Married: The Virgin Widow (8 page)

Seven years ago Ford had been full of energy and high spirits. Looking back, Laura had to admit that energy had not been well harnessed, but dissipated in idle amusement, like the young man he’d visited in London. Now it was channelled in productive ways that would benefit others.

After chatting a few more minutes with the Coopers, she glanced toward the window. “I wish I could visit
longer, but I must be on my way if I am to reach home before it rains.”

“My husband can harness the cart and drive you back to Hawkesbourne,” Mrs Cooper offered.

“That won’t be necessary.” Laura tucked her basket back under her arm. “The way by road is much longer and I would not want Mr Cooper to be caught in the rain on his return. Good day to you.”

Before she had walked a mile from Appleshaw Farm, Laura regretted refusing Mrs Cooper’s offer. The angry clouds began to hurl fat drops of rain at the ground—a few at first, then faster and harder, until she was caught in a drenching downpour. It was no use going back, for her clothes were already soaked through. She would just have to press on and make the best of it, the way she’d done with so many other unpleasant experiences life had dealt her.

“A pox on all poets who wax lyrical about springtime in England!” she muttered, trudging over the soggy turf as rain dripped from the brim of her bonnet.

She had even more cause for dismay when she reached the drove road. The sunken track had now become a swift-flowing stream that cut across her path, far too wide to jump. The rain showed no sign of easing, but pelted down with a force that made Laura’s flesh sting where it hit her.

Vexed with herself for not staying at the Coopers, she shrieked a curse that would have shocked her mother speechless. Having eased her feelings with that outburst, she decided to wade across the muddy torrent, though it would ruin her old walking shoes.

Then Ford’s voice rang out over the tumult of wind
and rain. “If you must swear like that, you should do it in a foreign language.”

He sounded almost cheerful. Did he find her predicament amusing? She looked up to see him sitting astride his horse on the opposite bank of the drove road.

“I could teach you a few in Malay,” he offered. “Only I would be too embarrassed to tell you what they mean. Stay where you are. I’ll fetch you.”

His imperious command made Laura want to leap straight into the rushing water, but she managed to restrain herself. “What are you doing out here? Paying calls to antagonise your tenants?“

Ford did not heed her question as he urged his horse down the slippery bank and through the swirling muddy water, which came up past its fetlocks.

“Climb on.” Ford held out his arm to her. “Quick, now, before the water gets any deeper!”

Bristling at his peremptory tone, Laura seized his hand and hurled herself into his waiting arms. As Ford caught her and swung her up in front of him, his left hand brushed against the bodice of her spencer. Beneath the light fabric, her nipples were puckered from the chill of the rain, keenly sensitive to his touch. Suddenly aware of how her light muslin dress clung to her body, nearly transparent, she tensed and focused her gaze straight ahead.

Once she was securely seated in front of him, Ford swept up the reins in his right hand, using his left to circle Laura’s waist. With a jog and a tug, he urged the horse back up the opposite bank to higher ground. For an instant, the animal lost its footing, its hooves slithering on the slippery mud. Ford tightened his hold on
Laura, pulling her firmly against his chest. The sudden forced nearness made her tremble.

“You’re cold,” said Ford as the horse regained its balance and scrambled on to solid ground. Before Laura could protest, he removed his coat and wrapped it around her.

Then he pointed his mount back toward Hawkesbourne and urged it to a brisk canter. “Belinda told me you’d gone out to pay a call. I thought you might be caught in the rain. Tell me, what did you mean about antagonising my tenants?”

Though his coat was wet through in places, Laura found it surprisingly warm. The smell of damp wool mingled with the aroma of sandalwood and the distinctive masculine scent of Ford himself. With every hastening breath, Laura drew his essence deeper and deeper inside her.

To distract herself from his vital, enveloping presence, she concentrated on answering his question. “All your new ideas for improvements are as good as telling them they and their ancestors have been doing it wrong for hundreds of years. How would you like it if they told you a better way to run your trading company? Especially if they had the power to enforce their plans.”

She felt Ford’s muscles tense. “All I want is for this estate to prosper. That will not happen if everyone ambles along, doing everything the way their grandfathers did. People must embrace change if they mean to succeed.”

Was he talking about his tenants, Laura wondered, or himself? He had changed and prospered, but at what cost?

