The spinster and the wastrel (22 page)

Or maybe it was the late night of drinking that caused his stomach to heave and his head to whirl in this crowd. He did not know or care. He only sought to reach his home and escape under the bedcovers.

He directed Silver Shadow around a stopped wagon. "Come on, boy," he told the horse. "There is no need to be so miserable. You will recover."

His laugh sounded forced even to his own ears. Yet, there was no reason to wallow in misery. He certainly had

the funds to pay off his losses. Sir Gerard shook his head and then wished he had not. He was acting as if Annette had not returned his fortune to him.

Annette.

She would not be proud of him, if she saw him now. He groaned. Why did he always live up to people's worst expectations about him? If he wanted her to admire him, this was not the path to take. He knew that.

Likely Annette would never know about this night's work. There might be the odd gossip about him in the drawing rooms of London, but he was not so important that the news would leak to Upper Brampton. Not one loss.

Yet a little voice nagged at the back of his mind, "Your uncle heard of your escapades. Why won't she?"

Only if he continuously repeated the last night's losses would word of them reach the village. Why, they might not even be reported in the society news of the Times.

He would never lose again.

Of course, he had claimed the same thing last evening when he sat down at the green baize table and the promise of good luck had been broken. He wondered what had happened to that promise.

Patting Silver Shadow's neck, he said, "We will keep this just between the two of us. Is that all right, boy?"

The horse tossed his head, and the upset churning within Sir Gerard began to calm. He worried over nothing. After all, he had the money to pay his gambling debts. He just was not yet accustomed to having a fortune at his disposal.

Is it yours to spend?

Sir Gerard abruptly reined in his mount. Where had that thought come from?

He glanced at the crowd eddying around him. Men and women bustled about their errands or cried out their wares. No one had stopped to speak, except perhaps to curse him as an obstacle in their paths. Amid the noise and confusion, they had not posed the question about his ownership.

Shaking his head, he nudged Silver Shadow forward. He must have drunk more than he realized. It would be best if he found his bed before he started seeing things, as well as hearing them.

What a foolish thought! Of course the money was his.

Unbidden, he remembered his tenant Tim Farmer and his new cottage. If Annette had not returned the money when she did, Sir Gerard knew he would not have been able to pay for the building and stove he had promised. As it was, the payment had been a little late, due to the paperwork involved in the transfer of possession. Now he hoped Tubbs the carpenter had not suffered by the delay. The man deserved to be paid promptly for his work. He likely had a family depending upon him.

For the first time, Sir Gerard realized using a draft on his bank would not mean he was the one paying off his debts. Only that he used the labor of others to do so. The people who worked his farms or in the other business interests he now controlled, toiled to create the money he had bet so carelessly.

Like his title, the fortune was only held in life trust. It should serve the needs of the estate. If he were honest, his gambling debts did not serve the needs of the estate. And he was being brutally honest with himself.

His lips thinned. He could not waste their hard work in such a fashion. Maybe if he had never lived in Upper Brampton, his tenants would not have names and faces,

and then he could live ignoring them like the rest of society. But he had lived in the village, and thanks to Annette, he did know their names. In all justice, his work should pay his debts.

He patted Silver Shadow's neck. They were nearly at his apartments, but he did not urge the horse to a faster pace. He needed to consider where he could obtain some money of his own to pay his last gambling debts.

As before, he had no assets and no income to his name. He really only owned his clothes and his horse.

Silver Shadow was an asset.

"No!" He spoke the protest aloud.

Yet even as he cried against the prospect, he realized it was the answer. The sale of his beloved horse would bring in the money he needed.

"I will never bet again," he promised.

Still, his inner sense of justice would not allow him to misuse the fortune he had inherited. Silver Shadow must be sold, and then he would return to Upper Brampton. The need to be in that small village flamed within him. He must escape London. All the promise of the city's delights had turned to ashes when he partook of them. In truth, he had not enjoyed them. Only in Upper Brampton had he enjoyed the life he wanted. Once he finished his business in London, he would return there.

