CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“I particularly like the word tup. Repeat after me, Rosalind: tup, tupping, tupper, tuppee.”
Mrs Tadlow. Widow, mother and ten-year resident of Ingleford Lodge.
“Why didn’t you wait, Daphne? I was six months from coming home,” Benedict murmured.
Rosalind didn’t mean to linger by the slightly ajar door listening in, but…yes, she did actually. It was fascinating to see this side of Ben.
The soft voices continued from the bedchamber, so she strained her neck around the door to peer in. Benedict was sitting on the bed, stroking Daphne’s hair. It was so sweet. Was Daphne the reason that he’d never married? Looking at his tender face, she suspected so.
A weak voice spoke from the bed. “If it wasn’t me, it would have been Susan…and I couldn’t. She wasn’t strong enough.” He bent down and kissed her forehead, but even from here, Rosalind could see the woman flinch at the touch and noted Benedict’s hand clench at his side.
Gently pulling the door closed on them, she leaned back against it. The lady’s sister, Susan, was a year younger than Daphne. Married to an agreeable squire in the next village over, she was rather a fragile woman. Daphne was correct: she wouldn’t have survived two weeks married to Sir Hector.
Rosalind left them to their reminiscing and made her way to the downstairs. It was still rather early but she was sure there would be someone about and, indeed, bumped into a harassed-looking Cooper.
Sitting in the breakfast room, crunching on her toast, she was suddenly disturbed by the main door opening and slamming. A light tread, which she recognised as Lucas’s, sped through the hall. Gosh, he was up and about early.
“Lucas?” The footsteps stopped at her call. “Lucas? I know that’s you. Come in and have some coffee.”
The footsteps slowly came nearer, and she relaxed into the chair. “You’re up ear–”
She stopped talking as he entered the room, closed the door behind him and walked right past the table to stand with his back to the fire.
His hair was loose and scruffy, with dark-blond stubble adorning his chin. Still wearing the clothes from the night before, he looked disreputable, creased, and there was a downright dangerous glint in his eye.
“Miss Trewent.”
Oh dear. That didn’t bode well. “Major. Are you well?”
“Fine.”
Why did people always say that when they were nothing of the sort? “Did you take an early ride?” She suspected he hadn’t, but wondered exactly where he had been.
“No.”
Oh good grief. She stood and stomped up to him as he lounged by the fireplace. He smelled of…
“You smell of lavender.”
“Do I?” His brow arched up but his lips stayed grim and tight.
Rosalind felt the breath catch in her throat. Looking at the state of him, he must have been at the inn all night. But why would he smell of… There was only one reason she could think of. A cold descended upon her; it moved slowly, spreading through her limbs and leaching the colour from her face. “I thought you would stay within reach, in case Lady Webster needed you,Doctor?”
“I was only a short ride away and was always available to come back, if required.”
Not if he’d been tumbling Maggie. She closed her eyes as horrible visions of the barmaid and Lucas assaulted her senses. Maggiewasmore suited to him, unlike her own smaller delicate self.
Slowly, she looked up at him. His grey eyes were hard and cold. Never had she seen this side of him; she suspected only his enemies on the battlefield had and it made her feel quite peculiar.
Well, she wasn’t going to stay here and have that look bestowed upon her. He was obviously miffed about something but she’d be damned if she was going to ask, especially if his response was to tumble the first woman he saw.
“I shall leave you to your breakfast, Major, as I can see my presence is a…nuisance.” She turned to go but a hand caught her wrist and brought her flush against him, her back against his body. The smell of lavender smothered her and she wanted to retch.
“Why didn’t you tell me about Stone coming back late?”
“I beg your pardon?” She tried to turn but both of his hands were now on her upper arms, gentle but tight.