“Not all change brings improvement,” she muttered.

“What would you have me do then?” demanded Ford. “Neglect the estate, like Cyrus did?”

“Of course not. And I told Mr Cooper so. But you might use a bit of your old charm. I know you haven’t lost it entirely for you lavish it upon my mother and sisters. Try asking your tenants what sorts of changes
they
would like to make. Find out what you can do to help them instead of barking orders and putting plans into effect without consulting them.”

“I don’t bark orders,” Ford protested.

“You do.” Laura parroted his earlier words back at him.
“Stay where you are. Climb on. Quick now.”

“I didn’t say them like that. Well, perhaps I did, but what does that matter? Would you rather I’d left you there to get soaked…more soaked? Or fall down wading through that wretched ditch? You might have been swept away.”

Was that a note of concern she detected in his voice? Or was her maddening awareness of him confusing her hearing as much as her other senses?

“It was good of you to ride out in the rain to fetch me home.” Though the admission did not come easily, Laura meant it. “And take Mama out for walks in that garden chair. And bring my sisters and me to London. And host a ball to celebrate our engagement. I do not mean to be ungrateful, but it is not pleasant to be tyran-nised—having no power over anything that happens to you, always dancing to someone else’s tune. Perhaps you do not know what that feels like. But I do and so do your tenants. It may be that young Mr Northmore feels the same way about his brother.”

Ford did not reply. Had he even listened to a word she’d said?

As the rain began to ease, Laura could see the turrets of Hawkesbourne Hall rearing above the trees ahead.
When they reached the stables, Ford lowered her to the ground. Then he swiftly dismounted and offered her his arm. Water dripped off the wide brim of his hat and his shirt was drenched—plastered to his chest in a way that made him appear naked from the waist up.

Laura struggled to catch her breath. A man with such a powerful physique could do her far worse harm than his ageing cousin ever had. Why had she risked antagonising him just now? Yet, mixed with her alarm came an ache of something like hunger…only it gnawed much lower than her stomach.

Ford seemed unaware of her reaction. Or was he? It was always so hard to tell with him. “We must get you out of those wet clothes before you catch a chill.”

He did not mean it in a wanton way. At least Laura did not think so, judging by his brusque movements and curt tone of voice. Yet her fevered imagination conjured visions of falling into a swoon while Ford swept her off to her bedchamber where he proceeded to undress her. Much as she hated to admit it, there was a strangely arousing aspect to his masterful nature

Ford’s voice crashed in on her wicked thoughts, sending them flying to hide in shame. “That was a suggestion, by the way, not an order. If you
wish
to catch a chill and drip water all over the house, be my guest.”

His quip was so unexpected and her agitated emotions so urgently in need of release, Laura could not suppress a sputter of laughter. “No, indeed. It is a sound suggestion, which I mean to follow at once.”

Suddenly aware that she was still wearing his coat, she removed it with a puzzling tug of reluctance. “I would be even wetter and colder without this. Thank you.”

She held the sodden garment out to Ford, who looked rather thoughtful as he took it. “I do not mean to tyrannize over anyone, you know. I only want to do what is best and do it quickly, without wasting time over
by your leave
and
if you don’t mind
. I never would have made my fortune if I had not learned to act decisively.”

“There is a time for decisive action.” Laura removed her bonnet and pushed a damp lock of hair off her forehead. “But surely there are other times when the exercise of a little consideration would not be wasted. People work harder and faster when they understand and agree with the reasons for what they are doing. You might find people have helpful suggestions, if you are willing to ask them and listen to their ideas.”

“Like yours about finding a wharf outside London?”

Ford might not have asked for her idea, but he had listened and acted on it. Perhaps there was hope for him, after all. “I have one about how you could help your tenants and perhaps win their co-operation with your improvement plans.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Ford replied, “Very well, what is it?”

Before he had a chance to change his mind, Laura ploughed ahead, repeating what Mrs Cooper had said about the expense of goods from the Indies. “I thought, since your company imports such items, perhaps you could provide them directly to your tenants at a reduced price.”

She braced for him to reject her idea, perhaps ridicule it. Instead he gave a cautious nod. “There might be something to that. I will consider it. But for the moment, we had both better get into dry clothes.”