Sir Gerard directed his mount towards the horse sellers at Tattersalls. He would never gamble again. The price was too high.

The mail coach seemed destined to seek out every rut and bump on the road between London and Upper Brampton. Sir Gerard gritted his teeth as the bouncing rattled every bone in his body. Fortunately, he sat near the window and

was able to grasp the strap in an effort to maintain his balance.

The burly man in the middle had nothing to hold onto. His weight shifted with every movement of the coach. Sir Gerard was taking as much of a punishment from the man's body blows as in the attack by Wallace's ruffians. There would certainly be as many bruises.

In addition to the bruising he was receiving, he had to fight off nausea. The overpowering smell of very ripe onions burned the air. The farmer's wife sitting across from him had a basketful of the vegetable on her lap. She had informed her traveling companions she was going to visit her daughter, who had three children. Apparently the onions were part of the many gifts she intended to bestow upon the mother. Or maybe it was the grandchildren. Sir Gerard really did not care to puzzle it out. Instead he concentrated on breathing through his mouth and remaining upright.

He would make no complaint about this trip.

He had to return to Upper Brampton. Now that Silver Shadow had been sold, the mail coach was the fastest way.

In an effort to ignore his surroundings, Sir Gerard tried to remember Upper Brampton. Hathaway Hall sprang into his mind as he wanted the house to be—filled with light and laughter, but the manor house was no longer the lure that reeled him in as it had last January after his uncle's death. Then he had longed to see the hall again and to know that at last it was his.

Hathaway Hall was still his. Familiarity must breed comfortable acceptance, for the house did not appeal so strongly this time. The need for something else burned within him and pulled him home. That was something he had learned. He wanted a home, not a house.

The coach hit a particularly vicious hole, sending the burly man crashing into him. Sir Gerard's breath escaped with a loud whoosh. The onions flew from their basket like rocks thrown by the village boys. One clobbered Sir Gerard's forehead.

The curses of the other passengers rang in the air as they struggled to right themselves in the jouncing vehicle. Sir Gerard would have joined their chorus, if he had not bitten his tongue. Battling to set the burly man upright, at the same time he attempted to reach the handkerchief folded in his coat's pocket. Black spots from the onion blow swam before Sir Gerard's eyes.

"Don't step on them," the farmwife shrieked. "They're gifts for my daughter. She has three little ones, too."

The woman reached down to pick up her onions rolling on the crowded floor between the passengers' feet. Her off-balance posture sent her bumping into their legs. Her foot came down heavily on his polished boot.

"Sorry, sorry," she muttered, gathering up her vegetables.

Sir Gerard smiled painfully as he pressed the handkerchief against the lump forming on his forehead. He would never forget this miserable trip. He missed Silver Shadow more than he thought possible.

But he missed Annette more.

She was the lure that drew him. London had not satisfied him because she had not been there. At every function and activity, he had missed her.

The prospect of seeing her again in Upper Brampton lifted his heart. Momentarily he forgot this wretched coach ride. Anticipation sang through his veins.

Annette. He would see Annette again.

Another vicious jolt of the vehicle reminded him of his

surroundings. With determination, he refused to allow the crowded conditions to make him downcast. He looked out the window at the passing countryside, watching the hedges and neat farms. They reminded him of the lands around Hathaway Hall—Annette's domain.

He would marry her and make it her kingdom forever.

The sudden thought caused him to blink. Marry her?

But of course. In all the time he had missed her, he had not realized he loved her. Now he did. He loved her with all his heart, mind, and body.

She made his life complete, and he wanted to share the rest of it with her. He wanted to share in her dreams of the school. He wanted her to share in his building projects for Hathaway Hall's farms. Most of all, he wanted to share her bed, and maybe someday, he and she would share children.

He had to convince her, but this time, the lucky feeling surging through him like the sea against the coast would not play him false. This time he would win. All the travel inconveniences melted away.

