Page 7 of Once Ruined, Twice Shy

She laid a hand on his arm. “Later. She should be settled before she’s questioned. If Dr Hayward is available, he’ll be here very shortly. Now, will you take tea with me?”

“But it’s not yet eleven. I’m meant to be doing my accounts at the moment.”

“You have no heart, son of mine. How can you think of accounts when you have an injured person in your house, and my nerves are stretched almost to breaking point by this calamity?”

Conall gave up the battle. When Mama required his presence, he was generally obliged to give it. Tea would help his nerves too, and they could find some topic of conversation to distract him from his memories of Josephine. His mother knew well enough not to mention the subject these days.

He would deal with the issue of the young woman later, depending on the doctor’s prognosis. To his shame, he found himself conflicted over whether or not he wanted it to be a good one. Should the pretty stranger be forced to reside under his roof for a day or two more, he wouldn’t mind at all.

She was the most interesting thing that had happened to him in a long time.

Chapter 5

When Hestia awoke, it was to a feeling of hazy euphoria. She was warm, comfortable— except for a slight twinge in her back—and Frederick was gazing down at her with a look of such softness on his face.

Wait. This man was not Frederick; he was too dark. She let out a gasp of horror.

Immediately, a firm, masculine hand took hold of her own.

“Don’t be alarmed—you’re quite safe. I am Conall Methuen, and you’re in one of the guest rooms at Spyle Court. You tumbled off your horse into a rhododendron. Remember?”

She nodded, and the euphoria was replaced by despondency. So, she’d really done it. She’d gone along with Frederick’s scheme—now she was going to have to make the best of it.

She blinked away the blurriness that swam in front of her eyes, and gazed at the man seated by the bed. His left side was turned towards her. It was hard to read a man’s soul when you could only see half his face, yet what she saw did nothing to dispel Frederick’s description of Methuen as a hard-hearted churl and a relentless enemy. His square jaw looked set as if he were clenching it, and his mouth was a thin, unsmiling line. The one eye she could see was dark-lashed, and almost black in colour, so she couldn’t tell where the pupil ended, and the iris began. A thick eyebrow edged a shapely, intelligent brow, and Methuen’s nose had that patrician straightness much favoured amongst the English aristocracy. He looked every inch the ‘cold fish’ Frederick had described, but the heat of his hand was a puzzle. As was the fact that he hadn’t yet removed it.

“I’m Hestia Norton. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir. I apologise for the dramatic circumstances and hope I haven’t put you out.”

He patted her captured hand with his free one. It was, she noticed, gloved, whereas the other was not. The same warmth, a little dimmed, radiated through the black leather.

“I ought to make you my bow since we’re making introductions. But under present circumstances, I shall desist. It can wait until we are both standing on our own two feet.”

A line had appeared between the edge of his mouth and his cheek. The ghost of a dimple? How handsome he might be if he smiled.

She had given him an invented name, culled from her surname of Normanton. Though Essex and Wiltshire were a long way apart, she had no wish to be identified as the disgraced daughter of Colonel Normanton, a naïve young woman who’d run off with a common soldier. Her parents must never know the extent of her shame, must never find out she was not married to her seducer.

“How do you feel?”

At least in this, she need not be deceitful. “I have the pain in my back still, though it’s much diminished. Laudanum, I assume?”

He nodded. “Dr Hayward departed an hour and fifteen minutes ago. He has left a bottle and dosing spoon for you when the pain becomes unbearable, or when you need to sleep. Bed rest has been advised for the pulled muscle in your back, followed by gentle exercise—walking for preference. As soon as the pain is under control, we may restore you to your family. Although, I can’t say I’ve heard of any Nortons hereabouts.”

This was it. This was where the duplicity proper began. If only she felt less muddleheaded, she’d be able to think of a way out of it, another excuse to make. But no. There was too much at stake. Frederick had said he’d marry her, even if she failed in this enterprise. But if she didn’t hoodwink Methuen and stop him thwarting Frederick’s financial ventures, what would they have to live on?

She removed her hand from Methuen’s, lest he feel it trembling. “I don’t live here—I have come to visit friends of my family. I’ve never been to their house before now. The stage arrived so late last night, I was forced to put up at the inn rather than complete my journey.”

“Have you far to go? I will do what I can to help you. Where’s your luggage?”

“Still at the inn in Laycott. I hired a hack this morning to carry on, as I was told I’d not far to go still, and it was a lovely morning for riding—for a change. In truth, I thought I’d reached my destination, but clearly, this is the wrong house.”

“Where were you aiming for?” He rubbed his left hand against his right, massaging it. What lay beneath that concealing glove? Had he lost the use of his fingers as well as his eye?

“Thatcham Hall. The Dancey family lives there. You must be near neighbours, I suppose. Though I confess, geography is not my strong point.”

He stiffened, both hands clenching together. Anger flashed across his countenance, but in an instant, it was gone, to be replaced by a look of polite enquiry.

“Indeed? I regret I no longer have anything to do with that family. As far as the Danceys are concerned, you’re currently among enemies.”

“Oh?” Frederick had already told her about the enmity, although he’d not given her the story behind it. He had merely said she must claim to be a guest of the Danceys of Thatcham Hall. This would prevent Methuen from making any further enquiries about her, as he no longer spoke to that particular family.