As he strode away, Laura followed him with her eyes, admiring the lithe grace of his gait. Then, abruptly, he stopped and spun about. She gave a guilty start as if he’d caught her doing something shameful.

But Ford seemed too much occupied with his own thoughts to notice she’d been staring after him. “I
do
know how it feels, to be at the mercy of someone else’s actions and powerless to prevent it.” His voice had a forced quality, as if the words were being pulled out of him against his will. “That is why I have worked so hard to make certain it never happens to me again.”

What in blazes had come over him?

After a night spent tossing and turning, Ford still had no satisfactory answer. For a man who hated to reveal his feelings, he’d been appallingly quick and candid about disclosing some of his deepest to Laura. So deep, in fact, that he had scarcely been aware of them before the words burst out of his mouth.

It was true, though, he admitted to himself as he sat alone in the dining room absently munching toast. For most of his life he’d been at the mercy of Fate and the actions of others, which had often seemed equally cruel and arbitrary. From his mother’s death to Helena’s schemes and his father’s downfall—all lost beyond recovery and nothing he could do to prevent them.

But he was no longer a helpless child when Laura’s betrayal had brought his whole world crashing down around him. It had been a struggle, but he’d learned to take control of his emotions and his destiny. If it meant other people must dance to
his
tune for a change, was that such a bad thing?

Ford directed his unspoken question at the portrait of his cousin Cyrus that hung above the mantelpiece. The face in the painting stared down at him, its stony features devoid of expression, the eyes betraying no emotion. What sort of husband had his cousin been to Laura? The besotted fool, indulgent of a pretty young wife…or something else? The portrait taunted Ford with its secrets.

If what he’d learned in London was true, Laura had not lured Cyrus to the altar to get her hands on his fortune. She’d only turned to him for help after her father’s sudden death, desperate to secure a home for her mother and sisters. Perhaps she, too, had learned something about the tyranny of Fate that demanded wrenching choices.

His thoughts strayed back to the day before, when he’d ridden home with her in his arms. He’d only gone looking for her because he feared she might be meeting her
Crawford
. He had been surprised to find her out visiting his tenants and quite confounded when she took him to task over his improvement plans. Though he’d been reluctant to admit it, her suggestion about selling East Indian goods directly to his tenants had merit.

A soft gasp drew his startled gaze toward the door where Laura stood frozen in her tracks. “I beg your pardon! I did not mean to disturb your breakfast. I thought you would be away by now.”

“Don’t go!” Ford called, as she turned to rush off. “I mean…do not feel obliged to leave on my account. I was just finishing.”

Laura glanced back at him. “You looked deep in thought. I did not wish to interrupt.”

“It was nothing important,” Ford assured her, not entirely certain that was true. He did welcome the diversion
of her sudden arrival. Delving too deeply into his past and the reasons for his actions was an uncomfortable occupation at best. One he was not eager to prolong. “I hope you are feeling well this morning. No ill effects from your drenching yesterday?”

She did not look ill. Indeed, she seemed to have put on a little much-needed weight since his return. Her face had filled out, making her look younger. The bust of her gown fit more snugly over breasts. Remembering the feel of her in his arms the day before and way her wet skirts had clung to her legs, Ford looked forward to their wedding night with growing anticipation.

“I am feeling quite well, thank you.” Laura edged back into the room. “It would take more than a little rain to hurt me. And you?”

Ford gave a careless shrug. “Never better. I believe a bracing ride in the rain agrees with me.”

Something
about the experience had brought him a heady rush of vitality. The lingering contact of her body against his, perhaps?

“I am glad to hear it.” Laura eased on to her usual chair at the opposite end of the table. “I would hate for you to suffer any harm on my account.”

Her words took him so much by surprise that Ford could barely contain a gust of harsh laughter. Had she truly managed to convince herself she’d done him no harm by marrying Cyrus? If so, he was not about to disabuse her. Those feelings of humiliation, betrayal and heartbreak were ones he guarded most heavily of all.

“Never fear. I have learned to thrive on adversity.” He rose from the table. “Now I must go check how much
damage yesterday’s rain did to the drainage work over at Den Marsh. I doubt it escaped as unscathed as you and I.”

