all that hair, could he really be a soldier? She realised he was watching her and quickly returned her attention to her nephew. ‘What happened, love? How did you fall?’ ‘I t-tripped at the top of the bank. There’s a lot of loose branches lying around.’ ‘Aye. I’ve left them. Firewood for the villagers,’ explained the major. ‘We have been clearing the undergrowth.’ ‘And about time too,’ she responded. ‘These woods have been seriously neglected.’ ‘My apologies, madam, if they are not to your liking.’ Was he laughing at her? His face—the little she could see that was not covered by hair—was impassive. ‘My criticism is not aimed at you, Major. I believe Rooks Tower was only sold last winter.’ ‘Yes, and I have not had time yet to make all the improvements I would wish.’ ‘You are the owner?’ Zelah could not keep the astonishment out of her voice. Surely this ragged individual could not be rich enough to buy such a property? ‘I am. Appearances can be deceptive, Miss Pentewan.’ She flushed, knowing she deserved the coldness of his response. ‘I beg your pardon, that is, I—I am sure there is a vast amount to be done.’ ‘There is, and one of my first tasks is to improve the road to the house and make it suitable for carriages again. I have men working on it now, but until that is done everything has to come in and out by packhorse.’ ‘Major Coale’s books had to be brought here by pack-pony,’ put in Nicky. ‘Dozens of boxes of them. She likes books,’ he explained to the major, whose right eyebrow had risen in enquiry. ‘We have an extensive library at home,’ added Zelah. ‘And where is that?’ ‘Cornwall.’ ‘I guessed that much from your name. Where in Cornwall?’ A smile tugged at her mouth, but she responded seriously. ‘My father is rector at Cardinham, near Bod-min.’ Zelah looked up as a number of men arrived carrying a willow hurdle. She scrambled to her feet and stepped back. The major handed his axe to one of the men before directing the delicate operation of lifting Nicky on to the hurdle. When they were ready to move off she fell into step beside the major, aware of his ungainly, limping stride as they followed the hurdle and its precious burden through the woods. ‘I can see you have some experience of command, Major.’ ‘I was several years in the army.’ Zelah glanced at him. He had been careful to keep to the left of the path so only the right side of his face was visible to her. Whether he was protecting her sensibilities or his own she did not know. ‘And now you plan to settle at Rooks Tower?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘It is a little isolated,’ she remarked. ‘Even more so than West Barton.’ ‘That is why I bought it. I have no wish for company.’ Zelah lapsed into silence. His curt tone made the meaning of his words quite clear. He might as well have said I have no wish for conversation. Very well, she had no desire to intrude upon his privacy. She would not speak again unless it was absolutely necessary. Finally they emerged from the trees and Zelah had her first glimpse of Rooks Tower. There was a great sweep of lawn at the front of the house, enclosed by a weed-strewn drive. At the far side of the lawn stood a small orangery, but years of neglect had dulled the white lime-wash and many of its windows were broken. Zelah turned away from this forlorn object to study the main house. At its centre was an ancient stone building with an imposing arched entrance, but it had obviously been extended over the centuries and two brick-and-stone wings had been added. Everything was arranged over two floors save for a square stone tower on the south-eastern corner that soared above the main buildings. ‘Monstrosity, isn’t it?’ drawled the major. ‘The house was remodelled in Tudor times, when the owner added the tower that gives the house its name, so that his guests could watch the hunt. It has a viewing platform on the roof, but we never use it now.’ She looked again at the house. There had been many alterations over the years, but it retained its leaded lights and stone mullions. Rooks Tower fell short of the current fashion for order and symmetry, but its very awkwardness held a certain charm. ‘The views from the tower must be magnificent.’ She cast an anxious look at him. ‘You will not change it?’ He gave a savage laugh. ‘Of course not. It is as deformed as I!’ She heard the bitterness in his tone, but could not think of a suitable response. The path had widened and she moved forwards to walk beside Nicky, reaching out to take his hand. It was hot and clammy. Zelah hid her dismay beneath a reassuring smile. ‘Nearly there, love. We shall soon make you more comfortable.’ The major strode on ahead, his lameness barely noticeable as he led the way into the great hall where an iron-haired woman in a black-stuff gown was waiting for them. She bobbed a curtsy. ‘I have prepared the yellow room for the young master, sir, and popped a warm brick between the sheets.’ ‘Thank you, Mrs Graddon.’ He did not break his stride as he answered her, crossing the hall and taking the stairs two at a time, only pausing to turn on the half-landing. ‘This way, but be careful not to tilt the litter!’ Dominic waited only to see the boy laid on the bed that had been prepared for him before striding off to his own apartments to change out of his working clothes. It was a damnable nuisance, having strangers in the house, but the boy was hurt, what else could he do? He did not object to having Nicky in the house. He was fond of the boy and would do all he could to help him, but it would mean having doctors and servants running to and fro. He could leave everything to Graddon and his wife, of course, and the aunt would look after the boy until Buckland could send someone. The thought of Miss Zelah Pentewan made him pause. A reluctant smile touched his lips and dragged at the scarred tissue of his cheek. She was not conventionally pretty, too small and thin, with mousy brown hair and brown eyes. She reminded him of a sparrow, nothing like the voluptuous beauties he had known. When he thought of her standing up to him, prepared to fight him to protect her nephew … by God she had spirit, for she barely came up to his shoulder! He washed and dried his face, his fingers aware of the rough, pitted skin on his left cheek through the soft linen cloth. He remembered how she had glared at him, neither flinching nor averting her eyes once she had seen his scarred face. He gave her credit for that, but he would not subject her to the gruesome sight again. There was plenty for him to do that would keep him well away from the house for a few days. ‘Well, I have cleaned and bandaged the leg. Now we must wait. I have given him a sleeping draught which should see him through to the morning and after that it will be up to you to keep him still while the leg heals. He will be as good as new in a few weeks.’ ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Zelah stared down at the motionless little figure in the middle of the bed. Nicky had fainted away when the doctor began to work on his leg and now he looked so fragile and uncharacteristically still that tears started to her eyes. ‘Now, now, Miss Pentewan, no need for this. The boy has a strong constitution—by heaven, no one knows that better than I, for I have been calling at West Barton since he was a sickly little scrap of a baby that no one expected to survive. I’m hoping that bruise on his head is nothing serious. I haven’t bled him, but if he begins to show a fever then I will do so tomorrow. For now keep him calm and rested and I will call again in the morning.’ The doctor’s gruff kindness made her swallow hard. ‘Thank you, Dr Pannell. And if he wakes in pain …?’ ‘A little laudanum and water will do him no harm.’ There was a knock at the door and the housekeeper peeped in. ‘Here’s the little lad’s papa come to see him, Doctor.’ She flattened herself against the door as Reginald Buckland swept in, hat, gloves and riding whip clutched in one hand and an anxious look upon his jovial features. ‘I came as soon as I heard. How is he?’ Zelah allowed the doctor to repeat his prognosis. ‘Can he be moved?’ asked Reginald, staring at his son. ‘Can I take him home?’ ‘I would not advise it. The wound is quite deep and any jolting at this stage could start it bleeding again.’ ‘But he cannot stay here, in the house of a man I hardly know!’ Doctor Pannell’s bushy eyebrows drew together. ‘I understood the major was some sort of relative of yours, Mr Buckland.’ Reginald shrugged. ‘Very distant. Oh, I admit it was through my letters to a cousin that he heard about Rooks Tower being vacant, but I had never met him until he moved here, and since then we have exchanged barely a dozen words. He has never once come to West Barton.’ A grim little smile hovered on the doctor’s lips. ‘No, Major Coale has not gone out of his way to make himself known to his neighbours.’ ‘I think Nicky must stay here, Reginald.’ Zelah touched his arm. ‘Major Coale has put his house and servants at our disposal.’ ‘Aye, he must, at least until the wound begins to heal,’ averred Dr Pannell, picking up his hat. ‘Now, I shall be away and will return tomorrow to see how my patient does.’ Reginald remained by the bed, staring down at his son and heir. He rubbed his chin. ‘If only I knew what to do. If only his mama could be with him!’ ‘Impossible, when she is confined with little Reginald.’ ‘Or Nurse.’ ‘Yes, she would be ideal, but my sister and the new baby need her skill and attentions,’ said Zelah. ‘I have considered all these possibilities, Reginald, and I think there is only one solution. You must leave Nicky to my care.’ ‘But that’s just it,’ exclaimed Reginald. ‘I cannot leave you here.’ ‘And I cannot leave Nicky.’ ‘Then I had best stay, too.’ Zelah laughed. ‘Now why should you do that? You know nothing about nursing. And besides, what will poor Maria do if both you and I are away from home? I know how my sister suffers with her nerves when she is alone for too long.’ ‘Aye, she does.’ Reginald took a turn about the room, torn by indecision. Nicky stirred and muttered something in his sleep. ‘Go home, Reginald. These fidgets will disturb Nicky.’ ‘But this is a bachelor household.’ ‘That is unfortunate, of course, but it cannot be helped.’ She dipped a cloth in the bowl of lavender water and gently wiped the boy’s brow. ‘If it is any comfort, Reginald, Major Coale has informed me—via his housekeeper—that he will not come into this wing of the house while we are here. Indeed, once he had seen Nicky safely into bed he disappeared, giving his housekeeper orders to supply us with everything necessary. I shall sleep in the anteroom here, so that I may be on hand should Nicky wake in the night, and I will take my meals here. So you see there can be no danger of impropriety.’ Reginald did not look completely reassured. ‘Would you like me to send over our maid?’ ‘Unnecessary, and it would give offence to Mrs Graddon.’ Zelah smiled at him. ‘We shall go on very comfortably, believe me, if you will arrange for some clothes to be sent over for us. And perhaps you will come again tomorrow and bring some games for Nicky. Then we shall do very well.’ ‘But it will not do! You are a gently bred young lady—’ ‘I am soon to be a governess and must learn to deal with situations such as this.’ She squeezed his arm. ‘Trust me, Reginald. Nicky must stay here and I shall remain to look after him until he can be moved to West Barton. Now go and reassure Maria that all is well here.’ He took his leave at last and Zelah found herself alone in the sickroom for the first time. Nicky was still sleeping soundly, which she knew was a good thing, but it left her with little to do, except rearrange the room to her satisfaction. Zelah took dinner in the room, but the soup the housekeeper brought up for Nicky remained untouched, for he showed no signs of waking. ‘Poor little lamb, sleep’s the best thing for him,’ said Mrs Graddon when she came to remove the dishes. ‘Tomorrow I shall make some lemon jelly, to tempt his appetite. I know he’s very fond of that.’ ‘Oh?’ Zelah looked up. ‘Is my nephew in the habit of calling here?’ ‘Aye, bless his heart. If he finds an injured animal or bird in the woods he often brings it here for the master to mend, and afore he goes he always comes down to the kitchens to find me.’ Zelah put her hands to her cheeks, mortified. ‘Oh dear, he really should not be bothering Major Coale with such things, or you.’ ‘Lord love ‘ee, mistress, the boy ain’t doin’ no ‘arm,’ exclaimed Mrs Graddon. ‘In fact, I think ‘e does the master good.’ She paused, slanting a sidelong glance at Zelah. ‘You’ve probably noticed that the major shuns company, but that’s because o’ this.’ She rubbed her finger over her left temple. ‘Right across his chest, it goes, though thankfully it never touched his vital organs. Took a cut to his thigh, too, but the sawbones stitched him up before he ever came home, so his leg’s as good as new.’ ‘But when he walks …’ The housekeeper tutted, smoothing down her apron. ‘He’s had the very finest doctors look at ‘im and they can find nothing wrong with his leg. They say ‘tis all in his head. For the master don’t always limp, as I’ve noticed, often and often.’ She sighed. ‘Before he went off to war and got that nasty scar he was a great one for society—him and his brother both. Twins they are and such handsome young men, they captured so many hearts I can’t tell you!’ ‘You’ve known the family for a long time?’ ‘Aye, miss, I started as a housemaid at Markham, that’s the family home, where the master’s brother, the viscount, now lives. Then when the master decided to set up his own house here, Graddon and I was only too pleased to come with him. But he don’t go into company, nor does he invite anyone here, and I can understand that. I’ve seen ‘em—when people meets the master, they look everywhere but at his face and that do hurt him, you see. But Master Nick, well, he treats the major no different from the rest.’ Zelah was silent. In her mind she was running over her meeting with Major Coale. Had she avoided looking at his terrible scarred face? She thought not, but when she had first seen him she believed he was attacking Nicky and she had been in no mood for polite evasions. The housekeeper went off and Zelah settled down to keep watch upon her patient. * * * As the hours passed the house grew silent. She had a sudden yearning for company and was tempted to go down to the kitchen in the hope of meeting the housekeeper, or even a kitchen maid. She would do no such thing, of course, and was just wondering how she could occupy herself when there was a knock at the door. It was Mrs Graddon. ‘The major asked me to bring you these, since you likes reading.’ She held out a basket full of books. ‘He says to apologise, but they’s all he has at the moment, most of his books being still in the crates they arrived in, but he hopes you’ll find something here to suit.’ ‘Thank you.’ Zelah took the basket and retreated to her chair by the fire, picking up the books one by one from the basket. Richardson, Smollett, Defoe, even Mrs Radcliffe. She smiled. If she could not amuse herself with these, then she did not deserve to be pleased. She was comforted by the major’s thoughtfulness. Feeling much less lonely, she settled down, surrounded by books. It was after midnight when Nicky began to grow restless. Zelah was stretched out on the bed prepared for her when she heard him mutter. Immediately she was at his side, feeling his brow, trying to squeeze a little water through his parched lips. He batted aside her hand and turned his head away, muttering angrily. Zelah checked the bandages. They were still in place, but if he continued to toss and turn he might well open the wound and set it bleeding again. She wished she had not refused Mrs Graddon’s offer to have a truckle bed made up in the room for a maid, but rather than wring her hands in an agony of regret she picked up her bedroom candle and set off to find some help. Zelah had not ventured from the yellow bedroom since she had followed Nicky there earlier in the day. She retraced her steps back to the great hall, too anxious about her nephew to feel menaced by the flickering shadows that danced around her. There was a thin strip of light showing beneath one of the doors off the hall and she did not hesitate. She crossed to the door and knocked softly before entering. She was in Major Coale’s study, and the man himself was sitting before the dying fire, reading by the light of a branched candelabra on the table beside him. ‘I beg your pardon, I need to find Mrs Graddon. It’s Nicky …’ He had put down his book and was out of the chair even as she spoke. He was not wearing his coat and the billowing shirt-sleeves made him look even bigger than she remembered. ‘What is wrong with him?’ ‘He is feverish and I c-cannot hold him …’ ‘Let me see.’ He added, observing her hesitation, ‘I have some knowledge of these matters.’ Zelah nodded, impatient to return to Nicky. They hurried upstairs, the major’s dragging leg causing his shoe to scuff at each step. It was no louder than a whisper, but it echoed through the darkness. Nicky’s fretful crying could be heard even as they entered the anteroom. Zelah flew to his side. ‘Hush now, Nicky. Keep still, love, or you will hurt your leg again.’ ‘It hurts now! I want Mama!’ The major put a gentle hand on his forehead. ‘She is looking after your little brother, sir. You have your aunt and me to take care of you.’ He inspected the bottles ranged on the side table and quickly mixed a few drops of laudanum into a glass of water. The calm, male voice had its effect. Nicky blinked and fixed his eyes on Zelah, who smiled at him. ‘You are a guest in the major’s house, Nicky.’ ‘Oh.’ The little fingers curled around her hand. ‘And are you staying here too, Aunt Zelah?’ ‘She is,’ said the major, ‘for as long as you need her. Now, sir, let me help you sit up a little and you must take your medicine.’ ‘No, no, it hurts when I move.’ ‘We will lift you very carefully,’ Zelah assured him. ‘I don’t want to …’ ‘Come, sir, it is only a little drink and it will take the pain away.’ The major slipped an arm about the boy’s shoulders and held the glass to his lips. Nicky took a little sip and shuddered. ‘It is best taken in one go,’ the major advised him. The little boy’s mouth twisted in distaste. ‘Did you take this when you were wounded?’ ‘Gallons of it,’ said the major cheerfully. ‘Now, one, two, three.’ He ruthlessly tipped the mixture down the boy’s throat. Nicky swallowed, shuddered and his lip trembled. ‘There, it is done and you were very brave. Miss Pentewan will turn your pillows and you will soon feel much more comfortable.’ ‘Will you stay, ‘til I go to sleep again?’ ‘You have your aunt here.’ ‘Please.’ Zelah responded with a nod to the major’s quick glance of enquiry. ‘Very well.’ He sat down at the side of the bed and took the little hand that reached out for him. ‘Would you like me to tell you a story?’ asked Zelah, but Nicky ignored her. He fixed his eyes upon the major. ‘Will you tell me how you got your scar?’ Zelah stopped breathing. She glanced at the major. He did not look to be offended. ‘I have told you that a dozen times. You cannot want to hear it again.’ ‘Yes, I do, if you please, sir. All of it.’ ‘Very well.’ He pulled his chair closer to the bed and Zelah drew back into the shadows. ‘New Year’s Day ‘09 and we were struggling through the mountains back towards Corunna, with the French hot on our heels. The weather was appalling. During the day the roads were rivers of mud and by night they were frozen solid. When we reached Cacabelos—’ ‘You missed something,’ Nicky interrupted him. ‘The man with the pigtail.’ ‘Ah, yes.’ Major Coale’s eyes softened in amusement. In the shadows Zelah smiled. She had read Nicky enough stories to know he expected the same tale, word for word, each time. The major continued. ‘One Highlander woke to find he couldn’t get up because his powdered pigtail was frozen to the ground. A couple of days later we reached the village of Cacabelos and the little stone bridge over the River Cua. Unfortunately discipline had become a problem during that long retreat to Corunna and General Edward Paget was obliged to make an example of those guilty of robbery. He was about to execute two of the men when he heard that the French were upon us. The general was extremely vexed at this, and after cursing roundly he turned to his men. “If I spare the lives of these men,” he said, “do I have your word of honour as soldiers that you will reform?” The men shouted “Yes!” and the convicted men were cut down.’ ‘Huzza!’ Nicky gave a sleepy cheer. Major Coale continued, his voice soft and low. ‘And just in time, for the enemy were already in sight. They were upon us in an instant, the French 15th Chasseurs and the 3rd Hussars, all thundering down to the bridge. All was confusion—our men could not withdraw because the way was blocked with fighting men and horses. Fortunately the chasseurs were in disarray and drew back to regroup, giving us time to get back across the bridge. We fixed bayonets and waited below the six guns of the horse artillery, which opened fire as the French charged again. The 52nd and the 95th delivered a furious crossfire on their flanks, killing two generals and I don’t know how many men, but still they came on and fell upon us.’ He paused, his brow darkening. Nicky stirred and the major drew a breath before going on. ‘I found myself caught between two chasseurs. I wounded one of them, but the other closed in. His sabre slashed down across my face and chest. I managed to unseat him and he crashed to the ground. He made another wild slash and caught my leg, but I had the satisfaction of knowing he was taken prisoner and his comrades were in full retreat before I lost consciousness.’ ‘Don’t stop, sir. What happened then?’ Nicky’s eyes were beginning to close. ‘I was patched up and put on to a baggage wagon. Luckily I had no serious internal injuries, for I fear it would have been fatal to be so shaken and jarred as we continued to Villafranca. I remember very little after that until we reached England. Someone had sent word to Markham, and my brother came to collect me from Falmouth and take me home. There I received the best treatment available, but alas, even money cannot buy me a new face.’ He lapsed into silence. Nicky was at last in a deep sleep, his little hand still clasped in the major’s long lean fingers. Silence enveloped them. At length the major became aware of Zelah’s presence and turned to look at her. She realised then her cheeks were wet with tears. ‘I—I beg your pardon.’ Quickly she turned away, pulling out her handkerchief. ‘You have been most obliging, Major Coale, more than we had any right to expect.’ She wiped her eyes, trying to speak normally. ‘Nicky is sleeping now. We do not need to trouble you any longer.’ ‘And what will you do?’ ‘I shall sit with him …’ He shook his head. ‘You cannot sit up all night. I will watch over him for a few hours while you get some sleep.’ Zelah wavered. She was bone-weary, but she was loath to put herself even deeper in this man’s debt. He gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Go and lie down,’ he ordered her. ‘You will not be fit to look after the boy in the morning if you do not get some sleep.’ He was right. Zelah retired to the little anteroom. She did not undress, merely removed her shoes and stretched out on the bed, pulling a single blanket over her. Her last waking thought was that it would be impossible to sleep with Major Coale sitting in the next room. Zelah was awoken by a cock crowing. It was light, but the sun had not yet risen. She stared at the unfamiliar surroundings, then, as memory returned, she slipped off the bed and crept into the next room. Nicky was still sleeping soundly and the major was slumped forwards over the bed, his shaggy dark head on his arms. The fire had died and the morning air was very chill. Noiselessly Zelah crossed the room and knelt down by the hearth. ‘What are you doing?’ The major’s deep voice made her jump. ‘I am going to rescue the fire.’ ‘Oh, no, you are not. I will send up a servant to see to that.’ He towered over her, hand outstretched. She allowed him to help her up, trying to ignore the tingle that shot through her at his touch. It frightened her. His presence filled the room, it was disturbing, suffocating, and she stepped away, searching for something to break the uneasy silence. ‘I—um—the story you told Nicky, about your wound. It was very … violent for a little boy. He seemed quite familiar with it.’ ‘Yes. He asked me about my face the very first time he saw me and has wanted me to recount the story regularly ever since.’ He was watching the sleeping boy, the smile tugging at his lips just visible through the black beard. ‘I was working in the woods and he came up, offered to help me finish off the game pie Mrs Graddon had packed into my bag to sustain me through the day.’ ‘You must have thought him very impertinent.’ ‘Not at all. His honesty was very refreshing. Most people look away, embarrassed by my disfigurement.’ ‘Oh, I beg your pardon. I hope you did not think that I—’ The smile turned into a grin. ‘You, madam, seemed intent upon inflicting even more damage upon me.’ The amusement in his eyes drew a reluctant smile from Zelah. ‘You did—do—look rather savage. Although I know now that you are very kind,’ she added in a rush. She felt herself blushing. ‘You have been sitting here all night and must be desperate for sleep. I can manage now, thank you, Major. You had best go …’ ‘I should, of course. I will send someone up to see to the fire and order Mrs Graddon to bring your breakfast to you.’ ‘Thank you.’ He gave her a clipped little bow and turned to leave. ‘Major! The chasseur—the one who injured you—was he really taken prisoner?’ He stopped and looked back. ‘Yes, he was.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘I may look like a monster, Miss Pentewan, but I assure you I am not.’ Chapter Two (#ulink_91719ac3-9cae-53e1-9d56-aa4eb3d88509) Nicky was drowsy and fretful when he eventually woke up, but Dr Pannell was able to reassure Zelah that he was recovering well. ‘A little fever is to be expected, but he seems to be in fine form now. I think keeping him still is going to be your biggest problem.’ Zelah had thought so too and she was relieved when Reginald arrived with a selection of toys and games for his son. ‘Goodness!’ She laughed when she saw the large basket that Reginald placed on the bed. ‘Major Coale will think we plan to stay for a month.’ Reginald grinned. ‘I let Nurse choose what to send. I fear she was over-generous to make up for not being able to come herself.’ ‘And what did our host say, when you came in with such a large basket?’ ‘I have not seen him. His man informed me that he is busy with his keeper and likely to be out all day.’ He glanced at Nicky, happily sorting through the basket, and led Zelah into the anteroom. ‘I had the feeling he was ordered to say that and to make sure I knew that he had given instructions for a maid to sit up with the boy during the night. Setting my mind at rest that he would not be imposing himself upon you while you are here.’ ‘Major Coale is very obliging.’ ‘Dashed ragged fellow though, with all that hair, but I suppose that’s to cover the scar on his face.’ He paused. ‘Maria asked me to drop a word in your ear, but for my part I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.’ ‘What did she wish you to say to me?’ He chewed his lip for a moment. ‘She was concerned. Coale was well known as something of a, er, a rake before the war. His name was forever in the society pages. Well, stands to reason, doesn’t it, younger son of a viscount, and old Lord Markham had some scandals to his name, I can tell you! Coale’s brother’s inherited the title now, of course, and from what I have read he’s just as wild as the rest of ‘em.’ He added quickly, ‘Only hearsay, of course. I’ve never had much to do with that side of the family—far too high and mighty for one thing. The Bucklands are a very distant branch. But that’s neither here nor there. We were worried the major might try to ingratiate himself with you—after all, we are mighty obliged to him—and Maria thought you might have … stirrings.’ ‘Stirrings, Reginald?’ He flushed. ‘Aye. Maria says that sometimes a woman’s sympathy for an injured man can stir her—that she can find him far too … attractive.’ Zelah laughed. ‘Then you may set Maria’s mind at rest. The only stirring I have when I think of Major Coale is to comb his hair!’ Reginald stayed for an hour or more and after that Hannah, the chambermaid appointed to help Zelah look after Nicky, came up to introduce herself. By the time dinner was brought up it was clear that she was more than capable of nursing Nicky and keeping him amused, and Zelah realised a trifle ruefully that it was not Nicky’s boredom but her own that might be a problem. Zelah and Hannah had taken it in turns to sit up with Nicky through the night, but there was no recurrence of the fever and when Dr Pannell called the following morning he declared himself satisfied that the boy would be able to go home at the end of the week. ‘I will call again on Friday, Miss Pentewan, and providing there has been no more bleeding we will make arrangements to return you both to West Barton. You will be the first to use the major’s new carriageway.’ ‘Oh, is it finished?’ asked Zelah. ‘I have been watching them repair the drive, but I cannot see what is going on beyond the gates.’ ‘I spoke to the workmen on the way here and they told me the road will be passable by tomorrow. The road-building has been a godsend for Lesserton, providing work for so many of the men. The problems with grazing rights is making it difficult for some of them to feed their families.’ ‘Is this the dispute with the new owner of Lydcombe Park? My brother-in-law mentioned something about this before I came away.’ ‘Aye, Sir Oswald Evanshaw moved in on Lady Day and he is claiming land that the villagers believe belongs to them.’ The doctor shook his head. ‘Of course, he has a point: the house has changed hands several times in recent years, but no one has actually lived there, so the villagers have been in the habit of treating everything round about as their own. The boundaries between Lydcombe land and that belonging to the villagers have become confused. He’s stopped them going into Prickett Wood, too, so they cannot collect the firewood as they were used to do and Sir Oswald’s bailiff is prepared to use violence against anyone who tries to enter the wood. He’s driven out all the deer, so that they are now competing with the villagers’ stock for fodder.’ He was silent for a moment, frowning over the predicament, then he shook off his melancholy thoughts and gave her a smile. ‘Thankfully Major Coale is of a completely different stamp. He is happy for the local people to gather firewood from his forest. It is good fortune that Nicky chose to injure himself on the major’s land rather that at Lydcombe.’ Zelah had agreed, but as the day wore on she began to wonder if she would have the opportunity to thank her host for his hospitality. With Hannah to share the nursing Zelah was growing heartily bored with being confined to the sickroom. When the maid came up the following morning she asked her casually if the major was in the house. ‘Oh, no, miss. He left early. Mr Graddon said not to expect him back much before dinner.’ She bobbed a curtsy and settled down to a game of spillikins with Nicky. Left to amuse herself, Zelah carried her work basket to the cushioned window seat and took out her embroidery. It was a beautiful spring day and she could hear the faint call of the cuckoo in the woods. The sun climbed higher. Zelah put away her sewing and read to Nicky while Hannah quietly tidied the room around them. The book was one of Nicky’s favourites, Robinson Crusoe, but as the afternoon wore on his eyelids began to droop, and soon he was sleeping peacefully. ‘Best thing for’n. Little mite.’ Hannah looked down fondly at the sleeping boy. ‘Why don’t you go and get yourself some rest, too, miss? I’ll sit here and watch’n for ‘ee.’ Zelah sighed, her eyes on the open window. ‘What I would really like to do is to go outside.’ ‘Then why don’t ‘ee? No one’ll bother you. You could walk in the gardens. I can always call you from the window, if the boy wakes up.’ Zelah hesitated, but only for a moment. The spring day was just too beautiful to miss. With a final word to Hannah to be sure to call her if she was needed, she slipped down the stairs and out of the house. The lawns had been scythed, but weeds now inhabited the flowerbeds and the shrubs were straggling and overgrown. After planning how she would restock the borders and perhaps add a statue or two, she moved on and discovered the kitchen garden, where some attempt was being made to improve it. The hedge separating the grounds from the track that led to the stables had been hacked down to waist height, beds had been dug and cold frames repaired. Heartened by these signs of industry, Zelah was about to retrace her steps when she heard the clip-clop of an approaching horse. Major Coale was riding towards the stables on a huge grey horse. She picked up her skirts and flew across to the hedge, calling out to him. He stopped, looking around in surprise. ‘Should you not be with the boy?’ She stared up at him. ‘You have shaved off your beard.’ ‘Very observant. But you have not answered my question.’ ‘Hannah is sitting with him. It was such a beautiful day I had to come out of doors.’ She answered calmly, refusing to be offended by his curt tone and was rewarded when he asked in a much milder way how the boy went on. ‘He is doing very well, thank you. Dr Pannell is coming in the morning to examine Nicky. All being well, I hope to take him back to West Barton tomorrow.’ He inclined his head and made to move on. She put up her hand. ‘Please, don’t go yet! I wanted to thank you for all you have done for us.’ ‘That is not necessary.’ ‘I think it is.’ She smiled. ‘I believe if I had not caught you now I should not have seen you again before we left.’ He looked down at her, unsmiling. His grey eyes were as hard as granite. ‘My staff have orders to look after you. You have no need to see me.’ ‘But I want to.’ She glanced away, suddenly feeling a little shy. ‘You have been very kind to us. I wanted to thank you.’ She could feel his eyes boring into her and kept her own fixed on the toe of his muddy boot. ‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘You have thanked me. That is an end to it.’ He touched his heels to the horse’s flanks and moved on. ‘I wish I had said nothing,’ she muttered, embarrassment making her irritable. ‘Did I expect him to thaw a little, merely because I expressed my gratitude? The man is nothing but a boor.’ Even as she spoke the words she came to a halt as another, more uncomfortable thought occurred. Perhaps Major Coale was lonely. What was it Mrs Graddon had said? He was a great one for society. That did not sit well with his assertion that he had no wish for company. His curt manner, the long hair and the shaggy beard that had covered his face until today—perhaps it was all designed to keep the world at bay. ‘Well, if that is so, it is no concern of mine,’ she addressed the rosemary bush beside her. ‘We all have our crosses to bear and some of us do not have the means to shut ourselves away and wallow in our misery!’ When Dr Pannell called the next day he gave Nicky a thorough examination, at the end of which Zelah asked him anxiously if he might go home now. ‘I think not, my dear.’ ‘But his mama is so anxious for him,’ said Zelah, disappointed. ‘And you said he might be moved today …’ ‘I know, but that was when I thought the major’s new road would be finished. Now they tell me it will not be open properly until tomorrow. Be patient, my dear. Major Coale has told me his people will be working into the night to make the road passable for you.’ With that she had to be satisfied. Nick appeared quite untroubled by the news that he was to remain at Rooks Tower. His complaisance was much greater than Zelah’s. She hated to admit it, but she was finding the constant attendance on an eight-year-old boy and the company of an amiable but childish chambermaid a little dull. After sharing a light luncheon with Nicky, Zelah left the boy reading with Hannah and went off in search of Mrs Graddon, to offer her help, only to find that the good lady had gone into Lesserton for supplies. Unwilling to return to the sickroom just yet, Zelah picked up her shawl and went out to explore more of the grounds. Having seen enough of the formal gardens, she walked around to the front of the house and headed for the orangery. A chill wind was blowing down from the moors and she wrapped her shawl about her as she crossed the lawn. The orangery was built in the classical style. Huge sash windows were separated by graceful pillars that supported an elegant pediment. Between the two central columns were glazed double doors. The stone was in good order, if in need of a little repair, but the woodwork looked sadly worn and several panes of glass were broken. Zelah was surprised to find the doors unlocked. They opened easily and she stepped inside, glad to be out of the wind. The interior was bare, save for a few dried leaves on the floor, but there were niches in the walls which were clearly designed to hold statues. A shadow fell across her and she swung around. ‘Oh.’ Major Coale was standing in the doorway. She guessed he had just returned from riding, for his boots were spattered with mud and there was a liberal coating of dust on his brown coat. His broad-brimmed hat was jammed on his head and its shadow made it impossible to read his expression. She waved her hand ineffectually. ‘I—um—I hope you do not mind …’ ‘Why should I?’ He stepped inside, suddenly making the space seem much smaller. ‘I saw the open doors and came across to see who was here. What do you think of it?’ ‘It is in need of a little repair,’ she began carefully. ‘I was thinking of tearing it down—’ ‘No!’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said stiffly. ‘It is of course up to you what you do here.’ ‘It is indeed, but I am curious, Miss Pentewan. What would you do with it?’ ‘New windows and doors,’ she said immediately. ‘Then I would furnish it with chairs for the summer and in the winter I would use it as it was intended, to shelter orange trees.’ ‘But I have no orange trees.’ ‘You might buy some. I understand oranges are extremely good for one.’ He grunted. ‘You are never at a loss for an answer, are you, ma’am?’ Yes, she thought, I am at a loss now. She gave a little shrug and looked away. ‘I should get back.’ ‘I will accompany you.’ She hurried out into the sunlight and set off for the house. Major Coale fell into step beside her. ‘So you will be leaving us tomorrow. I met Dr Pannell on the road,’ he explained, answering her unspoken question. ‘You will be glad to return to West Barton.’ ‘Yes.’ He drew in a harsh breath, as if she had touched a raw wound and she hurried to explain. ‘It is not—you have been all kindness, and your staff have done everything required …’ ‘But?’ She drew her shawl a little tighter. ‘I shall be glad to have a little adult company once more.’ There. She had said it. But as soon as the words were uttered she regretted them. ‘Please do not think I am complaining—I am devoted to Nicky and could not have left him here alone.’ ‘But you have missed intelligent conversation?’ ‘Yes,’ she responded, grateful that he understood. ‘When I lived at home, in Cardinham, Papa and I would talk for hours.’ ‘Of what?’ ‘Oh, anything! Politics, music, books. At West Barton it is the same, although my sister is a little preoccupied at the moment with her baby. But when Reginald is at home we enjoy some lively debates.’ She flushed a little. ‘Forgive me, I am of course extremely grateful to you for all you have done—’ ‘I know, you told me as much yesterday. Yet it appears I am failing as a host.’ They had reached the front door and he stopped. ‘Perhaps you would join me for dinner this evening.’ The request was so unexpected that she could only stare at him. ‘No, of course that is not possible. Forget I—’ ‘Of course it is possible.’ She spoke quickly, while an inner voice screamed its warnings at her. To dine alone with a man, was she mad? But in that instant when he had issued his invitation she had seen something in his eyes, a haunting desolation that burned her soul. It was gone in a moment, replaced by his habitual cold, shuttered look. But that brief connection had wrenched at the core of loss and loneliness buried deep within her, and Zelah found the combination was just too strong to withstand. ‘I would be delighted to join you.’ His brows rose. ‘There will be no chaperone.’ ‘Nicky will be in the house and your housekeeper.’ His hard eyes searched her face for a moment. ‘Very well, Miss Pentewan. Until dinner!’ With that he touched his hat, turned on his heel and marched off towards the stables. * * * Zelah looked at the scant assortment of clothes laid out on the bed. Whoever had packed her bag had clearly assumed she would spend all her time in the sickroom. Neither her serviceable grey gown nor the dimity day dress was suitable for dining with the major. However, there was a green sash and matching stole that she could wear with her yellow muslin. Mrs Graddon had washed it for her and there were only a few drawn threads from her escapade in the woods. Once she had tied the sash around her waist and draped the stole over her arms she thought it would serve her well enough as an evening dress. In the few hours since the major had invited her to dine, Zelah had pondered upon his reasons for doing so, and had come to the conclusion that it was twofold: he was being kind to her, but also he was lonely. If she thought for a moment that he was attracted to her she would have declined his invitation, but Zelah had no illusions about herself. Her mirror showed her a very nondescript figure, too thin for beauty and with soft brown hair that was neither fashionably dark nor attractively blond. And at two-and-twenty she was practically an old maid. Sometimes she thought back to the happy girl she had been at eighteen, with a ready laugh and a sparkle in her eyes. Her figure had been better then, too, but at eighteen she had been in love and could see only happiness ahead. A year later everything had changed. She had lost her love, her happy future and her zest for life. Looking in her mirror now, she saw nothing to attract any man. And that could only be to her benefit, she reminded herself, if she was going to make her own way in the world. Hannah had found her a length of yellow ribbon for her hair and five minutes before the appointed hour she presented herself to her nephew. ‘Well, will I do?’ Nicky wrinkled his nose. ‘I wish I could come with you, Aunty.’ ‘So, too, do I, love,’ said Zelah earnestly. She had been growing increasingly anxious about meeting the major as the dinner hour approached. ‘Ah, well, after I’ve given Master Nicky his supper we are going to finish our puzzle,’ said Hannah, beaming happily. ‘Now you go on and enjoy your dinner, miss, and don’t ‘ee worry about us, we shall have a fine time!’ Zelah made her way down to the great hall, where the evening sun created a golden glow. She had no idea where the drawing room might be and was just wondering what to do when Graddon appeared. ‘This way, madam, if you please.’ He directed her to a door beside the major’s study and opened it for her. After the dazzling brightness of the hall, the room seemed very dark, but when her eyes grew accustomed she saw that she was alone and she relaxed a little, looking about her with interest. It was a long room with a lofty ceiling, ornately plastered. The crimson walls were covered with large paintings, mostly of men and women in grey wigs and the fashions of the last century, but there was one painting beside the fireplace of a young lady with her hair tumbling like dark, polished mahogany over her shoulders. She wore a high-waisted gown and the artist had cleverly painted the skirts as if they had just been caught by a soft breeze. Zelah stepped closer. There was a direct, fearless stare in the girl’s dark eyes and a firm set to those sculpted lips. She looked strangely familiar. ‘My sister, Serena.’ She jumped and turned to find the major standing behind her. ‘Oh, I did not hear you—’ She almost said she had not heard the scuffing of his dragging foot. Flustered, she turned back to the painting. ‘She is very like you, I think.’ He gave a bark of laughter. ‘Not in looks, I hope! Nor in temperament. She was not the least serene, which is why Jasper and I renamed her Sally! Very wild and headstrong. At least she was until she married. Now she is a model of respectability.’ ‘And is she happy?’ ‘Extremely.’ She took a last look at the painting, then turned to her host. Although she had seen him without his beard that afternoon, his clean-shaven appearance still surprised her. He had brushed his thick, dark hair and tied it back with a ribbon. The ragged scar was now visible, stretching from his left temple, down through his eyebrow and left cheekbone to his chin, dragging down the left side of his mouth. The look in his eyes was guarded with just a touch of defiance. Zelah realised he expected her to look away, revolted by the sight of his scarred face. She was determined not to do that and, not knowing quite what to do, she smiled at him. ‘You look very smart, sir.’ The wary look disappeared. ‘Thank you, ma’am.’ He gave a little bow. ‘I believe this is still the standard wear for dinner.’ They both knew she was not referring to the black evening coat and snowy waistcoat and knee breeches, but her smile grew. ‘Your dress is very different from the first time I saw you.’ ‘I keep that old coat for when I am working in the woods. It is loose across the shoulders and allows me to swing the axe.’ He paused. ‘Graddon informs me that there has been a slight upset in the kitchen and dinner is not quite ready.’ A faint smile lifted the good side of his mouth. ‘Mrs Graddon is an estimable creature, but I understand my telling her I would be entertaining a guest caused the sauce to curdle.’ ‘Sauces are notoriously difficult,’ she said carefully. He held out his arm to her. ‘Perhaps you would care to step out on to the terrace while we wait?’ Zelah nodded her assent and took his proffered arm. He walked her across the room to the door set between the long windows. ‘You see the house has been sadly neglected,’ he said as he led her out of doors. He bent to pluck a straggling weed from between the paving slabs and tossed it aside. ‘The rose garden has survived quite well,’ she observed. ‘It needs only a little work to bring it into some sort of order.’ ‘Really? When I last looked the plants were quite out of control.’ ‘They need pruning, that is all. And even the shrubbery is not, I think, beyond saving. Cut the plants back hard and they will grow better than ever next year.’ ‘Pity the same thing does not apply to people.’ She had been happily imagining how the gardens might look, but his bitter words brought her back to reality. She might be able to forget her companion’s disfigurement, but he could not. A sudden little breeze made her shiver. ‘I beg your pardon. It is too early in the year to be out of doors.’ The major put his hand out to help her arrange her stole. Did it rest on her shoulder a moment longer than was necessary, or was that her imagination? He was standing very close, looming over her. A sense of his physical power enveloped her. This is all nonsense, she told herself sternly, but the sensation persisted. Run, Zelah, go now! ‘Perhaps, ma’am, we should go back inside.’ He put his hand beneath her arm and she almost jumped away, her nerves jangling. Immediately he released her, standing back so that she could precede him into the room. He had turned slightly, so that he presented only the uninjured side of his face to her and silently Zelah berated herself. Major Coale was acting as a gentleman, while she was displaying the sort of ill-mannered self-consciousness that she despised. That was no way to repay her host’s kindness. She must try harder. He escorted her to the dining room, where Zelah’s stretched nerves tightened even more. A place was set at the head of the table and another on its right hand. It was far too intimate. She cleared her throat. ‘Major, would—would you object if I made slight adjustment to the setting?’ She flushed under his questioning gaze, but he merely shrugged. ‘As you wish.’ She squared her shoulders. The setting at the head of the table was soon moved to the left hand, so that they would be facing each other. She had to steel herself to turn back to the major. The silence as he observed her work was unnerving, but Zelah comforted herself that the worst he could do was order her to go back to her room and eat alone. At last those piercing eyes moved to her face. ‘Do you think you will be safer with five foot of mahogany between us?’ ‘It is more … seemly.’ ‘Seemly! If that is your worry, perhaps we should ask Mrs Graddon to join us.’ Zelah’s anger flared. ‘I agreed to dine with you, sir, but to sit so close—’ ‘Yes, yes, it would be unseemly! So be it. For God’s sake let us sit down before the food arrives.’ He stalked to her chair and held it out. She sat down. He took his own seat in silence. ‘I beg your pardon,’ said Zelah. ‘I did not mean to put you to all this trouble.’ It was a poor enough olive branch, but it worked. Major Coale gave her a rueful look. ‘And I beg your pardon for losing my temper. My manners have lost their polish.’ The door opened and the footmen came in with the first dishes. After such an unpromising start Zelah feared that conversation might be difficult, but she was wrong. The major proved an excellent host, exerting himself to entertain. He persuaded her to take a little from every dish on the table and kept her glass filled while regaling her with amusing anecdotes. She forgot her nerves and began to enjoy herself. They discussed music and art, the theatre and politics, neither noticing when the footmen came in to light the candles, and by the time they finished their meal Zelah was exchanging opinions with the major as if they were old friends. When the covers were removed the major asked her about Nicky and she found herself chatting away, telling him how they filled their days. ‘Hannah is so good with him, too,’ she ended. ‘Thank you for sending her to help me.’ ‘It was Mrs Graddon who suggested it, knowing the girl comes from a large family.’ ‘Nicky adores her and would much rather play spillikins with her than attend to his lessons.’ His brows rose. ‘Don’t tell me you are making him work while he is laid up sick?’ She laughed. ‘No, no, but I like him to read to me a little each day and to write a short note to his mama. He is reluctant to apply himself, but I find that with a little encouragement he is willing enough. And it is very good practice for me.’ ‘Practice?’ ‘Yes, for when I become a governess.’ She selected a sweetmeat as the butler came up to refill her glass. The major waved him away. ‘Thank you, Graddon, that will be all. Leave the Madeira and I will serve Miss Pentewan.’ He waited until they were alone before he spoke again. ‘Forgive my impertinence, ma’am, but you do not look old enough to be a governess.’ She sat up very straight. ‘I am two-and-twenty, Major Coale. Not that it is any of your business!’ She bit her lip. ‘I beg you pardon. I am a guest in your house—’ ‘Guest be damned,’ he interrupted roughly. ‘That is no reason you should endure my incivility. Being a guest here should not put you under any obligation.’ Zelah chuckled, her spurt of anger dying as quickly as it had come. ‘Of course I am under an obligation to you, Major. You have gone to great lengths to accommodate us. And how could I not forgive you for paying me such a handsome compliment?’ He gave a short laugh and filled their glasses. ‘So why are you intent on becoming a governess? Can Buckland not support you?’ ‘Why should he do so, if I can earn my own living?’ ‘I should not allow my sister to become a governess.’ ‘But your father was a viscount. Reginald is only a brother by marriage, and besides, he has a family of his own to support.’ She picked up the glass he had filled for her and tasted it carefully. She had never had Madeira before, but she found she enjoyed the warm, nutty flavour. ‘I would not add to his burdens.’ He reached out, his hand hovering over the sweetmeats as he said lightly, ‘Perhaps you should look for a husband.’ ‘No!’ The vehemence brought his head up immediately and she was subjected to a piercing gaze. She decided to be flippant. ‘As I am penniless, and notoriously difficult to please, I think that might be far too difficult. I do like this wine—is it usual for gentlemen to drink it at the end of a meal? I know Reginald prefers brandy.’ To her relief he followed her lead and their conversation moved back to safer waters. She took another glass of Madeira and decided it must be her last. She was in danger of becoming light-headed. Darkness closed around them. The butler came in silently to light more candles in the room and draw the curtains against the night, but they made no move to leave the table, there was still so much to say. The major turned to speak to Graddon and Zelah studied his profile. How handsome he must have been before his face was sliced open by a French sabre. It was a momentary thought, banished as soon as it occurred, but it filled her with sadness. ‘You are very quiet, Miss Pentewan.’ His words brought her back to the present and she blushed, not knowing how to respond. In the end she decided upon the truth. ‘I was thinking about your face.’ Immediately he seemed to withdraw from her. ‘That is why I wanted you upon my right hand, to spare you that revulsion.’ She shook her head. ‘It does not revolt me.’ ‘I should not have shaved off my beard!’ ‘Yes, you should, you look so much better, only—’ ‘Yes, madam? Only what?’ The hard note in his voice warned her not to continue, but she ignored it. ‘Your hair,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I am surprised your valet does not wish to cut it.’ ‘I have no valet. Graddon does all I need.’ ‘But I thought he was a butler …’ ‘He does what is necessary. He was with me in Spain and brought me back to England. He stayed with me, helped me to come to terms with my new life.’ ‘And Mrs Graddon?’ ‘She was housemaid at Markham and decided to marry Graddon and come with him when I moved here.’ He raised his glass, his lip curling into something very like a sneer. ‘You see, my misfortune is their gain.’ She frowned. ‘Please do not belittle them. They are devoted to you.’ ‘I stand corrected,’ he said stiffly. ‘I beg your pardon and theirs.’ ‘I think you would look much better with your hair cut short. It is very much the fashion now, you know.’ He leaned closer, a belligerent, challenging look in his eye. It took all her courage not to turn away. ‘I need it long,’ he said savagely. ‘Then I can bring it down, thus, and hide this monstrous deformation.’ He pulled the ribbon from his hair and shook the dark curtain down over his face. ‘Surely that is better? I would not want to alarm the ladies and children!’ He was glaring at her, eyes narrowed, his mouth a thin, taut line, one side pulled lower by the dragging scar. ‘Nicky is not afraid of you,’ she said softly. ‘Nor do you frighten me.’ For a long, interminable time she held his eyes, hoping he would read not pity but sympathy and understanding in her gaze. He was a proud man and she was dismayed to think he was hiding from the world. To her relief, his angry look faded. ‘So would you have me trust myself to a country barber?’ he growled. ‘I think not, Miss Pentewan. Perhaps next time I go to London—’ ‘I could cut it for you.’ She sat back, shocked by her own temerity. ‘I am quite adept at cutting hair, although I have no idea where the skill comes from. I was always used to trim my father’s hair, and since I have been at West Barton I have cut Nicky’s. I am sure no one could tell it was not professionally done.’ He was frowning at her now. She had gone too far. The wine had made her reckless and her wretched tongue had let her down. Major Coale jumped up and strode to tug at the bell pull. He was summoning a footman to escort her to her room. ‘Graddon, fetch scissors and my comb, if you please.’ He caught her eye, a glint in his own. ‘Very well, Miss Pentewan, let us put you to the test.’ ‘What? I—’ She swallowed. ‘Are you sure it is what you want?’ ‘Are you losing your nerve, madam?’ Zelah quite thought that she was. Two voices warred within her: one told her that to dine alone with a gentleman who was not related to her was improper enough, but to cut the man’s hair would put her beyond the pale. The other whispered that it was her Christian duty to help him quit his self-imposed exile. The glint in his eyes turned into a gleam. He was laughing at her and her courage rose. ‘Not at all. Let us do it!’ ‘Major, are you quite sure you want me to do this?’ He was sitting on a chair by the table and Zelah was standing behind him, comb in hand. They had rearranged the candelabra to give the best light possible and the dark locks gleamed, thick and glossy around his head, spreading out like ebony across his shoulders. The enormity of what she was about to do made her hesitate. The major waved his hand. ‘Yes. I may change my mind when I am sober, but for now I want you to cut it.’ Zelah took a deep breath. It was too late to go back now, they had agreed. Besides, argued that wickedly seductive voice in her head, no one need ever know. She picked up the scissors and moved closer until her skirts were brushing his shoulder. It felt strange, uncomfortable, like standing over a sleeping tiger. Thrusting aside such fanciful thoughts, she took a secure grip of the scissors and began. His hair was like silk beneath her fingers. She lifted one dark lock and applied the scissors. They cut through it with a whisper. As she continued her confidence grew, as did the pile of black tresses on the floor. His hair was naturally curly and she had seen enough pencil drawings of gentlemen with their hair ? la Brutus since she had arrived at West Barton to recreate the style from memory—Reginald and Maria might live in a remote area of Exmoor, but they were both avid followers of the ton, receiving a constant stream of periodicals and letters from friends in London advising them of the latest fashions. She cut, combed and coaxed the major’s hair into place. It needed no pomade or grease to make it curl around his collar and his ears. She brushed the tendrils forwards around his face, as she had seen in the fashion plates. Her fingers touched the scar and he flinched. Immediately she drew back. ‘Did I hurt you?’ ‘No. Carry on.’ Carefully she finished her work, combing and snipping off a few straggling ends until she was satisfied with the result. It was not strictly necessary, but she could not resist running her fingers though his glossy, thick hair one final time. ‘There.’ She brushed the loose hair from his shoulders. ‘It is finished.’ ‘Very well, Delilah, let us see what you have done to me.’ He picked up one of the candelabra and walked over to a mirror. Zelah held her breath as he regarded his image. In the candlelight the ugly gash down his face was still visible, but it seemed diminished by the new hairstyle. The sleek black locks were brushed forwards to curl about his wide brow, accentuating the strong lines of his face. ‘Well, Miss Pentewan, I congratulate you. Perhaps you should not be looking for a post as a governess, after all. You should offer your services as a coiffeuse.’ Relief made her laugh out loud. She said daringly, ‘You look very handsome, Major.’ He turned away from the mirror and made a noise between a growl and a cough. ‘Aye, well, enough of that. It is time I sent you back to the sick room, madam. You will need to be up betimes.’ ‘Yes, of course.’ She cast a conscience-stricken look at the clock. ‘Poor Hannah has been alone with Nicky for hours.’ She held out her hand to him. ‘Goodnight, sir. I hope we shall see you in the morning before we leave?’ Again that clearing of the throat and he would not meet her eyes. ‘Perhaps. Goodnight, Miss Pentewan.’ He took her hand, his grip tightening for a second. ‘And thank you.’ Chapter Three (#ulink_1ac5317d-3105-52ca-9aea-f9da986a97f8) The following morning Reginald drove over in his travelling chaise, which Maria had filled with feather bolsters and pillows to protect Nicky during the long journey home. Nicky looked around as his father carried him tenderly out of the house. ‘Is Major Coale not here, Papa?’ ‘He sends his apologies, Master Nick,’ said Graddon in a fatherly way. ‘He went off early today to the long meadow to oversee the hedgelaying.’ ‘But I wanted to say goodbye to him!’ Nicky’s disappointed wail touched a chord in Zelah: she too would have liked to see the major. However, she was heartened by Reginald’s response. ‘Your mama has already penned a note to Major Coale. She has not only given him permission to call at any time, but she has also invited him to dinner. And once we have you home, Nicholas, you may write to him yourself, thanking him for his care of you.’ ‘Yes, and I can ask him to call and see me,’ agreed Nicky. He frowned, suddenly unsure. ‘He will come, won’t he? If I ask him ‘specially.’ ‘I do not see how he can refuse.’ Reginald grinned at Zelah. ‘But I might have to instruct the staff not to send him round to the kitchens—when I saw him last he looked so ragged one might easily mistake him for a beggar.’ ‘I think you might be surprised,’ murmured Zelah, smiling to herself. The five miles to West Barton were covered with ease and they were greeted with great joy by the household. Maria clasped her stepson and wept copiously, bewailing the fact that she had been unable to visit him, while Nurse promised him all sorts of treats to make up for his ordeal. ‘I only hope being in That Man’s house hasn’t given you nightmares,’ said Nurse, tucking Nicky into his bed. ‘I believe he is truly hideous to look at.’ Anger welled up in Zelah, but she fought it down and said quietly, ‘Nonsense. Major Coale has a scar on his face, nothing more.’ ‘Yes, and I don’t care for that,’ exclaimed Nicky. ‘He’s a great gun.’ ‘Of course he is, my pet. Now, you need to rest after your long journey.’ Obedient to her unspoken wishes the others left Nicky to Nurse’s care and made their way back downstairs to the morning room. ‘I don’t like to think that he has been making a nuisance of himself.’ Reginald frowned. ‘When Coale told me he has been running free at Rooks Tower—’ ‘Major Coale and his people are very happy to see him,’ said Zelah. ‘With everyone here so busy with the new baby, Nicky has been left too much to his own devices.’ Her words were met with a short silence. Then Maria sighed. ‘It is very true. Nurse has been giving all her attention to me and little Reginald and we were only too happy to think that Nicky was amusing himself in the garden.’ Her softly reproachful eyes moved to her husband. ‘And you have been out of the house so much recently …’ ‘Trying to gather evidence for the villagers,’ he replied defensively. ‘I could hardly take the boy with me! I never thought—Nicky seemed quite happy.’ He gave Zelah a rueful smile. ‘No wonder he took to you so well, although looking after Nicky was not the reason you came to us. My poor sister, you have been with us for only a few weeks and we have turned you into a nursemaid.’ ‘I am pleased to help, you know that, but Nicky needs companions of his own age,’ she said gently. ‘Or at the very least a tutor …’ ‘But he is so young!’ Maria clasped her hands together. ‘I suppose I must stop thinking of him as a baby now.’ She brightened. ‘You are looking for a post as a governess, Zelah—perhaps you should start with Nicky. We could pay you—’ ‘Dear sister, that is a kind thought, but that is not what I meant. And I could not take a salary off you; I have no wish to be an added drain upon your resources.’ Reginald shook his head. ‘No, it would not do at all. I believe Mr Netherby gives lessons to a few boys in the vicarage. I will make enquiries when I go into Lesserton this afternoon.’ Maria stretched out her hands to him. ‘Oh, must you go, with Nicky just come home …?’ He squeezed her fingers. ‘I’m afraid I must.’ ‘What is this business that takes you there so often, Reginald?’ asked Zelah. ‘Is it something to do with Lydcombe Park? I remember you saying the new owner was causing difficulties.’ ‘Aye. He is planning to open mines on his land.’ ‘But surely that is a good thing,’ exclaimed Maria. ‘It will provide work—’ ‘Not much. Evanshaw will be bringing in engineers and miners of his own. But the land he wants to mine is in dispute. The villagers believe it is theirs by ancient charter and have been using the land for years, grazing their animals on the hill as well as hunting in Prickett Wood. Sir Oswald claims it for his own and he has employed a bailiff, William Miller. A nasty piece of work who patrols the land with his henchmen.’ ‘And is there nothing they can do?’ ‘Those he has evicted are too poor to do anything themselves, but I have been organising the villagers. We have petitioned the Crown and put together a fund to pay for a lawyer to come to Lesserton and settle this once and for all.’ ‘But can you not talk to Sir Oswald?’ said Zelah. ‘Surely he does not want to be on bad terms with his neighbours.’ Reginald shrugged. ‘I called upon him as soon as he took possession of the house on Lady Day, but he was not at all hospitable. I do not think he intends to live at Lydcombe. The house is merely a shell; everything of value in it has been sold. He told me he means to sell off the timber from his land and then sink his mine. He has no interest at all in the people.’ ‘Then of course you must fight this,’ exclaimed Zelah. ‘I quite understand now why you are so busy. And please do not worry about Nicky, at least for the moment. I am very happy to help you look after him.’ Zelah went upstairs to relieve Nurse, satisfied that Maria and Reginald would find a solution to Nicky’s loneliness. Taking lessons at the vicarage would go a long way towards filling his days and would also provide him with the companionship of other boys. For the present, her concern was to keep him entertained while the deep gash on his leg healed. The fine spring weather continued but Zelah was too busy to go out, dividing her day between Nicky and Maria, who was delighted to have her back and insisted that Zelah should sit with her whenever she could. It was therefore a full three days before she could find the time to enjoy the sunshine. She tied a straw bonnet over her brown curls, but declined her sister’s offer of a parasol, declaring that her complexion was past praying for. Leaving the house by a side door, she set off across the grass at a very unladylike pace. It was good to be out in the fresh air again and she lifted her face up to the sun, revelling in its warmth. She walked briskly, enjoying the opportunity for a little quiet reflection. She had been at West Barton for a month now and had made no progress in finding a position. She could make excuses, of course. Maria had told her how helpful it was to have her there, looking after Nicky, but deep in her heart Zelah knew she did not want to dwindle into the role of favourite aunt, at everyone’s beck and call and willing to perform any little task in gratitude for being allowed to live with the family. ‘You are being very ungrateful,’ she said aloud. ‘A position as governess would be far from comfortable. Here you could more than earn your keep.’ She climbed over a stile and jumped lightly down. ‘But as a governess I would be paid!’ She strode on. What she wanted, she realised, was independence. If she was fortunate enough to find a good position, then it might be possible to save a little of her salary each year until she had enough to retire. That, of course, would take many, many years, but what else had she to look forward to? Perhaps you should look for a husband. Major Coale’s words came into her mind. She could almost hear his deep voice saying them. A husband. That was the ambition of most young ladies, but it was not hers. Besides, no man would want her if he knew her past—and she could not consider marrying a man without telling him everything. No, thought Zelah practically, she had only two choices: she could remain at West Barton, loved and valued at the present, but destined to become nothing more than a burdensome old maid, or she could make a bid for independence. ‘I choose independence,’ she said to a cow, regarding her balefully from the next field. ‘I shall go back now and write out an advertisement for the newspaper.’ She crossed the field and scrambled over the stile on to the lane that led up to West Barton and as she did so she saw a rider approaching from the direction of Lesserton. Major Coale. In a panic she considered jumping back over the stile and hiding until he had gone by, but it was too late; he had already seen her. ‘Good morning, Miss Pentewan.’ He raised his hat to her. She felt a little rush of pride when she saw his short hair. His cheeks were still free of a beard, too. There was no sign that he planned to revert to his former shaggy appearance. ‘I am on my way to enquire after young Master Buckland.’ ‘He is doing very well, Major, thank you. The doctor says he may leave his bed tomorrow.’ He professes to dislike society, she thought. Perhaps he will be satisfied with that report. He will touch his hat, turn and ride away again. ‘I am glad to hear it.’ He kicked his feet free from the stirrups and jumped down. ‘Are you walking back to the house now? May I join you?’ ‘I … yes, of course.’ She waited until he was beside her and began to walk on, very slowly, the grey mare clopping lazily along behind them. After a few yards the major stopped. ‘Is this how you usually walk, Miss Pentewan? I am surprised you ever get anywhere.’ ‘Yes—no, I …’ She trailed off, her gaze dropping to his booted feet. ‘I thought, your leg …’ ‘I am not a cripple, madam.’ Mrs Graddon’s words flashed into her mind and she recalled when she had offered to cut his hair and he had got up from the table to summon his servant. There had been no dragging step, no sign of a limp then. ‘Does the wound not pain you?’ she asked him. ‘Not at all, unlike this dawdling pace.’ She gave a little huff of irritation. ‘I beg your pardon. I was trying to be considerate.’ His hard look informed her quite clearly that he did not appreciate her efforts. She put up her chin. ‘If the wound has healed and there is no pain, why, then, does it affect your step?’ ‘Habit, I suppose. What does it matter? I do not go into society.’ ‘But that might change.’ ‘I think not.’ She gave up the argument and walked on at her normal pace. The major matched her stride for stride and Zelah hid a smile. A little furrow of concentration creased his brow, but he was no longer limping. ‘Your journey back was not too tiring, Nicky did not suffer overmuch?’ ‘Not at all. The new road is very smooth.’ She waved her hand at the lane. ‘It puts our own track to shame.’ ‘My engineer used a new method of road-building: smaller stones, tightly packed. It seems very good, but we shall see how well it wears.’ His glance shifted to her skirts and the band of damp around the hem. ‘You have not been keeping to the roads, I think?’ She laughed. ‘No, I have crossed a couple of very muddy fields. It was such a lovely day I could not bear to remain indoors a moment longer.’ ‘I suppose Nicky requires a great deal of attention. Your time cannot be your own.’ She was surprised by his concern. ‘You are not to be thinking I begrudge him a moment of it, nor Maria, but sometimes one likes a little time alone—but I have had that now,’ she said quickly, sensing his hesitation. She added shyly, ‘This last stretch is the least interesting, and I am always glad of company for it.’ The house was in sight. She called to the gardener’s boy to take the major’s horse to the stables and led him in through the front door, sending a footman running to fetch Maria. ‘Please come into the morning room, Major. My brother-in-law is out and will be sorry to have missed you, but my sister will be here directly.’ ‘Must I see her? I would rather you took me directly to see the boy.’ ‘You know I cannot do that. Besides, my sister will want to give you her thanks in person.’ He gave a little pout of distaste but the scar at the left side of his mouth distorted it into a full grimace. He muttered irritably that he wanted no thanks. Zelah felt a smile tugging her lips. ‘You sound very much like a sulky schoolboy, Major.’ She heard the door open and turned. ‘Ah, Maria, here is Major Coale come to visit Nicky, if you will allow it.’ Maria hesitated at the door, then smiled and came forward. ‘Major Coale, I am so delighted to meet you at last. I have heard so much about you from my son and I have been longing to thank you in person for taking such care of him.’ Watching him take her outstretched hand and bow over it gracefully, Zelah was aware of a little stab of jealousy that he had never saluted her in that way. ‘My husband is in Lesserton at present, Major, and I am sure he will regret that he is not here to greet you. However, he is looking forward to seeing you next week at dinner—you received my note, I hope?’ ‘I did, ma’am, and I am delighted to accept.’ ‘Reginald is at a meeting,’ said Zelah. ‘There is a dispute over the boundary between the villagers’ land and that belonging to Lydcombe Park. Have you heard about it?’ ‘Yes,’ he said indifferently. ‘I recall Netherby telling me something of it when he came to call.’ ‘Did he not tell you of the meeting?’ ‘He did, but it’s no business of mine.’ His tone was final and Maria was quick to change the subject. ‘Goodness, how the morning is flying! I am sure Nicky is anxious to see you, sir. Zelah, my love, perhaps you would escort Major Coale upstairs?’ ‘Oh—but I was about to retire to change my gown. It became sadly muddied during my walk …’ ‘Well, the major has already seen it and Nicky will not notice.’ Maria laughed aside her objections. ‘I must go and relieve Nurse—little Reginald will be waking up soon and demanding to be fed.’ She turned to smile at the major. ‘I shall say good-day to you now, sir, and look forward to seeing you here for dinner next week.’ Silently Zelah led the major away. The slight hesitation in his step had returned, but whether it was due to the exercise or the awkwardness of meeting his hostess she did not know and would not ask. Nicky’s face lit up when the major walked in. ‘I knew you would come!’ Nicky greeted him enthusiastically. ‘Did you doubt it, after you wrote me such a very polite letter?’ ‘It was Zelah’s idea. She helped me write it.’ ‘But the sentiments were all Nicky’s,’ she said quickly. The major turned towards her, amusement warming his hard eyes. ‘Including the invitation to call? I am quite cast down.’ Zelah flushed scarlet, but she was saved from finding a response by her nephew, who had spotted a packet protruding from the major’s coat pocket. ‘Is that a present for me, Major?’ ‘It is, sir. It is the travel backgammon set from Rooks Tower. Hannah told me how much you enjoyed using it so I thought you might like to have it. She sends you her best wishes, by the bye.’ Nicky gave a little crow of delight and immediately challenged the major to a game. ‘Oh now, Nicky, I am sure Major Coale is far too busy—’ ‘Major Coale has a little time to spare,’ Dominic interrupted her. ‘And my honour is at stake here—I cannot refuse a challenge!’ He nodded at her. ‘You may safely leave the boy with me for an hour, Miss Pentewan, if you wish to go and change your gown.’ ‘… and he stayed for a full two hours playing backgammon with Nicky. It was most good-natured of him. It left me free to look after baby and Zelah went off to write her letters.’ The family were at dinner and Maria was telling her husband about Major Coale’s visit. ‘Yes, I must say he struck me as very gentlemanly when I passed him on the road,’ said Reginald. ‘Quite a change from when I first made his acquaintance. Then he was looking very wild, but he is very much altered.’ He cast an amused glance at Zelah. ‘Having you in the house was a civilising influence, my dear.’ ‘Not that civilising,’ she responded. ‘I told him about your opposition to Sir Oswald’s plans for Prickett Wood and he was not at all interested in supporting you.’ Maria was inclined to be sympathetic. ‘One can hardly blame him, poor man. He is so hideously disfigured it must be a trial for him to go into society at all.’ Reginald paused, considering. ‘Do you really think him so repulsive, my love? I can’t say I really noticed his scar the last time I saw him.’ This response earned him a warm smile from his sister-in-law. ‘Well, of course, it was the first time I had seen him,’ said Maria. ‘But his manners are so polished and he is the son of a viscount. Once he has been to dinner and I have seen him a little more, I am sure I shall grow accustomed.’ A week went by and Zelah waited hopefully each day for a response to her advertisement for a position as governess. She had written it out in her best copperplate and sent it to the newspaper offices in Barnstaple and Taunton, but no replies were forthcoming. ‘Oh, my dear, perhaps it is not meant to be,’ said Maria, when Zelah explained this to her. ‘Can you not content yourself with living here? You know we are very happy to keep you with us.’ ‘Thank you, Maria, and I love being here as a guest, but it was never my intention to become your pensioner.’ Maria cried out at that, protesting that she would always be a guest, never a burden, but Zelah had seen Reginald poring over his accounts, she had heard him discussing with Maria the possibility of selling off some of their land to pay for Nicky to attend Mr Netherby’s school. Zelah did not mention it, merely saying cheerfully, ‘I do not despair—tomorrow I shall write another notice and send it off to the newspapers in Bristol and Bath. I am sure someone there must require a governess.’ ‘I am sure they do, love, but for now let us forget this plan of yours and look forward to this evening. Major Coale is coming to dinner, had you forgotten?’ Zelah had not forgotten, but for some reason she did not want to admit it and she was glad when her sister continued. ‘What will you wear, Zelah, the green robe you had made up last summer?’ ‘I thought I might put on my grey gown.’ ‘What?’ Maria sat up, scandalised. ‘That gown has done service for several years now and is very severe. You should save it to wear when you are interviewed by a prospective employer. No,’ she said decisively, ‘you will wear the green and I shall fetch out my Norwich shawl for you to drape over your arms, should the evening turn chilly.’ Maria sighed loudly. ‘There is certainly no reason for you to save your best silk any longer. If you are set upon finding work, then it is not at all suitable for a governess.’ Zelah hugged her. ‘Pray do not be sad for me, dearest sister. I think it is quite exciting, and if I find the children are just too abominable, I shall give it all up and come running home to you!’ When the dinner hour approached, Zelah ran lightly down to the drawing room, her silk skirts whispering as she moved. She had to admit there was something very uplifting about putting on a pretty dress. Maria had even sent her own maid to put up Zelah’s hair, restraining it by a matching green bandeau and leaving just a few loose curls tumbling artlessly to her shoulders. To complete the picture Zelah threaded a small jade cross on a green ribbon and tied it around her neck. ‘There,’ she told her reflection, ‘a picture of simple elegance. What does one need with diamonds and emeralds?’ The approving looks of her sister and brother-in-law raised her spirits even more and when Major Coale arrived she turned towards the door, her eyes sparkling and a smile of genuine welcome parting her lips. Dominic entered the room ready to bow and say all that duty required, but when his eyes alighted upon Zelah Pentewan he stopped, his brain refusing to function. In a matter of seconds he regained his composure, bowing to his host and greeting Mrs Buckland with the usual polite phrases, but all the time his brain was in turmoil. He had not been looking forward to the evening. He remembered his first meeting with his hostess, recalled her hesitation and the way her eyes travelled everywhere save to his face. He hoped she would soon recover from the habit, but it did not surprise him. It was always thus with a new acquaintance. Except Zelah, who had never shown any reluctance to look at him, save when he teased her or paid her compliments and made her blush. Gazing at her now, he wanted to shower her with compliments, for she looked quite charming. Her gown, which was the colour of new leaves, brought out the green flecks in those expressive eyes that now met his own and a delicate flush mantled her cheeks. She looked genuinely pleased to see him and for a moment his spirits soared. It had been a long time since any young woman had smiled at him in quite such a welcoming way, save those he had paid on rare occasions to spend the evening with him in a vain attempt to relieve his loneliness. Dominic quickly damped down his pleasure. Her smiles were nothing more than natural friendliness. No woman could ever be attracted to him now. So he retreated into the safety of his perfect society manners and quelled the impulse to hold her fingers an instant longer than was required, or even—as he really wanted—to kiss her hand. Dinner should have been a relaxed affair. Maria and Reginald were at pains to put their guest at ease and the major responded with perfect civility. There was very little for Zelah to do other than eat her food and enjoy the sound of his deep, well-modulated voice, yet she could not be easy. Every nerve end ached, her skin was so sensitive she wondered if it was perhaps some kind of fever, but when she touched her own cheek the skin was not unnaturally warm. Zelah wondered at her reaction and finally concluded she had lived retired for too long and had forgotten how to behave amongst strangers. At last Maria gave the signal to withdraw and the ladies left the men to their brandy. ‘I think it is going exceedingly well,’ said Maria, sinking into a chair and disposing her skirts elegantly around her. ‘Major Coale is very well read and Reginald was right, now that we have been in his company for a while I hardly notice his poor face at all. But you have been very quiet, Zelah my love. I would have thought the major’s knowledge of art and literature would have made him an interesting guest for you.’ ‘He is—that is, the conversation was flowing so well I didn’t like to—I mean, I could find nothing to add.’ ‘That is most unlike you, little sister.’ Maria patted her cheek. ‘I do believe you are a little shy of the major, but there is no need. Indeed, you should know him better than any of us. You must try to be a little more sociable. I assure you, Zelah, you have nothing to fear. He is perfectly harmless.’ But Major Coale did not feel perfectly harmless. Zelah could not explain it. Part of her wanted to stay near him, to engage him in conversation and at the same time she wanted to run away. It was most confusing. When the gentlemen came in she was prepared to make an effort to join in, but they were getting on so well that the conversation flowed quite easily without any contribution from herself and she remained beside her sister, a relieved and silent observer. Maria, however, was determined that she should participate more and when the tea tray was brought in she handed two cups to Zelah, instructing her to carry one to their guest. Bracing herself, Zelah moved across the room. Major Coale accepted the cup with a word of thanks, adding, as Reginald lounged away and they were left alone, ‘Buckland tells me Nicky is to go to school.’ ‘Yes. Mr Netherby teaches a small group of boys for a few hours each day and he has agreed to take him. It is as much for the company as anything.’ ‘And when does he start?’ ‘As soon as he is walking again, which should not be long now, he is making good progress.’ She sipped at her tea, trying to think of something to say. She wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, but that would be most improper, and unfortunately, everything else that came to mind was connected to their having dined together, a fact that must remain secret. ‘You are very quiet this evening, Miss Pentewan. Why is that? I know you are not afraid of me.’ The glinting smile in his eyes drew an answering gleam from her. ‘Not when I was on your land, certainly. But here …’ she glanced around ‘… I fear I am less at ease with you in these more formal surroundings.’ ‘That is singular—if anything you should feel safer here, with your family.’ She smiled. ‘You must think me very foolish.’ ‘Not at all. Have you found a suitable post yet, as a governess?’ ‘No, and it is very lowering. Maria ascribes it to my lack of experience.’ ‘She may well be right.’ ‘But I am very well qualified! Papa himself took charge of my education. He taught me French and mathematics and the use of globes—and he allowed me free access to his extensive library.’ She sighed. ‘But of course, apart from my nephew I have little experience of children.’ She turned her eyes upon him as a thought occurred to her. ‘I wonder perhaps if you have a young relative in need of a governess?’ He threw back his head and laughed at that. Zelah smiled, surprised at the little curl of pleasure it gave her, to have amused him so. ‘No, Miss Pentewan, I do not. I have only one sister, you saw her portrait. She is now married, but when she was younger she was such a minx that I have the greatest sympathy with every one of the poor ladies employed to instruct her.’ ‘Oh dear, was she so bad?’ ‘A perfect hoyden. She ran through at least a dozen governesses. Do not look so dismayed, ma’am, the Coales are renowned for being wild to a fault. Not all families will be as bad.’ ‘No-o.’ Zelah was not convinced. She gave herself a little shake. ‘I have not given up hope, Major. I have already sent off more advertisements. I am sure something will turn up.’ ‘Of course it will.’ He put down his cup. ‘It is growing late and I must get back.’ He rose and crossed the room to take his leave of his hostess. Zelah felt a deep sense of disappointment that he was going so soon, which was irrational, since she had avoided his company most of the evening. Nicky was making good progress. By the end of the week he was hobbling around the garden, showing off his heavily bandaged leg to all the servants. Zelah watched him from her bedroom window. He was in the garden, talking to the aged retainer employed to cut the lawn. She was too far away to hear what was being said, but she could imagine him recounting the tale of how he hurt his leg. The old man was leaning on his scythe and giving the boy his full attention, even though she was sure he would have heard the story several times over. She put her chin on her hands, smiling. Nicky had such a natural charm, no wonder everyone loved him. Reginald was taking him to join the vicar’s little school next week and she hoped the other boys would take to him. There was a knock at the door. ‘If you please, miss, Major Coale is here to see you.’ ‘Is my sister not available?’ The maid bobbed another curtsy. ‘He asked to speak to you, ma’am.’ ‘Oh.’ She turned to the mirror and picked up her brush, then put it down again. Without removing all the pins, brushing out her curls and pinning it all back up again, which would take far too long, there was not really much improvement she could make, save to tuck an escaping tendril behind her ear. Zelah pulled the neckline of her gown a little straighter, smoothed out her skirts and, after a final look in the mirror, made her way downstairs to the morning room. The major was standing by the window, his back to the room and his hands clasped behind him. ‘Good morning, Major Coale.’ He turned to face her, but with his back to the light Zelah could not read his expression. She said quickly, ‘Nicky is in the garden, sir, if you wish to see—’ ‘No, it is you I came to see,’ he interrupted her, his tone more clipped and curt than ever. She sank on to a chair. He ignored her invitation to sit down and took a turn about the room. Zelah waited in silence, watching him. His right leg was dragging and he was frowning, the crease of his brow making the scar running down his face even more noticeable. Zelah clasped her hands tightly together and waited. ‘Miss Pentewan.’ His shadow enveloped her as he stopped before her chair. Then, with a slight shake of his head, he took another turn about the room, saying as he walked, ‘You may think I should have spoken first to Buckland or perhaps to your sister, to sound them out on the matter, but you are of age, and knowing how you value your independence I decided to address you directly.’ Zelah dropped her gaze. There was a slight crease in her own brow now. Her heart was hammering so hard against her ribs she thought it might burst free at any moment. She hoped he would not expect her to speak, for her throat felt so tight she could hardly breathe. He approached, his steps thudding a soft, uneven tattoo on the carpet and soon she was staring at the highly polished toes of his topboots, yet still she could not look up. He cleared his throat again. ‘Miss Pentewan, I have a proposal for you.’ Chapter Four (#ulink_44e32310-75f4-5424-8929-d9ed7852ec1b) Zelah closed her eyes, waiting for the world to stop spinning. After a few deep breaths she opened her eyes, but could not bring herself to look up into the major’s face. Instead she fixed her gaze on the rather poor landscape painting on the wall. ‘A p-proposal, sir?’ Her voice was little more than a croak. ‘Yes.’ She jumped up and went to the window, her hands on her burning cheeks. What was she to say? Could this really be happening? She kept her back to him as he began to speak again. ‘You have honoured me with your confidence and informed me that you are seeking employment as a governess. I want to ask—that is, would you consider a rather … different form of employment?’ The heat and colour fled from her cheeks as swiftly as it had come. She wheeled around, this time firmly fixing her eyes upon his face. Her heart was still hammering but there was such a confusion of thoughts in her head that she felt sick. She swallowed, hard. ‘Just what are you offering me, Major?’ He looked uncomfortable. She found herself praying. Please do not let him say it. I cannot bear to think he would even ask … ‘Miss Pentewan, you will know I am alone at Rooks Tower.’ Her heart sank even lower. She clenched her hands together, closed her eyes and prepared her answer even as he continued. ‘I have been struggling for some weeks now but—madam, would you consider working as my archivist?’ ‘Sir, thank you, but I could not possibly—what?’ He shrugged. ‘Archivist, librarian, I am not sure what title you would use, but I need someone to put my books in order. Rooks Tower has a large library and I intend to make use of it. I have had the room decorated, but have done nothing about unpacking the books I brought with me from Markham. I have collected a great number of volumes over the years and transported them all here, but they are in no particular order. It is the devil of a job and with the summer coming on I need to be supervising the work outside as much as possible. I just haven’t the time …’ She blinked at him. ‘You … you want me to, to arrange your books?’ ‘Yes. Oh, I know it is not the type of work you were looking for, but from our discussions I received the impression that you were intent upon becoming a governess because that is the only respectable occupation available to a young woman.’ ‘Respectable, yes, and … I know nothing about organising a library!’ A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘You told me you knew nothing about children, but that has not stopped you advertising yourself as a governess. I need someone to sort out all those damn—dashed volumes.’ ‘But surely you should employ a scholar to do this, someone who understands the value of your collection—’ Again that grimace distorted his features. ‘I am not interested in its value, only that the books are recorded in some sort of order and that they are on the shelves and to hand when I want them. They are, in the main, useful books that I have collected.’ He took a turn about the room. ‘Besides, I do not wish to have a stranger in my house. No, madam, I want the library organised and all the books catalogued during the next few months. I see no reason why you could not walk over there every day and continue to live with your brother and sister.’ ‘I—I am not sure …’ He waved an impatient hand. ‘You need fear no impropriety. Mrs Graddon and the housemaids will be present and I spend most of my time out of doors. I am willing to pay you a total of fifty guineas for the work: twenty-five when you begin, and the rest once the library is complete. It should not take too long, two months, perhaps three at the most.’ ‘Then the remuneration you offer is far too generous.’ He shrugged. ‘I want it to be done, and soon. The cost is not important.’ Zelah shook her head, trying to think clearly. In the space of a few minutes her spirits had experienced ecstatic heights, deep despair and a fury of indignation, and all for nothing. He was offering her nothing more or less than a job of work. The major picked up his hat. ‘Perhaps you would like to consider it. Talk it over with your sister.’ ‘No,’ she answered him quickly. ‘No, I have made my decision.’ If she discussed this with Maria or Reginald they might well try to dissuade her, but here was an opportunity to earn her keep, albeit for a short time, and remain with her family. She squared her shoulders, raised her head and met his gaze. ‘I accept your offer, Major Coale.’ For a long, breath-stopping moment his eyes searched her face, then he smiled and she found herself responding, until he looked away from her. ‘Thank you, that is excellent news,’ he said crisply. ‘I see no reason for delay. Report to Rooks Tower on Monday morning!’ ‘My dear sister, have you lost your wits?’ Zelah gazed up at her brother-in-law, a laugh hovering on her lips. ‘Why should you think that? I have merely accepted a very lucrative engagement.’ She had kept the news of the major’s proposal until they were sitting together in the drawing room after dinner. She had hoped that a good meal would put Reginald in a more mellow mood, but her announcement was still met with a mixture of indignation and amazement. ‘You cannot accept,’ declared Maria. ‘It would be most improper.’ ‘But I have accepted and there will be nothing improper about the arrangement. Major Coale has already informed me that he spends his days out of doors.’ ‘For an unmarried lady to be alone in his house—’ ‘I shall not be alone, Reginald, I shall be surrounded by servants. Besides, who will know of it?’ ‘The whole of Lesserton by the end of the week,’ replied Reginald drily. ‘But it is a job of work. I shall continue to advertise for a position as a governess, but until then it will give me a measure of independence, and if the task takes only three months then I should be able to save a good proportion of my money against hard times.’ Zelah looked at her sister, begging her to understand. ‘I have been here long enough, Maria. I told you when I came I would not be your pensioner. Major Coale has promised to give me half my fee in advance. I intend to give some of it to you, to pay Nicky’s school fees.’ ‘But there is no need of that, Reginald and I have already agreed—’ ‘To sell the seven-acre field, I know.’ Zelah interrupted her. ‘I would much rather you took my money.’ ‘Never,’ cried Maria, pulling out her handkerchief. ‘I would not dream of taking your wages—’ Reginald held up his hand. ‘I think Zelah has a point,’ he said slowly. ‘To sell off the field would mean less return at harvest. If we keep it, we may well be able to repay your sister by the end of the year.’ Maria did not look convinced. She reached across and took Zelah’s hands. ‘Oh, my dear, for any young lady to take such a position, in the house of a man like Major Coale, would be to risk her reputation, but in your case—’ ‘In my case I have no reputation to risk.’ An uncomfortable silence followed Zelah’s bald statement. She withdrew her hands from her sister’s grasp and rose. ‘I made up my mind when I left Cardinham that I would support myself. I have caused my family enough sorrow and will not compound my guilt by allowing you to keep me.’ ‘But you might marry—’ ‘You know I have set my mind against marriage.’ ‘Oh, sister, pray do not say that—’ Reginald put up his hand to silence his wife’s protest. ‘My dear, Zelah is right,’ he said heavily. ‘Any man who formed an attachment would have to be told of her … unfortunate past.’ Zelah winced. ‘But if a man truly loved her—’ cried Maria, looking beseechingly at her husband. Zelah shook her head. ‘Of all the requirements a man may have when looking for a wife three things are paramount: good birth, good fortune and a spotless character. I am afraid I have only the first of those requirements. So you see, it is much better that I should learn to make my own way in the world.’ She smiled at them, knowing tears were not far away. ‘If you will only allow me to continue living here while I work at Rooks Tower, then I shall consider myself truly blessed.’ ‘Of course you may.’ Reginald came forwards to kiss her cheek. ‘We could not countenance you living anywhere else.’ ‘Good day to you, Miss Pentewan. The master said you was coming. I am to show you to the library.’ Despite having told herself that she did not expect the major to be at Rooks Tower to greet her, Zelah was disappointed. She followed the housekeeper through the hall, heading away from the main staircase and towards a pair of ornate double doors. Zelah expected to pass through into a grand reception chamber, but she was surprised to find herself enveloped in shadows. When her eyes grew accustomed to the gloom she could see that it was indeed a large room with a magnificent marble fireplace and intricate linenfold panelling on the walls, but each of the long windows was shuttered to within a few inches of the top, allowing in only enough light to see one’s way between the furniture. ‘The master instructed that these shutters should remain closed,’ explained the housekeeper. ‘This is the yellow salon and everything here is just as it was when Major Coale bought it, but he never uses it. One soon gets used to walking through the gloom.’ There was a tiny note of regret in the older woman’s voice. She had reached the far end of the room and threw open the doors. ‘This is where you will be working.’ The library was identical in size to the yellow salon, but here the morning light shone in through a series of long windows that filled one wall. The other three walls were lined with open bookcases in rich mahogany, their ranks broken only by the doors and the ornate chimney breast. A large desk and chair stood at one end of the room and a wing chair had been placed near the hearth, but the remaining floor space was taken up with a multitude of crates and boxes. ‘Goodness,’ murmured Zelah, her eyes widening. She felt a little tremor of excitement as she thought of all the books packed in the boxes. Who knew what treasures lay in store! ‘It is indeed a sorry mess,’ said Mrs Graddon, misinterpreting her reaction. ‘I’m sure you’ll soon begin to set it all in order. The master has left you new ledgers in the desk drawer and there’s pens, paper and ink, too. Graddon will send someone to help you with the boxes.’ She went away and Zelah stood for a few moments, wondering just where to start. She began by exploring the room, running her fingers along the smooth polished wood of the empty shelves and then over the cold marble of the fireplace. She moved across the room. The long windows with their low sills looked out on to a wide terrace where little tufts of grass sprouted between the paving. Beyond the stone balustrade the grounds sloped down to the river before the land rose again, the park giving way to woodland that stretched away as far as the distant hills. An idyllic setting, she thought, drinking in the peaceful tranquillity of the scene. Then setting her shoulders, she turned again to face the task ahead of her. When the clock on the mantelpiece chimed four o’clock Zelah looked up, surprised. She had no idea where the day had gone. Books were piled haphazardly on the shelves and several opened crates littered the floor. The volumes had been packed in no particular order, novels and religious tracts jostling with books on wild flowers and a furniture directory. She would have to go through them all before she could begin to catalogue them. The room looked even more chaotic now than when she had started, but it could not be helped. She tidied her desk and glanced around the room, mentally deciding just where she would begin tomorrow. Her eyes fell upon the small door in the far corner. The housekeeper had told her it led to the tower. Zelah stood for a moment, indecisive. Perhaps, while no one was about, she would take a quick peep at the tower. The door opened on to a small lobby where a steep, wooden stairway wound its way upwards. There was an air of neglect about the plain painted walls and worn treads, but the banister was firm enough and Zelah began to climb the stairs. A door on the first landing opened on to a storage room which was filled with old furniture. Zelah gave it only a cursory glance before moving on to the second floor. She found herself at last on a small landing. The wooden stairs gave way to a narrow stone spiral staircase at the side of which was a single door. Grasping the door handle, Zelah turned it, half-expecting it to be locked. It opened easily and she stepped into a room filled with sunlight. At first glance it seemed there were no walls, only windows from breast-height to ceiling, the leaded lights divided by thin stone mullions and giving an extensive view of the country in all directions. The only solid wall was behind her, surrounding the door through which she had entered and housing a small fireplace. There were just three pieces of furniture in the room: a mahogany pedestal desk and chair and a much older court cupboard pushed under one window, its well-worn top level with the sill. Zelah knew that such pieces had been designed to display the owner’s plate, a visible indication of wealth and status, but this cupboard was as empty as the desktop. There was nothing in the room to detract from the magnificent views. Zelah moved to the windows. From the first she could see right over the forest and vales towards Devon, from the next the road curled off towards Lesserton and the densely packed trees of Prickett Wood, while from a third she looked out across the park and woods of Rooks Tower to the uplands of Exmoor. She put her hands on the window ledge, drinking in the views. ‘There are no books up here, Miss Pentewan.’ Zelah jumped. Major Coale was standing in the doorway, his hat and riding crop in one hand. ‘Oh, I did not hear you come upstairs.’ She noted idly that his broad shoulders almost brushed the door frame on each side and was glad when he moved into the room and his size did not appear so daunting. She waved towards the window. ‘I was entranced by the view.’ ‘Obviously.’ ‘I hope you do not mind,’ she hurried on, her eyes searching his face for some softening of his expression. ‘I have done all I can in the library today and wanted to look at the tower and did not wish to disturb the servants …’ He placed his hat and crop on the cupboard. ‘And is this what you expected?’ he asked, drawing off his gloves. Her smile was spontaneous, any nervousness forgotten. ‘Not at all. I had not imagined the views would be so extensive. You can see all the way into the next county! It is such a lovely room. Imagine how wonderful to sit at this desk—why, in the summer you could work all day and never need to light a candle.’ She looked up at him. ‘Is this your desk, sir? Do you use this room?’ He shook his head. ‘This room is as it was when I bought Rooks Tower and so far this year I have been too busy putting the estate in order to worry overmuch about the interior.’ ‘I would like to use it.’ Zelah clasped her hands together, hoping her eagerness did not sound foolish. ‘I could bring the books up here to catalogue them. That way, once the library is tidy, you would be able to use it for your guests—’ ‘There are no guests,’ he said shortly. ‘But one day—’ ‘It is not my intention to invite anyone here. Ever.’ She felt the last word was added for her benefit. It was uttered with such finality that it gave her pause, but not for long. ‘Is … Would that be because of …?’ She touched her own cheek and saw him flinch. He turned slightly, presenting his undamaged side to her, his profile reminding her of how dangerously attractive he must once have been. ‘I did not move to Rooks Tower to be sociable,’ he said curtly. ‘My years as a soldier have left me impatient of society. Its values and petty tyrannies disgust me.’ ‘But you have family and friends, sir. Surely you will not cut yourself off from them so completely?’ ‘Damn you, madam, we are not here to discuss how I choose to run my life!’ Zelah recoiled from his angry retort. She bit her lip against further argument, but was not daunted enough to forget her original idea. ‘I beg your pardon, Major. Of course it is no business of mine. But I would like to make use of this room, if you will allow me.’ She waited for a moment, then added coaxingly, ‘I promise I will not let the view distract me from my work.’ His brow cleared. ‘The view is even better from the roof, especially on a fine day like this.’ She waited expectantly. His hard eyes glinted and she knew he had read her mind. ‘Would you like to see it?’ * * * Zelah followed him out to the landing and on to the spiral stair. It was only just wide enough for one person and she was obliged to hold up her skirts as she climbed the steep steps. A series of tiny windows sent shafts of dazzling sunlight across her path, making it difficult to see the next step. When they reached the top he threw open the door and the light flooded in. ‘Do you not keep it locked?’ ‘No need. My servants never come up here.’ He turned and reached down for her. ‘Give me your hand. There is no handrail and these last few stairs are uneven.’ His fingers curled around her hand, warm and secure as he guided her up the final steps to the roof. She found herself on a flat roof, paved over with stone slabs and surrounded by a crenellated parapet. ‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘I feel I am on top of the world.’ She became aware that the major was still holding her hand and looked up at him warily. Immediately he released her. She gazed out across the hills, her hands clutched against her breastbone. ‘Magnificent, isn’t it?’ He stood beside her, the rough wool of his jacket rubbing against her bare arm. ‘Do not go too near the edge and do not lean against the battlements,’ he warned her. ‘The stonework is in poor condition.’ ‘But you will repair it, won’t you, Major? I cannot bear to think that this view would be lost.’ She swung round and peeped up at him, trying and failing to suppress a smile. ‘Even though you are adamant you will not be having any guests here.’ The answering gleam in his eyes made her own smile grow and she gazed up at him quite unselfconsciously, thinking how much better he looked when he was not scowling at everyone and everything. In fact, she did not even notice his scarred face when he looked at her in just that way. The playful breeze tugged a lock of hair free from her sensible topknot and whipped it across her face. She was going to sweep it away, but Dominic’s hand came up first and his fingers caught the errant curl. Zelah held her breath. Their eyes were still locked, and instead of removing his hand after tucking the curl behind her ear, he allowed it to slip to her neck while he ran his thumb lightly along her jaw. Her heart began to pound against her ribs and she kept her hands clenched across her breast as if to prevent it breaking free. Her mouth dried. There was an almost forgotten ache curling inside her. Anxiety? Excitement? With his hand on her neck he held her as surely as if she was in chains. She could not move. Indeed, she did not want to move, she wanted him to lower his head and kiss her. She wanted to feel his hands undressing her, exploring her body. Oh dear heaven, where had such wanton ideas come from? Something of her thoughts flickered in her eyes and immediately he released her. Zelah switched her gaze to the view, trying to recall what they were saying. Ah, yes. She had been teasing him. Well, that was clearly a very dangerous thing to do. The major cleared his throat. ‘If you have seen enough, perhaps we should go back downstairs.’ ‘Yes.’ She was anxious to get away from his disturbing presence. ‘Yes, of course.’ She went carefully down the steep spiral, one hand on the wall. Her legs were shaking and she was very conscious of Major Coale following her down. When they reached the landing she hurried on to the wooden stairs, halting only when she heard the major’s voice behind her. ‘I have to collect my hat and whip. Feel free to make use of the room if you wish, Miss Pentewan. I have no objection.’ ‘Thank you.’ She forced the words out and glanced back at him. He was standing once again in the doorway, blocking the light and enveloping her in his shadow. Binding her to him by some force beyond her comprehension. Zelah gave herself a mental shake. Fanciful nonsense. She must not give in to it. She nodded, trying to sound businesslike. ‘If there is nothing else, sir, I shall go home now.’ ‘No, nothing.’ Dominic watched her hasten away. Her hand looked unsteady on the banister, but she descended the stairs without mishap and disappeared from sight. He exhaled, his breath hissing through his clenched teeth. He had not meant to frighten her, but when they were up on the roof and she stood before him, her eyes shining with excitement, he had felt the desire slam through him. He should have known better. He could have moved away, turned his back on her, but the craving to touch her was so strong that he had given in to it. Even now he could feel her skin beneath his thumb, soft as a flower petal. And she had not moved away. Petrified, he thought sourly, for an instant later he had seen the horror in her face. What if he had frightened her so much that she did not return tomorrow? Perhaps that would be for the best. She unsettled him, with her teasing and her challenging questions. He squared his shoulders. He was a soldier. He would not be beaten by this slip of a girl! They had an agreement and he would not be the one to break it. Let her come to Rooks Tower and organise his library. But perhaps it would be wise if he kept out of her way. The walk back to West Barton did much to calm Zelah’s disordered nerves. She had allowed herself to relax in Major Coale’s company. After all, one did not tease a gentleman, unless he was a relative, or a very close friend. Certainly one did not tease an employer. She must be more careful. No one knew better than she the consequences of becoming too familiar with a gentleman! Each evening at dinner Maria and Reginald asked Zelah about her day at Rooks Tower. They were naturally interested in her progress, but even more concerned about the behaviour of her employer. Each time Zelah was able to reply with complete sincerity that she had not seen Major Coale. For the first few days after the incident on the tower roof she was relieved that they did not meet, but gradually his elusiveness began to frustrate her. She had many questions to ask him and was obliged to leave notes, asking where he wanted certain books and how he would like them arranged. His answer, via the butler or Mrs Graddon, was always the same, ‘The master says to do as you think best and he will discuss it with you later.’ It was nearly two weeks before she saw Major Coale again. By that time she had removed all the books from their crates and was working on making a record of every title, bringing small piles of books to the large mahogany desk to list in one of the ledgers provided. It was a particularly sunny day and the room was uncomfortably warm, so Zelah had removed the fine muslin scarf from her shoulders and tossed it aside while she worked. She heard footsteps approaching and looked up, expecting to see Graddon or one of the footmen bringing refreshments, and she was taken by surprise when Major Coale strode in. He looked as if he had come direct from the stables; his hat was tucked under his arm and in one hand he carried his gloves and riding crop. His riding jacket hung open, displaying an embroidered waistcoat that fitted across his broad chest as snugly as the tight buckskins that covered his thighs. There was only the slightest drag on his right leg and his step was firm, brisk. He exuded energy. Nonplussed, Zelah reached for her scarf and quickly knotted it across her shoulders as she rose and came around the desk to greet him. His brows twitched together, the slight movement accentuating the ragged scar and deepening the unsmiling look into something resembling a scowl as they approached each other. Zelah tried not to feel intimidated. ‘Have you come to see how I progress?’ She summoned up a smile. ‘The rooms looks much better without all the boxes, I think.’ She waved her hand towards the bookshelves. ‘Of course, they are not yet in any great order, but this way it is easier to see just what books we have.’ She became more natural as she warmed to her theme. ‘I need you to tell me how you want them arranged. Are you happy to have sermons and music ranked alongside books on ratcatching, shoeing horses and draining bogs?’ She observed a definite glint of humour in his eyes, albeit reluctant. ‘I doubt if that is how you would place them. I think the last three should be grouped with estate management.’ ‘And your novels, Major? I thought to put them on these shelves, near your chair by the fire. They would be at hand then when you wish to sit in here and read.’ ‘That seems a good idea. You are not using the tower room?’ ‘No, not at present.’ The room held unsettling memories of the feelings he had roused in her. He tapped the riding crop against the palm of his hand as he glanced around the room, his expression unreadable. ‘I came to tell you that you will soon have more books arriving. A few months back I purchased the contents of Lydcombe Park Library. The books have been in storage with my man of business since the sale. They are in a number of large crates, too big for the pack ponies, but now the road is finished they can be brought here by wagon, as soon as I can spare the men to fetch them.’ ‘Oh. Well then, it is a good thing I have not yet put everything in order.’ She bent an enquiring gaze upon him. ‘Are these useful books, sir, or might we find more classical texts in this consignment?’ ‘I have no idea. I have never seen them.’ ‘So we may well have more than one copy of some titles, sir.’ ‘If that is the case then I shall leave it to you to decide which one to keep.’ His tone was cold, indifferent, and Zelah wondered if he was perhaps displeased with her way of working. She was framing the question in her mind when he reached out and flicked the edge of the muslin scarf. ‘If you covered up your charms for my benefit then you were wasting your time, Miss Pentewan. I have no interest in hired staff.’ His words hit Zelah with the shock of cold water. She was rendered speechless, but thankfully she was not expected to respond. The major turned on his heel and marched out. Zelah retreated to the desk and sank down on the chair, shaking. He had seen her put the scarf about her, was that the reason for his brusque manner? Had he taken her action as an insult? She shook her head. It had been a defensive gesture to cover her bare neck and shoulders, because she did not want him to think she was flaunting herself. He had taken it as a personal slight, as if she thought he had designs upon her virtue. She could have laughed, if she had not been so angry. Slowly, with trembling hands, she began to pack up. She would do no more today. Chapter Five (#ulink_d50dae8e-3813-5df7-afe7-79b1a7817af6) Zelah set off across the grass, heading for the woodland path that led directly to West Barton. She had not gone far before she heard the major calling her name. She stopped and turned to see him striding towards her. ‘Where are you going?’ ‘Home.’ She waited for him to come up to her. ‘It is still early.’ She looked away from his hard, searching gaze. ‘I have done enough for today.’ ‘You are angry with me.’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Because I accused you of covering your … charms?’ ‘It was uncalled for, uncivil and unnecessary.’ She added more quietly, ‘I thought you knew me better than that.’ He was her employer, he could dismiss her if he objected to her comments, but she did not regret her words. ‘You are quite right. I was very rude. What can I do to make amends?’ She did not hesitate. ‘I would like you to show a little more interest in your library. I have no idea if you are happy with my work so far, if it meets with your approval. You have not been near the library until today.’ ‘On the contrary, I visit the library every evening.’ ‘Oh.’ ‘Yes, Miss Pentewan. I am taking a close interest in your progress, but I visited West Barton last week, to enquire after Nicky. Your brother-in-law considers your employment at Rooks Tower nothing short of scandalous. I thought by taking myself out of the house every day it would mitigate the impropriety.’ ‘Some would still consider it improper if you were to take yourself out of the country while I am working for you! It is unfortunate that my brother-in-law does not approve but he understands my desire for independence. The fact that he has not thrown me out of the house shows he is prepared to put up with my “scandalous” behaviour, even if he cannot condone it.’ She had hoped he might smile at this, but when he did not she added impatiently, ‘For heaven’s sake, you have some rare books in your collection. Pine’s Horace, for example, and Hooke’s Micrographia.’ She exhaled through clenched teeth. ‘You have engaged me to work for you, Major, and I would much rather discuss matters directly with you than be forever passing messages via Mrs Graddon.’ At last his forbidding frown was lightened. There was a glimmer of understanding in his hard eyes. ‘Very well, Miss Pentewan. I will make efforts to be available. Starting tomorrow.’ ‘Thank you. I will bid you good day, sir.’ ‘You are still going?’ ‘Of course.’ ‘Then I will walk with you.’ One side of his mouth quirked at her look of surprise. ‘I know what you are thinking: I am now taking too great an interest in my hired staff. You would like to throw my earlier comments in my face.’ ‘I am not so impolite.’ ‘Unlike me?’ ‘Yes, I thought you impolite.’ ‘Pray do not let yourself be constrained by your good breeding, Miss Pentewan. Rip up at me, if you wish, you have my permission!’ A smile tugged at her mouth. ‘It would be no more than you deserve.’ ‘I am aware of that. So let me make amends now by walking to the edge of my land with you.’ She gave in, nodding her assent, and he fell into step beside her. ‘You walk this way every day?’ ‘Yes. It is much the quickest route.’ ‘Then you have seen the changes. I have cleared the paths and thinned out the trees—that was what I was doing when I first met you and Nicky in the woods.’ She remembered her first sight of him. A bearded woodsman, his hair long and wild and with a fearsome axe at his side. It was a powerful image that remained with her, even if the major looked so much more civilised now. ‘You have done much of the work yourself, I think.’ ‘Yes. I like to keep active.’ ‘And it sets your people a good example.’ ‘There is that, too.’ They were walking through the woods now and Zelah could see the signs of clearance everywhere, but new growth was already appearing, bright splashes of green pushing up from the ground. The Major raised his hand to acknowledge a woman and her children coming through the trees. The woman dipped a slight curtsy, then she murmured a word to the children, who tugged at their forelocks. ‘You do not mind the villagers coming here to collect their firewood?’ He shrugged. ‘Once we have cut up the logs and taken them away they are welcome to anything that is left, although Phillips, my keeper, tells me there has been a marked increase in the number of people coming into the woods of late.’ ‘The villagers no longer have access to Prickett Wood,’ explained Zelah. ‘Reginald tells me the new owner is going to fence it off. Do you know Sir Oswald?’ ‘A nodding acquaintance only.’ ‘But I thought his land borders your own.’ ‘Not quite, so I have had no reason to make contact with Sir Oswald. I told you, I do not socialise, Miss Pentewan.’ ‘Perhaps you should.’ She screwed up her courage. ‘People would soon grow accustomed to your … to your scars.’ His short bark of laughter held more than a touch of bitterness. ‘I would be accused of frightening the children.’ ‘No! Think of Nicky.’ ‘A lonely child, desperate for company. When he is with his new school friends I doubt he will be as keen to acknowledge me.’ ‘That is not true, he is proud to be acquainted with you.’ ‘Kind words, ma’am, but I fear you know very little of human nature. But it is not just that.’ He paused, and, glancing up, she saw him gazing into the distance, as if looking into another world. ‘Spain was a very sobering experience for me, Miss Pentewan. There is no glory in war, in all the death and carnage that takes place, but I found the life infinitely preferable to what I had been before—a rake, a fop, whose only interest was to wear a fashionable coat and flirt with all the prettiest women. That is what society expects of a gentleman, madam, and I want none of it now.’ ‘But the people here are not fashionably idle, Major Coale. There are many good, hardworking men who want nothing more than to better themselves and their families.’ ‘Then good luck to them, but they shall not do so on my coat-tails.’ ‘That is not what I meant—’ ‘Enough!’ They had reached the lane that separated Major Coale’s land from the gardens of West Barton. Dominic stopped. ‘I am a lost cause, Miss Pentewan. I will live my own life, in my own way. I have no wish to consort with my neighbours, and there’s an end to it.’ He looked up. ‘We part here.’ She said impulsively, ‘Even so, there is no reason why you should not treat your wounds. There is a cream, a herbal remedy, it is excellent for softening the skin—’ ‘I want none of your potions, madam!’ ‘It is not a potion, but it might help.’ ‘I hired you as my librarian, not my doctor.’ He glowered at her. ‘Do not push me too far.’ The implacable look in his eyes told her she must accept defeat. For the moment. As a child she had accompanied her father when he visited his parishioners. They had met with pride and stubbornness many times, but her father’s message had always been the same. Where Zelah had been inclined to argue, he would stop her, saying gently, ‘Let the matter lie for now, but never give up.’ She therefore swallowed any retort and merely inclined her head. ‘Thank you, sir, for your company.’ He bowed. ‘It was a pleasure. Until tomorrow.’ It was only a step across the lane to the little wicket gate leading to the gardens, but when Zelah turned to latch the gate there was no sign of the major. He had disappeared back into the woods. Zelah always enjoyed her days at Rooks Tower, but when she awoke the following morning she felt an added sense of anticipation. A blustery wind was blowing the grey clouds across the sky when she set out. It tugged at her skirts and threatened to whip away her bonnet. She arrived at last, windswept but exhilarated, and made her way through the darkened salon to the library. She looked around her with satisfaction. Most of the books were on the shelves now and in a rough order. She had dusted and cleaned each one, putting aside any that required repair. She was engaged in writing the details in the ledgers, in her neat copperplate hand, when the major came in. ‘No, no, do not get up.’ He waved her back into her seat. ‘Carry on with your laborious task. I would not give you an excuse to shirk your duties.’ He perched himself upon the edge of the desk and turned the ledger to inspect the latest entries. She was pleased that he no longer attempted to present only his right side to her and she laughed up at him, barely noticing the jagged line running down his face. ‘I am obliged to break off now and again to rest my eyes, so I consider your interruption very timely.’ ‘If this were my job I would welcome any interruption. It would irk me beyond bearing to sit here all day.’ He pushed the ledger back towards her. ‘Do you not long to be out of doors?’ A spatter of rain hit the windows and she chuckled. ‘Not when the weather is like this! When the sun is shining I admit it is very tempting to go out, but then I open the windows, and I have my walk home to look forward to.’ ‘There is that, of course. Now, is there anything you want of me today?’ ‘Only to look at the books I have set aside, sir, and tell me if you want them repaired or thrown away …’ She directed his attention to the books piled on a side table. The major went through them with the same decisiveness he gave to every other task she had seen him perform. ‘So, these are to go to the bookbinder for new covers and the rest …’ Zelah paused, picking up a dilapidated copy of Newton’s Principia. ‘Are you quite sure you want me to throw these away?’ ‘Perfectly. The book you are holding has been ruined by damp and misuse, it is beyond repair.’ Reluctantly Zelah put the book down and he gave an impatient sigh. ‘Pray do not get sentimental over such an object, madam. There may well be another copy amongst the books from Lydcombe Park. If not, then you can order a new one for me.’ ‘Yes, sir. May I pass the old ones on to Mr Netherby? Some of his pupils might make use of them.’ ‘If that is what you wish.’ He picked up a small earthenware jar hidden behind a pile of books. ‘What is this?’ ‘That?’ Zelah ran her tongue over her lips. ‘It is the cream I mentioned to you.’ His brows snapped together and she hurried on. ‘I, um, I was going to give it to Graddon. I thought he might apply it for you …’ ‘Did you now? Graddon is no nursemaid.’ She sighed. ‘Pity. I am sure it would help—’ He interrupted her with a growl. ‘I have told you before, Miss Pentewan, confine yourself to your library duties!’ The jar hit the table top with a thud and he strode off, closing the door behind him with a decided snap. The jar remained on the side table for three days. It was studiously ignored by the major, although Zelah was sure he knew it was there. Then, just when she was beginning to wonder if she should ask Graddon to try to persuade his master, Major Coale made reference to it. He had come in for his daily report on her progress and when she had finished he walked over to the side table and picked up the jar. ‘What is in this witch’s potion of yours?’ ‘It is no witchcraft, Major, only flowers. Marigold petals, mixed with oil and wax to make a salve. It will help repair the skin and soften the scar tissue. My mother used to prepare it for our parishioners.’ She added coaxingly, ‘I assure you it will not hurt, sir. I helped Mama to apply it often, once to a group of miners injured in a pit collapse. Their injuries were severe and they said it did not cause any pain, but on the contrary, it was quite soothing.’ His inscrutable gaze rested on her for a moment. ‘Very well.’ He handed her the pot. ‘Let us see.’ She blinked. ‘I beg your pardon?’ He perched himself on the edge of the desk. ‘Apply your magic potion, and we will see how well it works.’ ‘Apply it here? Now?’ Zelah swallowed. ‘I am not sure …’ ‘Damnation, Delilah, I let you be my barber, surely you do not balk at touching my face—or is the scar too abhorrent?’ ‘Not at all, sir.’ She opened the jar and scooped a little of the ointment on to her fingers. She remembered how she had felt when she had cut his hair, standing so close, aware of his latent strength. She felt again as if he was some wild beast allowing her to come near, but at any minute he might turn and savage her. After a very slight hesitation she applied the cream gently to his cheek. She smoothed it across the skin, working between the hard ridges of his cheekbone and his jaw. ‘There, does that feel better?’ He grunted and she chuckled. ‘Pray do not be ashamed to admit it. A mixture such as this soothes the damaged skin and makes it flexible again, in the same way that wax will soften leather.’ ‘Are you comparing my face to a boot, madam?’ Zelah laughed as she massaged the ointment into his cheek. ‘I would not dare be so impertinent!’ She felt him smile beneath her fingers. ‘Oh, I think you would.’ She did not reply, but continued to work her fingers over his skin until all signs of the cream had disappeared. ‘The sabre did not only cut my face. It slashed open my body, too.’ Zelah stopped. She said gently, ‘May I look?’ He untied his neckcloth and tugged it off, leaving his shirt open at the neck. Zelah pushed aside the material to expose his left shoulder. The skin was golden brown, tanned, she guessed, from working shirtless on the land. It was marred by a wide, uneven white line across his collarbone and cutting down his chest, where it carved a path through the covering of crisp black hair. Her heart lurched at the thought of the pain he must have endured. She forced back a cry of sympathy, knowing it would not be welcome. Instead she tried to be matter-of-fact, scooping up more cream and spreading it gently across the ragged furrow of the wound. ‘It is a pity you did not rub something in this sooner,’ she said, absorbed in her task, ‘but it is not too late. If you apply this regularly, it will soften the skin and help the scarred tissue to stretch.’ She worked the ointment into his skin, moving over the collarbone and down to his breast. A smattering of black hair curled around her fingers as she stroked the finely toned muscle. Zelah could not say exactly when the change in the atmosphere occurred, but suddenly the air around her was charged with tension and she realised just what a perilous situation she was in. Not merely the impropriety of being alone with a man who was not her husband, but the dangerous sensations within her own body. She concentrated on the skin that she was covering with ointment, forcing herself to think of that small area of scarring and not the whole body. Not the man. It was impossible. She should stop, move away, but she could not. Of their own accord her fingers followed the scar across the solid breastbone and on, down. Dominic’s hand clamped over hers. ‘That will do.’ His voice was unsteady. ‘Perhaps I should finish this myself. Later.’ Zelah blushed, consumed from head to toe with fiery embarrassment. ‘I … um …’ She had to take a couple of breaths before she could continue. ‘It is best applied every day, and directly after bathing.’ She tried to look up, but could only lift her eyes as far as his mouth. The faint, upward curve of his lips was some comfort. He released her hand. ‘You are far too innocent to be Delilah, aren’t you?’ She dare not meet his eyes. Her cheeks were still burning. She put the lid back on the jar and handed it to him. ‘It was never my wish to be such a woman.’ ‘No, of course not. You are far too bookish.’ He pushed himself off the desk and picked up his neckcloth. ‘I must go. I want to see Phillips today about restocking the coverts.’ Zelah glanced towards the window as another shower of rain pattered against the glass. ‘Should you not wait until the storm passes?’ ‘Why? It will not harm me. In fact, I think I would welcome a cold shower of rain!’ With a brief nod he strode out of the room and as his hasty footsteps disappeared so the calm and silence settled over the library again. Zelah sat down at the desk and dropped her head on to her hands. So she was ‘too bookish’ to be Delilah, the beautiful temptress. She should be pleased that Dominic did not think of her in those terms, and she was pleased, wasn’t she? With a sinking heart Zelah realised that she was just a little disappointed. * * * Zelah’s working days had developed a regular pattern. Major Coale would visit the library every morning to discuss the day’s tasks. Whenever he was obliged to be out early he would leave her instructions and call in to see her as soon as he had returned to Rooks Tower. Their meetings were brief and businesslike, but Zelah looked forward to them and when, two weeks later, the major left word that he was gone to Exeter and would not be back until the following day, she was surprised at the depth of her dissatisfaction. The following day saw the delivery of the books from Lydcombe Park. She was reluctant to spoil the space and tidiness of the library and ordered some of the crates to be taken up to the tower room. Unpacking all the new books and arranging for the empty crates to be taken away kept Zelah occupied for most of the day. She was buttoning her pelisse when she heard a familiar step approaching the library and she turned towards the door, her spirits rising. Major Coale came in, his boots still muddy from the journey, and she was unable to keep the smile of welcome from her face. His first words were not encouraging. ‘What, Miss Pentewan, going already? I heard that the books from Lydcombe Park had been delivered. Surely that is a case for working longer.’ ‘And so I would, sir, but I am walking to Lesserton today, to collect Nicky from his lessons.’ ‘Then I shall take you there in the curricle.’ ‘But you have just this minute come in …’ ‘From riding, madam, a very different exercise. You may show me just what you have done with the books while we wait for my carriage.’ Unable to muster her arguments, Zelah consented and ten minutes later she was sitting beside the major in his sleek, low-slung racing curricle and marvelling at the smooth new road he had built. They had to slow their pace when they joined the Lesserton road, but they still made good time and soon reached the village. They were heading for the main street and, seeing how busy it was, Zelah glanced at the major. He was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, tilted to shadow the left side of his face, so that his scarred cheek and chin were barely visible. She was pleased to note that the majority of the men touched their caps and the women dropped a curtsy as they bowled past. Some children and one or two of the adults stopped to stare, but she decided this was due to the unusual sight of a fashionable carriage with a diminutive groom perched upon the rumble seat. ‘Where shall I drop you?’ enquired the major. ‘Here, if you please. I am still a little early, so I shall indulge myself by looking in the shops on Market Street before I collect Nicky. You have no need to hand me out, I can easily jump down.’ She suited the action to the words as the curricle drew to a stop and gave a friendly little wave as Major Coale set his team in motion again. The morning clouds had given way to a warm, sunny afternoon and when Nicky came running out from the vicar’s rambling house she persuaded him to take a detour before they made their way home. They were just setting off when Nicky gave a delighted cry. ‘Major Coale!’ Zelah looked up to see the major approaching. She noted with no little satisfaction that there was now only the faintest irregularity in his purposeful stride. ‘Good day to you, Master Nicholas! How do you go on, how is your leg?’ ‘Much better now, Major. Zelah wants to see the bluebell woods, so I am going to take her. Will you come with us?’ ‘Nicky!’ Her admonition went unheeded. Nicky gazed hopefully at the major, who replied gravely, ‘I would be delighted.’ Zelah shook her head vehemently. ‘No, no, I am sure you must have more important things to do.’ ‘As a matter of fact I don’t. Sawley noticed that one of the horses has a shoe loose and he is now at the smithy, so I was coming to say if you do not mind waiting a half-hour or so I would take you back to West Barton.’ ‘You would take us up in your curricle?’ demanded Nicky, his eyes wide. ‘In your racing curricle?’ ‘I only have the one, I’m afraid, but it is perfectly safe, as your aunt will testify.’ ‘That is very kind of you, I’m sure, Major Coale,’ said Zelah, realising it would be cruel to withhold such a treat from Nicky. ‘However, there is no need for you to accompany us on our walk.’ ‘But Major Coale wants to come with us, don’t you, sir?’ ‘I do indeed.’ Zelah looked helplessly from one to the other. Major Coale held out his arm to her. ‘Shall we proceed?’ There was no help for it. She laid her hand on the major’s sleeve. ‘Maria told me about the woods,’ she explained as they followed Nicky along the lane that led out of the village. ‘She said the bluebells are a picture, but for only a short time each year. I do hope we won’t be too late, we are well into May now.’ ‘We shall soon find out.’ Nicky had scrambled over a stile and the major followed, turning back to help Zelah. ‘Careful, there is a ditch on this side and it is a little muddy.’ As Zelah stepped over he reached out and lifted her, putting her down well away from the muddy puddle at the foot of the stile. A hot, fiery blush spread through her, from her head right down to her toes. Whether it was his hands on her waist, or the feeling of helplessness as he held her she did not know and, what was worse, she instinctively gripped his arms, so that when he had placed her on the ground he could not immediately release her, but stood looking down at her with a smile lurking in his grey eyes. ‘Are you ready to go on, Miss Pentewan?’ She swallowed. So many new and shocking sensations were coursing through her that she could not think. Her hands were still clutching at his sleeves and, instead of letting go, she wanted to hold on even tighter. It took all her willpower to release him and to step back. ‘Y-you startled me,’ she stammered. ‘I could quite easily have climbed over by myself …’ ‘I’m sure you could, but my way was much more pleasurable, don’t you think?’ His self-possession annoyed her. ‘Are you trying to flirt with me, Major Coale?’ ‘Do you know, I think I am.’ He laughed. ‘How strange. I used to do it all the time before that damned chasseur tried to cut my face off. I beg your pardon, it was unwittingly done.’ Disarmed by his response, her anger melted away and she chuckled. ‘That has pricked the bubble of my self-esteem! What an abominable thing to say.’ ‘Not at all. It was, in a way, a compliment. I have not felt so at ease in anyone’s company since I came back to England.’ ‘Then I will take it as such, sir.’ She met his eyes, responding to the warm smile in his own and forgetful of everything else until he looked away. ‘Nicky is almost out of sight. Shall we continue? Else I fear he will abandon us and we will be left to wander these woods all night.’ Zelah moved on, ignoring his proffered arm. She was shocked to realise just how much she would like to be wandering here all night with Major Coale. Nicky had stopped at a turn in the path to wait for them and as they reached him Zelah gave a little gasp of pleasure. The woodland stretched before them, the sun filtering through the lacy canopy of leaves onto the floor, which was covered in a thick carpet of bluebells and wild garlic. ‘Oh, how beautiful!’ She sank down, putting out her hands to brush the delicately nodding bluebells. ‘They are at the very peak of their bloom. I think we should pick some for you to take back to your mama, Nicky—make sure you pick them at the bottom of the stem, love.’ She began to collect the tallest flowers and within minutes had a large bunch, then Nicky handed her his contribution. ‘Goodness, that was quick!’ She rested the delicate blooms more securely on one arm and looked towards the major, who was still standing on the path. ‘What do you think, Major, are they not beautiful?’ He did not respond, merely stared at her across the dell. ‘Oh, I beg your pardon. Perhaps you are wishing to turn back, it must be growing late.’ ‘We don’t have to turn back,’ said Nicky. ‘The path curves round by Prickett Wood and goes back to the village. It’s not far.’ The major cleared his throat. ‘Let us go on, then.’ Nicky ran on ahead, but when the major began to stride out Zelah had to hurry to keep up with him. ‘I am sorry if we have delayed you, Major.’ ‘It is not important.’ She frowned at his harsh tone, but said no more, concentrating her energies on hurrying along beside him. They left the wood and found themselves on a wide track running between the trees. ‘I remember this,’ declared Zelah. ‘The road leads into Lesserton and the trees to our left lead into Prickett Wood, so you can be back at the smithy very soon now, sir.’ He did not reply and she gave a mental shrug. The easy camaraderie with which they had started out had gone and she tried to be glad about it, for when Major Coale chose to be charming she found him very hard to resist. She turned her attention to Nicky, running ahead of them, darting in and out of the trees, fighting imaginary foes. He seemed much happier now that he was spending some of his time at Mr Netherby’s school. He did not appear to miss her company at all. Nicky plunged into the undergrowth at the side of the road and she waited for him to reappear, but he had not done so by the time they reached the point where he had dashed off the path. She was about to remark upon this to her companion when they heard a man shouting, as if in anger. ‘What the devil—?’ The major followed the narrow overgrown track into the wood and Zelah went after him, a chill of anxiety running down her spine. They heard the man’s voice again. ‘What in damnation do ye think you’re doing here? Trespassin’, that’s what! I’ll give ‘ee what for!’ ‘Take your hands off the boy!’ The major barked out the command as they came into a small clearing. Nicky was wriggling helplessly while a burly man in a brown jacket and buckskins held his collar. The man had raised his fist but he did not strike, instead he glared at them. ‘And who the devil might you be?’ ‘Never mind that. Unhand the boy. Now.’ ‘That I won’t. He’s trespassin’. This is Sir Oswald’s land and no one’s allowed in here.’ ‘The boy strayed a few yards off the path. He’s done no harm.’ The major’s cool authority had some effect. The man lowered his fist, but he kept a tight grip on Nicky’s collar. He said stubbornly, ‘He’s still trespassin’ and so are you. I have me orders, thrash any brats that comes into the wood—’ The major advanced. ‘Then you will have to thrash me first.’ The man scowled, his harsh features becoming even more brutish. ‘Aye, well, then that’s what I’ll do.’ ‘No, please!’ Neither man heard Zelah’s cry. There was another shout and a tall, thick-set man pushed through the bushes towards them. He was carrying a shotgun, but Zelah was relieved that he was not threatening anyone with it. ‘What is going on here? Miller? Who the devil are these people?’ ‘Trespassers, Sir Oswald. They—’ The major interrupted him. ‘I am Coale, from Rooks Tower. If this is your man, then I’d be pleased if he’d unhand my young friend.’ ‘Major Coale, aye, of course. Let the boy go, William.’ Reluctantly the man released his grip and Nicky tore himself free and ran over to Zelah, clutching at her skirts. Sir Oswald watched him, then looked at Zelah, giving her a rueful smile. ‘I beg your pardon if my bailiff frightened your boy, ma’am, but I have been having a great deal of trouble from the village children running in and out of the woods at all times, causing havoc.’ ‘Mayhap they dispute your ownership of these woods,’ put in Dominic. ‘These are ignorant folk, Major. Just because they have been allowed to use the land in the past they think they have a right to it, but it ain’t so. I have to keep ‘em out.’ ‘By beating small boys who wander inadvertently onto your land?’ The major’s lip curled. ‘Your methods are a little extreme.’ ‘But what can I do?’ Sir Oswald shrugged. ‘We are culling the deer and I would not want to risk shooting anyone.’ He looked back at his bailiff. ‘It’s all right, Miller, you may go back to your work, I’ll escort these good people back to the lane.’ Sir Oswald stretched out his arm, as if shepherding them along. Zelah took Nicky’s hand and led him away. Behind her she could hear Sir Oswald’s voice. ‘I do not say I like appearing the ogre, Major, but I have to protect my own, and these people are very stubborn. Is it any wonder that Miller has become a little … hardened? But he knows his territory. Believe me, no one will come to any harm as long as they stay off my land.’ ‘I do believe we have been warned off,’ murmured Dominic, when they were once more on the path and making their way back to the village. ‘What a horrid man.’ Zelah shivered. ‘Heaven knows what would have happened to Nicky if we had not been there.’ ‘He has no right to shoot the deer,’ declared Nicky, who was recovering from his ordeal. ‘They have been there for ever, and it’s not his land.’ ‘Well, that is what your papa is trying to prove.’ Zelah squeezed his hand. ‘I hope he is successful. I do not like to think of Sir Oswald riding roughshod over everyone.’ ‘There must be documents,’ said Dominic. ‘Papers stating what belongs to the village.’ ‘There are, but they are old and not very clear.’ ‘Robin says it’s to do with the boundary stones,’ said Nicky. ‘Oh?’ Zelah glanced down. ‘And who is Robin?’ ‘He’s my friend.’ ‘Another one?’ The major’s brows lifted. ‘I thought I was your friend.’ ‘Robin is a different friend. He lives in the woods.’ ‘Ah, you mean the crow catcher.’ Dominic turned to Zelah to explain. ‘There is an old man who is paid to do odd jobs around the village, trapping crows or catching moles, helping out at lambing. In winter I believe he lives with his sister in the village, but during the better weather he has a hut on the edge of the forest. I did not know he was a friend of yours, Nicky.’ ‘Oh, yes. Sometimes he lets me go hunting with him, sometimes we just follow the deer, to watch them.’ ‘Well, you had best warn this friend to avoid Sir Oswald Evanshaw’s land,’ said Zelah. ‘I don’t think that bailiff of his would think twice about giving an old man a beating.’ ‘They won’t catch Robin,’ said Nicky confidently. ‘He knows everything about the land here.’ They had reached the village and the major’s groom was standing with the curricle outside the smithy, waiting for them. Nicky forgot everything save the excitement of climbing into this elegant equipage, where he sat between Zelah and the major as they drove back to West Barton. Zelah glanced at the bluebells, still cradled on her arm. ‘I almost dropped them all when we ran into Sir Oswald and his horrid bailiff, but I am very glad I did not. They are beginning to droop a little, but I think they will recover, do not you, Major?’ He took his eyes off the road for a moment to look at the mass of nodding bells. ‘I am sure they will. You have a knack of reviving wilting spirits, Miss Pentewan.’ It was only natural that Nicky should describe the events in Prickett Wood to his parents. Maria had been outraged at the treatment of her son and Reginald immediately called for his horse and rode off to confront Sir Oswald. The ladies waited anxiously for his return and Maria was just suggesting they should put dinner back an hour when Reginald came in, a frown darkening his usually genial features. ‘Oh, my dear, I was beginning to worry that you might have come to blows.’ Maria ran to her husband and took his arm, coaxing him to a chair. ‘He could not have been more accommodating, damned scoundrel. Apologised profusely, said his man, Miller, was over-zealous.’ ‘So it will not happen again?’ Zelah enquired. Reginald’s scowl darkened. ‘Damned rascal had the nerve to say he hoped I’d be able to keep my family away from his land, because he’s putting mantraps in Prickett Wood!’ Chapter Six (#ulink_79bb7e7c-c528-5a9c-9af4-788eb549919b) Zelah was present when Reginald explained the situation to Nicky, impressing upon his son how important it was that he did not stray on to Sir Oswald’s land. ‘But Prickett Wood isn’t his land, it belongs to the village,’ Nicky protested vehemently. ‘Robin says so!’ ‘And I hope it is so, but until we can prove it, you must stay away. A mantrap can take a man’s leg off, Nicky, it is a barbaric device.’ ‘But what about Robin, Papa? What about the villagers?’ ‘Sir Oswald tells me he will post notices in Lesserton and at the edge of the wood. You must not worry about Robin, son, he’s too wily an old bird to be caught. As to the rest, well, we have a lawyer coming down from London in a few weeks’ time and he is bringing with him a copy of the royal charter. We must hope that settles the matter once and for all.’ Maria declared that if Reginald was not available to take his son to school and back then a servant should accompany him. She tried to insist that Zelah should take a servant with her to Rooks Tower each day, but the suggestion was energetically rebuffed. ‘My dear sister, your people have more than enough to do without accompanying me. Besides, my way goes nowhere near Sir Oswald’s land. I cross from the gardens directly into Major Coale’s woods.’ ‘Who knows what danger may lurk there?’ Maria muttered darkly. Zelah dismissed her sister’s concerns and happily made her way to Rooks Tower the following day, and she was somewhat surprised when Major Coale announced that he intended to accompany her on her homeward journey. ‘I assure you there is no need, sir.’ ‘But I insist, Miss Pentewan.’ ‘This is absurd,’ she challenged him. ‘There can be no danger from Sir Oswald or his men on your land.’ Something akin to surprise flashed in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. ‘One never knows,’ he replied glibly, falling into step beside her. ‘But you are far too busy!’ ‘Not today. I have spent the day giving instructions for the refurbishment of the orangery. The carpenter knows what to do now and I would only be in the way. Come, Miss Pentewan. Do not look so mutinous. Can you not accept my company with good grace?’ ‘I suppose I must.’ He laughed. ‘A grudging acceptance, ma’am.’ ‘But this is not treating me as an employee, an independent being who is quite capable of looking after herself.’ He did not respond to her grumbling, but strode across the park and into the woods, describing to her all the improvements he had planned. It was impossible to sulk and Zelah found herself voicing her opinion, telling him her preference for chestnut trees to be planted in the park and suggesting an avenue of limes along the length of the new drive. ‘These are long-term plans, Major. Are you planning to settle here?’ ‘Possibly.’ ‘Then you should become more involved with the village. You could support my brother-in-law in his efforts to oppose Sir Oswald.’ ‘I wondered when we would come back to that. I have told you before, Miss Pentewan, one of the reasons I like Rooks Tower is its isolation. I have no desire to become embroiled in local disputes.’ ‘But—’ He stopped. ‘Enough, madam. Sir Oswald may be perfectly entitled to enclose the land, for all we know, and to cover it with mantraps. I will deal with matters that concern me, and no more.’ There was a note of finality in his voice and Zelah firmly closed her lips upon the arguments she wanted to utter. ‘Well, at least you could attend the summer assembly. It is looked upon almost as an obligation, you know, to be seen there. Besides, you would become better acquainted with your neighbours.’ He looked so fierce, his lips thinning and his crooked left brow descending so low that for a moment she thought he might shout at her, but he contented himself by saying curtly, ‘If I have business with my neighbours I will call upon them. I see no point in social chit-chat.’ They were in the woods now, another few minutes would bring them to the lane, so there really was no point in prolonging the argument. There was a sudden crashing in the undergrowth and a hind shot across their path, so close it almost brushed Zelah. It was swiftly followed by a large stag. Startled, Zelah jumped back. The major pulled her into his arms, twisting around to shield her in case another creature should plunge out of the bushes. He held her tight against him, one hand cradling her head against his chest. She could feel the thud of his heart through the rough wool of his coat. To be held thus was strange, unfamiliar, but she did not find it unpleasant. Zelah allowed herself to savour the feeling of safety and of refuge as the silence settled around them once more, but as the shock abated she realised her situation and pushed herself away. He released her immediately. ‘I beg your pardon. Did I hurt you?’ His curt tone only added to her confusion. Without his arms tight around her she felt quite … vulnerable. ‘N-no. I—um—I have never seen a stag at such close quarters before. Magnificent.’ ‘So it is you!’ Nicky’s cheerful voice came from the undergrowth at the side of the path. ‘We wondered what had startled the deer.’ He emerged from the bushes, followed by a thin man in a faded brown coat and breeches who touched his hat. ‘Major.’ ‘Good day, Robin.’ Dominic nodded. ‘And to you, young Master Buckland.’ ‘But, Nicky …’ Zelah put her hand on her nephew’s shoulder ‘… why are you out of school?’ ‘Mr Netherby was called away and he cancelled his classes today, so I joined Robin in the woods. Pray do not worry, Zelah. John the stable boy was in Lesserton and he carried a message back for me, telling Papa that there was no need to send the carriage to collect me. I have been having such a good time with Robin, following the deer. We were doing very well until you startled them.’ Zelah gave an uncertain laugh. ‘I think they startled us.’ ‘Ah, beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am.’ Old Robin took off his hat as he nodded to her. ‘The hind turned away from yer voices and found us blockin’ her way, so she took off across the path and the stag followed.’ ‘Are they not splendid creatures, Aunt?’ Nicky’s upturned face glowed with excitement. ‘We have been following them all day.’ ‘I trust you have not been near Sir Oswald’s land.’ Zelah frowned, concerned. ‘I wouldn’t take the boy there, ma’am, you may be sure o’ that,’ Robin assured her. He turned aside and spat on the ground. ‘Not that Sir Oswald owns all the land he’s laid claim to, whatever he may say.’ ‘You know where the boundary runs?’ Zelah asked eagerly. ‘Aye, that I do. Not that the deer follow boundaries of any man’s making.’ Nicky scowled. ‘Sir Oswald’s told Robin that he’ll shoot any animals he finds on his land, but they’ve been wandering there for years, they don’t know any different.’ Dominic shrugged. ‘I’ve no doubt Sir Oswald is trying to make his estate profitable.’ ‘Aye,’ said Robin, rubbing his nose, ‘he’s cutting down timber above Lydcombe Park and that’s his right, on that piece of land. What’s going on at Prickett Wood is another matter.’ ‘If you know something, then you should tell my brother-in-law,’ said Zelah. ‘Or Sir Arthur, who I think is the magistrate here.’ ‘Aye, p’rhaps I will.’ His response was too vague to satisfy Zelah, but before she could reply Nicky addressed her. ‘I am very glad we met you, Aunt, for I was coming to the Tower to see if you were ready to walk home with me. Robin has some work to do.’ The old man turned to the major, his eyes bright in his weather-beaten face. ‘Thought I’d take a look at the moles in yer south lawn, sir, if you still wants ‘em gone?’ ‘I do, Robin. If you wish, you can take yourself off to the Tower now. Tell Mrs Graddon I sent you and she’ll make sure there’s a meal for you tonight. I shall escort Miss Pentewan and Master Nicky to West Barton.’ It was on the tip of Zelah’s tongue to say that was not necessary, but the look of delight on Nicky’s face silenced her. They parted from old Robin and set off for the lane. She was not obliged to converse, because Nicky chattered away quite happily to the major, describing his lessons and his friends. The path was narrow and she was content to fall behind, listening to their conversation. ‘This is where I shall bid you goodbye.’ They had reached the lane and Major Coale stopped. ‘Will you not come to the house, sir?’ Nick gaze up at him hopefully. ‘I know Mama would be happy to offer you some refreshment.’ ‘Thank you, but no. I have work that needs my attention.’ ‘But—’ ‘Do not press him, Nicky,’ cautioned Zelah. ‘The major sees no point in social chit-chat.’ He met her eyes, the glint in his own confirming that he understood her. ‘Quite, Miss Pentewan. Good day to you.’ Chapter Seven (#ulink_ad172ca0-684d-5ef1-8a78-b4b3e0294e5b) ‘What will you wear to the assembly tomorrow, Maria?’ Zelah was sitting in the drawing room with her sister. Dinner had been a quiet affair, just the two of them since Reginald had not yet returned from his meeting in Lesserton. ‘I thought my bronze silk with the matching turban. It has a train, but I will not be dancing, so that will not matter. What think you, Zelah? It is not new but good enough for the summer assembly, I think. After all, it is not a special occasion.’ Zelah sighed. ‘It will be very special to me. I do so love to dance, but it has been three years since I had the opportunity.’ ‘Goodness me, yes. I suppose you did not go to the assemblies near Cardinham after … I mean—’ ‘No, and I have added some new ribbons to my lemon silk for the occasion,’ Zelah broke in, speaking quickly to cover her sister’s confusion. ‘I am sure you will look charming,’ agreed Maria, thankful to follow a safer line of thought. ‘We will put your hair in rags in the morning to make it curl—’ ‘No, no, Maria, I shall be at Rooks Tower.’ ‘What? You cannot work on those horrid books tomorrow, you will have no time to prepare for the assembly.’ Zelah laughed at her sister’s horrified look. ‘I am not such a great lady, I need only enough time to change my gown.’ ‘No, no, that will never do. Did you not tell Major Coale about the assembly?’ ‘I did, but I do not think he attaches much importance to such things.’ ‘Well, you must send a note over in the morning, telling him you cannot come.’ Zelah shook her head. ‘I have not seen him since the day Nicky came to the woods to meet me. I fear he was not best pleased with me then, so I would not wish to antagonise him further. He might turn me off.’ ‘Oh dear, I never thought, when you decided to earn your own living, that it would come to this. It cannot be right.’ Maria’s voice wavered, she drew out her handkerchief to wipe her eyes and Zelah realised that she had scandalised her sister. In Maria’s world only her duty to her husband and family would take precedence over a social event. She said gently, ‘It is not so very bad, my love. If I was a governess already, I should not be able to dance at all.’ ‘Oh, Zelah, if only it could be otherwise.’ Maria dabbed at her eyes. ‘If only you had not—’ Zelah jumped up. ‘Let us not think of it,’ she said quickly. ‘I have a lifetime to regret a moment’s madness, but tomorrow I shall go to the assembly, where no one knows my past, and dance to my heart’s content.’ Zelah went off to Rooks Tower the following day, promising Maria that she would return a little earlier to prepare for the assembly, but soon after she arrived Graddon came to inform her that the carter had brought more books for her. ‘Seems they were missed off his last consignment.’ They watched the crates being carried in and the butler shook his head. ‘Looks to me as if you’ll have to begin all your work again, miss.’ ‘Nonsense,’ she replied bracingly. ‘All that is required is a little reorganisation … well, perhaps rather a lot! But it is not impossible. The first thing is to empty all these boxes.’ The afternoon was well advanced when Major Coale came in to find her surrounded by books. ‘You look to be in your element.’ ‘I am.’ She smiled, relieved at his friendly tone. ‘This is the remainder of the books you purchased from Lydcombe Park and they are by far the most ancient. There are many more classical texts here—including some in the original Greek and Latin.’ ‘Can you read them?’ ‘I know a little, but not enough to work out all these. I shall have to take them to Mr Netherby to translate.’ ‘Let me have a look …’ He pulled a chair up beside her at the desk and they began deciphering the texts. There was a great deal of hilarity when either of them made a mistake and they continued in perfect harmony until the chiming of the clock proclaimed the hour. ‘Goodness, I must go!’ cried Zelah. ‘It is the assembly this evening. Maria will be wondering where I am.’ She laughed. ‘Do you know, I almost think I would prefer to stay here, working on these texts?’ She added mischievously, ‘Is it something about this house that turns one into a recluse? No, no, Major, pray do not fire up, I was only teasing, when I should really thank you, sir, for helping me.’ ‘So you will go away. You will become a lady for the night.’ She bridled at that. ‘I am no less a lady for working here, Major.’ She rose and began to move the books off the desk. ‘Of course not. So what will you wear and who will you dance with?’ She chuckled as she collected another armful of books from the desk. ‘I shall wear my lemon silk robe and as for dancing, why, I will dance with anyone who asks me!’ After Zelah left Rooks Tower the house seemed very quiet. Usually this did not worry Dominic, but for some reason this evening he was restless, unsettled. By God but the chit irked him, prattling on as she did about company, and society and his obligations to his neighbours. He grinned. She had had the nerve to tease him, too, calling him a recluse. It was impossible not to smile at her impertinence. He shut himself in his study and tried to read, but it was no good. He prowled about the room, too restless to sit down. Perhaps he should look in at the assembly. All the local people would be there, and there were a few things that needed to be discussed, small matters that could be dealt with in a moment. With his usual decisiveness he strode out of the room and soon set the household on its ears, calling for an early dinner and sending Graddon to search out his dancing pumps. The Lesserton Assembly was crowded and good natured. Sir Oswald Evanshaw’s appearance had surprised some and dismayed even more of those gathered in the long room of the White Hart. There were plenty of resentful looks, but mostly everyone ignored him, not wishing to bring their disputes into the ballroom. Zelah was going down the line with a young farmer when his stifled exclamation brought her head up and she saw Major Coale in the doorway. Although he was not wearing regimentals his upright bearing proclaimed the soldier. He was looking grim, but Zelah knew that was merely his defence against the stares of the crowd. Mr Eldridge the MC was bowing, making him welcome, and as soon as the dance ended Zelah hurried over to her brother-in-law. ‘I wish you would go and greet Major Coale, Reginald,’ she urged him. ‘It cannot be easy for him, when he is so new to the area.’ Reginald was inclined to hang back. ‘Dash it all, Zelah, I barely know the man myself. If Coale wishes to be introduced, then Eldridge is the man to do it.’ Zelah gave him a little push. ‘But you are a relative, Reginald, albeit a distant one. And you are so well acquainted with everyone here that you are much better placed to introduce the major to his neighbours. Please, Reginald. I think it cost Major Coale a great deal to come here this evening. He is not likely to put himself forwards.’ ‘No, with that hideous scar running down his face I suppose he is not,’ Reginald mused. ‘Very well, I’ll go and talk to him.’ With that Zelah had to be content. She went off to dance again, but found her attention returning constantly to the major. She saw him conversing with Reginald and was relieved when they were joined by several other gentlemen. With some satisfaction she watched the whole group stroll away to the card room and she felt at liberty to give herself up to the enjoyment of the dance. Some of the young ladies present might bemoan the lack of eligible gentlemen at the Lesserton Assembly, but Zelah was not amongst their number. She wanted only to dance and her sister numbered sufficient married gentlemen amongst her acquaintance to provide Zelah with a partner for almost every set. She was therefore happily engaged on the dance floor for the best part of the evening. She was delighted to see Major Coale take to the floor, partnering Mrs Eldrige, and when the movement of the dance brought them together she gave him a wide smile. ‘You came.’ ‘Yes.’ She wanted to ask him if he was enjoying himself, but there was no time before she was swept off by her next partner. She watched him lead out a couple more partners, both older matrons, and realised that he was avoiding the young ladies who cast surreptitious glances at him and giggled if he went near them. Their insensitive behaviour angered her, but there was little she could do, so when her brother-in-law swept her off to dance again she tried to push the matter from her mind as he whisked her around the floor in a lively jig. Standing at the side of the room and watching the dancers, Dominic smiled to himself. Everyone was eager to improve their acquaintance with him, but not because he was the son of a viscount, that cut little ice here. They saw him as their landlord, or a fellow land-owner or even a farmer. Phillips, his gamekeeper, would be pleased to know Abraham Judd had trapped the fox that had been terrorising the local bird population and Giles Grundy had suggested digging out the culvert at Rooks Ford, which would benefit them both. All in all it was a successful evening. Not that he would want to make a habit of it, he had grown used to his own company, but Zelah was right, it was a good way to keep in touch with his neighbours. Sir Oswald Evanshaw came up and Dominic returned his bow with a nod. ‘Evening, Coale. Surprised to see you here, what with your …’ His eyes flickered over Dominic’s face and shifted away to the dance floor. ‘How are you enjoying the entertainment?’ Sir Oswald raised his quizzing glass and surveyed the room, his lip curling slightly. ‘A far cry from London, ain’t it? In fact it’s positively rustic, but it behoves us to make an appearance, what?’ Dominic felt the slight nudge in the ribs from Sir Oswald’s elbow and he moved away a little. ‘I saw you dancing, too. By Gad, but you are braver than me, Coale. I wouldn’t dare to approach any of the dragons lest they devour me!’ ‘They are more like to refuse you,’ murmured Dominic. Sir Oswald laughed. ‘You are right there, of course. It’s this demmed court case, they have set me up as the villain of the piece.’ ‘Can you blame them? They have grazed those fields for years.’ ‘I know.’ Sir Oswald shook his head. ‘They have got it into their heads that they can use my land, that it’s their right, but it ain’t, Coale, and the sooner they learn that the better. They have even paid for a London lawyer to come down to plead their cause at the hearing next week. I told ‘em to save their money, but what can you do? It’s ill advised, Major, and I hope you’ll support me in that.’ Dominic looked at him, surprised. ‘The legal wranglings over grazing rights and the ownership of Prickett Wood is none of my concern, Evanshaw.’ ‘Not directly, perhaps, but you never know when they might turn on you and begin claiming your land, too. It would be helpful if they knew that you supported my case.’ Dominic regarded him in silence for a long moment. Sir Oswald was smiling, but there was no warmth in his pale eyes, just a cold, calculating look. ‘I know nothing of your case,’ he said at last, ‘and I do not see why you are so concerned, if you are sure the land is legally yours.’ Sir Oswald’s eyes snapped with impatience and he chewed his lip. ‘At least assure me you won’t join with the villagers. It’s bad enough that Buckland should lend them his support. The farmers, well, I can understand them fighting me, but Buckland—demme, he’s a gentleman! It makes the lower sort think they have a chance.’ Dominic did not answer and with a curt nod Sir Oswald lounged away, shouldering his way through the crowd until he disappeared into the card room. An unpleasant fellow, Dominic decided as he strolled around the edge of the room. He found himself hoping that Buckland and the villagers did find some legal loophole that would stop Evanshaw claiming the disputed land. ‘You are looking very serious, Major. I hope you are enjoying yourself.’ He looked down at Maria Buckland, sitting on a nearby bench, sipping at a glass of wine. Shaking off his thoughtful mood, he scooped a glass from the tray of a passing waiter and sat down beside her. ‘I am, ma’am. More than I expected to do.’ ‘I am very glad of it. I have always found the society here most friendly. But we were surprised to see you this evening: I understood you had told Mr Eldridge you did not plan to attend.’ Dominic smiled. ‘That is correct, ma’am, but I was, er, persuaded to change my mind. By your sister.’ ‘Oh dear, I hope she was not impertinent.’ With some difficulty Dominic prevented the smile from turning into a grin and he resisted the temptation to tell Mrs Buckland exactly what he thought of her sister. ‘No, no. Not at all.’ ‘Do you know, Major, when I think of Zelah spending her life as a governess I am quite cast down.’ Dominic had heard that innocent tone in many a woman’s voice, and he was immediately on the alert. ‘Indeed?’ He sipped his wine, determined to empty the glass and move on as quickly as possible. ‘Zelah is extremely accomplished,’ Maria continued, still in that thoughtful tone. ‘Do you not agree, Major?’ ‘She certainly seems to be well educated.’ ‘Oh, she is and her birth is impeccable.’ Maria clasped her hands around her glass and gave a huge sigh. ‘It is the most tragic waste that her worth—and her charms—are not more widely appreciated. She would make some lucky gentleman the perfect wife.’ Dominic choked in the act of finishing his wine. ‘Madam, that is the most blatant propositioning—!’ ‘Oh heavens, Major, you quite mistake me, I did not mean—’ Maria put her hand on his arm to prevent him from rising. ‘Oh, my dear sir, I do not mean that you should be that gentleman! I beg your pardon. It is just, well, you and Reginald are related, after all.’ ‘A very distant connection,’ he flashed. Her gracious smile did not falter. ‘But it was thanks to Reginald that you heard Rooks Tower was for sale, did you not? So we have been of use to you, I believe.’ She leaned a little closer. ‘Let me be frank with you.’ He eyed her with some misgiving. ‘I’m afraid you have been too frank already.’ ‘No, no. Pray allow me to explain. Zelah is a charming girl, but this assembly is the nearest she will get to a come-out, and much as I value the local society, you must admit there is no one here worthy of her. It is not that there are not good families living nearby, but you will never find Sir Arthur Andrews, or the Conisbys or the Lulworths attending such an assembly as this. No, what Zelah needs is a benefactor. Someone to hold a ball for her. A splendid affair attended by the best families in the area, so that they may see just what a jewel she is. And so that Zelah might see that there is an alternative to becoming a governess.’ She gave another sigh. ‘I would happily hold a ball for her, if we were in a position to do so, but you have visited West Barton, Major, you know we have no reception rooms suitable for more than a very small gathering.’ She fixed her eyes, so like her sister’s, upon him. ‘I believe Rooks Tower has several excellent reception rooms.’ Despite himself, Dominic’s lips twitched. ‘Mrs Buckland, you have been very frank with me, let me be equally plain. I will happily acknowledge that your husband and I are related and that it was through our mutual relative that I heard about Rooks Tower. I am very grateful for that, but even so I have no intention of holding a ball, for Miss Pentewan or anyone else.’ She stared at him and he held her gaze unblinking, until finally she nodded. ‘Reginald warned me how it would be, that you would not countenance such a thing, but Zelah thinks so highly of you, I thought I might put it to the touch.’ The music had ended and Reginald Buckland was even now bringing Zelah across to them. Dominic rose. ‘Well, you have done so and you may now be easy.’ Laughing and breathless, Zelah took Reginald’s arm and tripped across the room to join her sister. She immediately noticed the tall figure of the major beside Maria as they left the dance floor. He was standing with his left side turned to the wall so that he was presenting the right, uninjured side of his face to the room. Zelah found herself staring at his profile, the smooth plane of his cheek and the strong, clean line of his jaw. There was just the hint of a smile on the sculpted lips, perhaps it was something Maria had said to him. She was struck again by how handsome he was—had been. As if aware of her attention he turned to look at her and she saw again the cruel, jagged scar that distorted the left side of his face. She kept her eyes upon him, refusing to glance away. She would not betray any sign of pity, even by a flicker of an eyelid. Whatever happy thoughts he had shared with Maria had gone. There was no hint of a smile in his hard grey eyes. Beside her she could hear Reginald’s loud, cheerful banter. ‘By Gad, Zelah, you have worn me out! I think I must sit and rest my old bones beside Maria for a while. What say you, will you sit down or shall I find you another partner? Eh, who would you dance with next?’ Her gaze never wavered. ‘I will dance with the major, if he will have me.’ It was a bold statement. For a frightening moment she thought he would refuse. Then, unsmiling, he held out his hand. Triumphant, she put up her head and proudly accompanied him to the floor. The musicians had decided that their audience needed some respite from the energetic dances and now began a slower, much more stately beat. Zelah had time to observe her partner and to be observed. Her own gaze dropped beneath his unwavering scrutiny and she felt herself blushing like any schoolgirl. She would have missed her step, if her partner had not been adept at leading her. His grip tightened and she gave him a little smile, grateful for his support. ‘You are a very good dancer, Major.’ ‘Thank you. I was used to be so, but I am very much out of practice.’ ‘Ah, but you have been used to dancing in the grandest ballrooms. Your idea of out of practice is polished perfection to our little assembly.’ ‘You flatter me, ma’am.’ ‘No, I do not.’ She met his look, suddenly serious. ‘You are not lame when you are dancing.’ ‘Not when I am dancing with you.’ The sudden and unexpected heat of his glance seared Zelah and a flame of desire threatened to engulf her. She fought it back. That way led only to disaster. ‘Nonsense. You have danced several times this evening without any halting step.’ ‘How can you know that?’ ‘Because I was watching you.’ The corner of his mouth lifted slightly. ‘How very gratifying.’ Too late she realised he had tricked her. Triumph danced in his eyes and drew an answering gleam from her own. She sank her teeth into her bottom lip to prevent the smile that was trying to spill out. ‘I was dancing too, so you were often in my sight, I was not deliberately looking out for you.’ Her lofty response resulted in a chuckle and she tried to scowl at him. ‘Fie, sir, you twist my words to pander to your own vanity!’ ‘You are twisting your own words. I have said very little.’ ‘No, but you looked—’ She laughed. ‘You are making May-game of me, Major. Is this how one flirts in the highest circles? I fear I am a very unworthy opponent.’ The music came to an end and she sank into her curtsy. He reached out for her proffered hand to pull her up. ‘There is nothing at all unworthy about you, Miss Pentewan,’ he murmured and she watched, speechless, as he carried her fingers to his lips. Once it was seen that Major Coale was no longer confining his attentions to the married ladies, those parents with daughters to marry off began to flock around him and he obliged them all by remaining on the floor for the rest of the night, but Zelah could not quell the little thrill of triumph when he led her out for the last dance of the evening. ‘You must be well practised by now, Major.’ ‘You have done me a great disservice, madam. Since dancing with you I have been besieged with partners.’ ‘Tell me you did not enjoy it.’ His smile was genuine, softening his face, and again she felt the ache of attraction. ‘I have not danced like that since … since I returned from the Peninsula.’ ‘Then you should do so more often, Major. You look the better for it.’ His hand tightened on her fingers and her body cried out to respond to the warm invitation in his eyes, but she shook her head at him. ‘I will not allow you to flirt with me, or to tease me, Major. I have a serious point to make and will not be distracted. You see how everyone accepts you and you are much more at ease with them. I consider this a good night’s work.’ ‘Have I become your charity? Your good cause?’ A quick glance assured her he was not offended and she smiled up at him Конец ознакомительного фрагмента. Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес». Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию (https://www.litres.ru/sarah-mallory/regency-beauty-beneath-the-major-s-scars-behind-the-rake-s-w/?lfrom=688855901) на ЛитРес. Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.