Sir Gerard rapped on the coach's ceiling. "Get this rig moving faster!"

Annette yanked at the stubborn weed and pulled its roots free from the clinging garden soil. It felt good to attack something she could see. For so long she had struggled against the children's ignorance. Fighting to educate them was like battling an invisible enemy. She knew it existed, but very seldom did she seem to inflict any wounds upon it. Only occasionally did the spark of understanding send a student leaping ahead in his studies. Mostly it was a bitter ground warfare, as she and her pupils slugged it out over the alphabet and the basics of arithmetic.

She set the weed in her basket to be added to the compost pile later. She gazed around at her flower bed. It bloomed in a riotous green, dotted with the vivid colors of sunshine yellow, dawn pink, and periwinkle blue, providing a vibrant contrast to the gray stone front of her cottage. She could hire a boy to do such a messy chore, but doing it herself filled her with satisfaction.

When the weather turned cold again, she would be among the boys and girls again, but for now she relished her solitude. With determination, she had made her life one of fulfillment and service to others. The annuity reserved from her brief fortune would keep her and Lucille for the rest of their days.

It was enough to expect from life. She convinced herself she was content. She applied her efforts to the flower bed.

The sound of a cleared throat behind her signaled she was no longer alone. Glancing backwards, she spied the tall form of the baronet.

She sprang to her feet. "Sir Gerard! I did not realize you were there."

"Good afternoon, Miss Courtney." He strolled forward with his easy elegant air and bowed. "I appreciated the opportunity to watch you work. You are a very energetic woman."

Blushing, she became aware of how she must look. Dirt clung to her gloves, her hair was in disarray, and grass stains colored her skirt, which was not her best dress. She brushed at the clumps clinging to her gloves. "Forgive me. I am not ready to receive callers."

He grasped her hands, not minding the dirt. "I hope I am more of a friend than a caller."

"Oh," she said in a small, breathless voice.

For a moment time slowed as she gazed up into his face. The sound of a chirping bird faded away. The perfume of the flowers hung heavy in the air and mingled with the beloved scent of him. A smile quirked his lips, and his brown eyes were tender.

Recollecting herself, she blinked. "I am surprised to see you here. I had expected you to remain in London until the Season ended."

"London was not like what I had anticipated," he said. "Upper Brampton drew me back."

He did not release her hands. She was conscious of how lightly, but firmly, he held them. She could not look away from him, drinking in the sight of his face. Neither did he glance away.

"I—we—the villagers and I are certainly glad you are back." Mention of the villagers reminded her of the impropriety of standing in her front garden, where the whole world could spot her with Sir Gerard. For an instant her training took over, and she started to tug her hands free. Then she stopped, discovering she did not care what anyone else thought. After so long without him, she wanted to be near him.

"Will you come in for tea?" she asked.

"Gladly," he said.

When they turned to enter the cottage, she noticed she did not see Silver Shadow tied along the road that ran in front of her cottage. "How did you get here, Sir Gerard? I do not see either a horse or carriage."

"I walked."

Remembering his insistence that she purchase her landau, she teased him, "You would put a carriage at my disposal when I called upon you, do you expect me to return the favor?"

He laughed lightly. "But of course. You do not suppose that a man of my rank should be seen tramping through the Wiltshire countryside."

"I would think such a man would ride a horse if not in a carriage." She smiled at him, enjoying the rapport between them. "Why did you not ride Silver Shadow?"

"I sold him in London."

Stunned at the abrupt announcement, she stopped in the doorway to the parlor. "You sold Silver Shadow! But you love that horse."

For the first time, he glanced away from her gaze. "Yes, but I had to."

Concerned, she placed her hand on his arm. In a gentler tone, she asked, "What happened?"

He studied her for a moment before taking a deep breath. "I sold him to pay my gambling debts."

The words sounded ugly to her ears, but she did not shrink away from him. Even though she heard the condemning words from his own lips, she would not judge him. She did not know the whole story. But she did know she loved him. She would trust him.