On his way to the door, something compelled him to stop a few feet from Laura. “By the way, I expect my time to be much occupied with estate business for the next few days. Pryce has been pestering me about plans for the ball—who to invite, what kind of punch to serve, how many musicians to hire? What do I know about any of that? I should like you to take charge of the arrangements…if you are willing?”

For a moment, Laura looked bewildered by his request. Then a strange warm light kindled deep in her eyes. Ford steeled himself to resist its enchantment and almost succeeded. “I would be pleased to. I have never planned a ball before, but I have attended a few. No doubt Mama and the girls would be happy to advise me.”

“I will leave it in your hands, then.” Ford headed for the door, fighting a strong urge to linger in Laura’s company. “Don’t trouble yourself about money. Spend whatever you need to make it an evening our guests will remember.”

He had almost reached the door when she called his name.

Her tone had a ring of winsome sweetness he had not heard in seven empty, arid years.

He stopped in mid-stride and swung about. “Yes?”

Laura turned to look at him. Her lips were spread in a luminous smile that sent golden sunbeams shimmering through him. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For asking my help. For giving me some say about what happens in this house.”

It had brought him a measure of mordant amusement
to bait Laura, a perverse satisfaction to vex and thwart her. But they were pale, sour sensations compared to the heady gratification of pleasing her.

Caution warned him it could be addictive. “It was nothing, I assure you.”

Her smile faltered a little. “To you, perhaps, but not to me. I will do my best to make this ball a memorable one.”

“I have every confidence in you.” With a hasty bow, Ford took his leave. He managed to get safely out the door before he broke into a damned idiotic grin.

Perhaps it had meant nothing to Ford, letting her make arrangements for the ball, Laura reflected as she supervised the final preparations. But to her it was a tangible sign that he might be a better husband than his cousin had been. While their marriage would not be the kind of romantic idyll of which she once dreamed, it might be bearable—if Ford could learn to curb his arrogance and not treat her like a possession with no will or feelings to consider.

She glanced up from a floral arrangement she’d been admiring to spot Mr Pryce crossing the ballroom toward her. “Do the arrangements meet with your approval, my lady?”

“Indeed they do.” Laura rewarded the butler with a grateful smile. “I hardly recognise the place.”

From the time she’d first come to Hawkesbourne, the ballroom had been a vast, dark cavern she’d avoided. Now, glass, marble and fine wood gleamed in the soft radiance cast by scores of wax candles. Lighter paint and wallpaper gave the room an open, airy quality. New curtains and more modern furnishings helped, too, as
did the garlands of greenery and flowers draped over the mantelpieces.

“You wanted it to look like an indoor garden, my lady.” Pryce glanced around the room, his face glowing with satisfaction. “And I believe we have granted your wish.”

“I hope his lordship and our guests will like it as much as I do.” That thought gave Laura qualms. What if this was some kind of test Ford had set to decide whether he could depend upon her? Would their neighbours be the judges? She could think of several who might be eager to find fault.

If that were the case, there was nothing she could do about it now. Laura inhaled a deep breath and squared her shoulders. She must concentrate on making this an entertaining evening for those who came with open minds. “What is still left to do? I see the musicians have arrived. Do they have everything they need?”

Pryce grimaced at the screech of discordant notes coming from the platform where the quartet was tuning up their fiddles and pipes. “So they tell me, my lady. Cook reports that preparations for supper are going well. I was about to begin compounding the punch unless you need me for something else.”

“Not at the moment.” Laura’s confidence rose. She might be a novice at entertaining on this scale, but Mr Pryce had had plenty of experience. If he assured her everything was well in hand, then it must be. “But could I prevail upon you to fetch my mother once the guests have arrived?”

Pryce bowed. “Consider it done, my lady.”

“I’m not certain how long Mama will feel well enough to stay,” Laura continued. “But she is so eager
to see everyone and watch the dancing. Perhaps if you could watch over
her
and persuade her to return to her room before she tires herself out. She is more likely to listen to you than to me or my sister.”

“You may rely on me, my lady.” The butler seemed moved by her trust in him. “I will make certain Mrs Penrose does not overtax herself.”

“Of course, I rely on you. We all do and have ever since we came to Hawkesbourne. I cannot imagine what we would have done without you.”

