A soft voice broke in, “Benedict, if you know–”
“Rosalind, do I interfere with your affairs?”
“No, but–”
“Then kindly offer me the same courtesy.” He turned to her and Lucas watched the man’s features soften. “Please.”
She nodded, stood, and with a soft, “Gentlemen,” left the room.
“Am I wasting my time?” Lucas repeated more forcefully.
“I would concentrate my efforts on the murders, if I were you.”
And really, that told him all he needed to know.
Two pairs of yellow woollen stockings, a pale-pink walking dress, three petticoats, a warm red cloak, a rather jaunty bonnet and a white muff – and yet she still felt chilled to the bone just standing in the draughty hallway. It was the nose, she decided; it felt like it was about to drop off.
Eventually Mrs Mereworth descended the stairs and donned her own sky-blue pelisse. They were taking the carriage to visit the Risleys; in the past, she had not particularly enjoyed it, as they had always compared her to their daughter, but now she just felt regret for not enjoying Miss Risley’s company more often – she’d been a sweet girl.
She spied Lucas leaving by a side door at the end of the hall, looking grim, so she flew down the steps of the main entrance to catch him. Why couldn’t Benedict confide more? It was making the investigation so much harder and she felt sure Lucas would understand whatever Benedict was up to.
“Lucas,” she called and he turned, his features lifting. He looked resplendent on this bright morning, and he certainly suited country attire. Buckskins clung to his muscled thighs, and she tried not to look too closely as he marched towards her, the leather delineating his hips and everything in between as the unbuttoned greatcoat blew aside. Indeed, the skins looked tighter than when they’d been on the buck.
His tall boots didn’t gleam with polish; instead, they were slightly battered as though they had seen their fair share of walking in the woods. Mud splattered down the sides and gave him a rough, slightly coarse appeal. This man didn’t care for the fripperies of fashion but the practicality of use.
The jacket, however, gave hints of his character: a tailcoat of deep brown, yet again, but with a waistcoat of shimmering copper. It reminded her of the remaining leaves she saw in the woods, still bravely hanging on to the near-nude branches, drained of summer colour by the cold but proudly gleaming with their crisp autumn glow.
A simply tied neckcloth of the purest white adorned his throat, contrasting with his lightly tanned skin. Finally, he wore a hat of felted beaver fur.
“Give my regards to the Risleys. I hear you’re visiting them?”
“Yes, I will. Be careful today, won’t you?” He carried no stick and taking in his size, she doubted if he needed one. It would take either a very brave man or a very stupid one to challenge Lucas Mainwaring. She felt a helpless quiver run through her – he was a picture of manly elegance and intoxicating power.
“Of course. But I’m sure that shot in the woods was just a stray poacher.”
Rosalind looked at him sternly – did he think she was bird-witted? “Lucas, do not tell clankers. It could just as easily have been someone aiming at you.”
“Clankers? What does Stone teach you? But I will be careful.” And so saying, he placed his hands on her shoulders in reassurance.
“And…don’t venture far,” she said. “It’s going to snow.”
“Snow?” He chuckled, looking up at the pale-blue sky. “I can’t see any sign of snow. ’Tis icy, but there is no sign of snow.” The damned man actually laughed and then smiled at her benignly. That was the problem with dreaming things – nobody ever believed you until it was too late and then they looked at you as though you’d caused it.
He must have seen her frown as he glanced around quickly and bent to impart a swift kiss on the nose. She wrinkled said nose. “You have very warm lips.”
“All the better to–” He shook his head. “Rosalind, you are bad for me. Every word you utter, I want to respond to in a…in a…” He paused.
“Yes?”
“In a wicked way,” he said gruffly.
Smiling, she patted his arm. “Oh good. I feel like Red Riding Hood in this cloak. I was just looking for the big, bad wolf.”
“Rosalind!”
“Mayhap you’ll chase me in the woods later?” She raised a brow in a hopeful manner.
“Rosalind…”
