Frederick smiled to reassure her that he was teasing.
Mostly.
Her shoulders and expression relaxed slightly. “Thankfully, it is Mrs. Penrose’s house at the end of this lane, and she poses neither you nor I any danger. She is the sweetest creature imaginable.”
“And a friend of yours, I take it?” He glanced at the basket strapped behind the saddle.
“A dear one,” Lady Radcliffe said, her voice softer than before.
The trees ahead opened to show an old, stone cottage surrounded by foliage and a few wildflowers. Its roof stood in need of repair, and a broken pane in one of the two windows had been covered with an empty flour sack. On the near side sat a garden, surrounded by a fence that had certainly been white at some point in the distant past.
They slowed their horses as they approached.
“I thank you for your company, Mr. Yorke,” Lady Radcliffe said.
Frederick tipped his hat. The lane had been distressingly short. He had been hoping for more time with her. He had made no headway at all.
Their heads came around as the sound of footsteps and sloshing water met their ears.
At the bend just ahead of the cottage appeared a woman in a gray dress, an apron, and a simple straw bonnet. Her brow dripped with sweat she could not wipe away, as her hands were occupied hefting buckets of water.
Frederick swung down from his horse, handed the reins distractedly to Lady Radcliffe, and hurried to the woman’s aid.
“Bless you, sir,” she said breathlessly as he took both buckets.
“Where would you like them?” he asked, his voice strained under their weight.
She moved her fingers one by one, wincing slightly. “By the door will do, I thank you.”
Frederick walked the final stretch to the house, then set the buckets next to the front door. It was a deep green, but the paint was dull and chipped and the handle loose.
“What are you doing, Eliza?” asked Lady Radcliffe, her voice full of concern.
The woman wiped her brow with the sleeve of her dress. “Fetching the water, my lady. Would you care to come in for some tea?” She looked to her ladyship, then Frederick.
“Oh,” Frederick hurried to say, “I shan’t trouble you. I will leave the two of you to converse.”
“You did me a good turn, sir,” she replied with a kind smile. “I insist.”
Frederick looked at Lady Radcliffe, who gave a little nod and raised the reins of his horse for him to fetch them.
He took them, then looped them through the iron ring attached to the side of the cottage before going to assist Lady Radcliffe.
“I can manage.” Her tone was kind but firm. She freed her leg from the leaping horn, arranged her skirts, and slipped down to the ground gracefully.
After the basket had been unfastened from behind the saddle, she introduced Frederick and her friend. Though Mrs. Penrose’s living conditions put her decidedly below the baroness’s station, Frederick could see why Lady Radcliffe would want to count such a kind woman amongst her friends. Despite the humble state of her clothing and home, the way she spoke and conducted herself gave the impression that she had not always lived in such humble conditions.
Mrs. Penrose opened the door and led them into a simple room that acted as both sitting room and kitchen. The muted light from the cloudy day filtered through hand-sewnmuslin curtains, and the smell of damp wool permeated the room. She invited them to have a seat and went straight to the stove to boil a pot of water.
“Where do you hail from, Mr. Yorke?” she asked.
“I came from London, ma’am.”
“I thought I recognized some of thetonabout you,” she said with a smile before hanging the pot on the fire. “And how do you know Lady Radcliffe?”
Frederick and her ladyship shared a quick glance.
“We do not,” Lady Radcliffe said. “We only met yesterday. He happened upon me on the lane to your house just now.” The glint in her eye made Frederick wonder if she truly believed their encounter to be happenstance.