“Hawkesbourne without Mr Pryce?” Susannah’s merry voice rang out behind them. “It doesn’t bear thinking of!”

“No, it does not,” echoed Belinda, her tone not as lively as her sister’s, but no less sincere.

Laura cast a critical glance over them both, relieved to see how lovely they looked. Susannah sparkled in a gown of buttercup yellow while Belinda’s lace-trimmed lavender silk flattered her gentle beauty. They might grace even the most exalted company.

The butler regarded them with almost paternal pride. Perhaps he was remembering them when they had first come to Hawkesbourne, little more than children.

It took him a moment to summon his voice, which came out a trifle husky. “It has been an honour to serve such excellent ladies. Now, if you will excuse me, I must see to the punch before your guests arrive.”

“The dear man,” Belinda whispered when Mr Pryce was out of earshot. “He is so happy to have Ford home. Now he has the resources to run the house properly.”

With a bubbly giggle, Susannah nudged her sisters. “Speaking of Ford, there he is now. How handsome he
looks—even better than Lord Bramber, and you know I partial I am to him!”

Laura’s gaze flew to the doorway where Ford stood, framed like one of the many fine portraits of his ancestors that hung throughout the house. But none of them had been nearly as attractive. His dress clothes fit so well on his tall, straight frame. He had let his hair grow out from the harsh cropped stubble to crisp dark curls. The stark contours of his face gave it a striking intensity that made commonplace words like
handsome
quite inadequate.

A deep, insistent hum began to pulse beneath Laura’s skin, as if she were a taut string on the musicians’ bass fiddle.

“He’s seen us!” cried Susannah.

Laura did not need to be told. Ford’s gaze ran over her like the gliding caress of a skilled bow stroke.

“We should all curtsy to him,” suggested Belinda. “After he was kind enough to take us all the way to London to get these gowns made up.”

“Yes, let’s!” Susannah prodded Laura. “Come on. You as well.”

Roused from her admiring contemplation, Laura took her sisters’ cue and sank into a deep curtsy.

Susannah was the first to bounce up again, brimming with high spirits. “What do you think of our fine feathers, Ford? Precious little fear of us putting you to shame tonight.”

“Not in appearance, perhaps.” Laura tried to sound severe, but it was not easy when an unaccustomed froth of elation bubbled inside her. “But you should curb your spirits a little so you do not expose yourself to ridicule. That would reflect worse on Ford than a shabby gown.”

“I swear I shall be on my best behaviour.” Susannah placed her hand over her heart. “Only don’t expect me to be all prim and pruney at my first proper ball.”

Ford laughed. And for the first time since his return, it did not sound forced or mocking. “I don’t believe you could if you tried. And I for one would not want you to—especially not tonight. This is meant to be a festive occasion.”

He offered Laura his arm. For a change, his smile did not disappear when he turned his attention to her. “You have done a marvellous job. This old barn of a ballroom has never looked so fine. And all the preparations seem to be running like clockwork.”

A rush of tingling warmth suffused Laura’s cheeks. She was not certain what provoked it—Ford’s unexpected praise or the intensity of his nearness. She cautioned herself not to set too much store by his kind words. He was only surprised by how well she’d managed the challenge he had set her. Perhaps he thought she might be an asset in his future business dealings.

She raised her fan and fluttered up a little breeze to cool her face. “The proof of the pudding will be in the eating. I hope our guests will enjoy themselves this evening.”

“Of course they will.” Ford’s hearty tone dared them not to. “And speaking of guests—” he gestured toward her sisters “—will you ladies join us in receiving them? You know our neighbours better than I do.”

“We’d be glad to help,” replied Belinda. “Wouldn’t we, Sukie?”

“Very well, only please don’t call me that once the guests arrive—especially the handsome, young gentleman guests. You have invited a few of those, I hope, Ford.”

“Every one we could recruit for miles around,” he assured her. “Along with Julian Northmore, who is coming all the way from London.”

“Your partner’s brother, of course!” Susannah clapped her hands. “I’d almost forgotten.”

The musicians had finished their strident tuning and now began to play a sweet, lively melody. Ford’s reassurance quieted the discord within Laura, replacing it with buoyant rhythm and delightful harmonies. It had been so very long since she’d experienced such pleasant feelings, they threatened to intoxicate her more than the most potent punch.