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‘You trained that black beast from yesterday,’ she said, putting it all together.
‘And many more like him,’ Ransleigh said tightly. ‘For all the good it does me now.’
All horses he could no longer ride. Theo felt an ache in her chest. One more loss, one more joy stolen from him. How terribly cruel life could be!
‘It must have taken remarkable skill, just to get him to accept a rider,’ she said, wanting to ease the tension in that clenched jaw. ‘He looked like he would have enjoyed running us down.’
He rewarded her with a slight smile. ‘He would have, the evil-tempered devil.’
The urge to linger and question him further teased at her. Clenching her teeth against it, she told herself she should bid him farewell before this intriguing man charmed her any further.
‘Well, I must be off. You’re welcome to call any time at Thornfield Place and meet the children. Or not, as you choose,’ she added, unhappily aware he was unlikely to take her up on that offer.
Before the groom could assist her, Ransleigh offered his hand. ‘You were right,’ he said as he lifted her into the saddle. ‘I can do it, if I want to.’
Our last contact, she thought with a little sigh as he released her boot. ‘I am sure you will soon be able to do whatever you wish, Mr Ransleigh. Thank you again for giving my orphans a chance.’
With a wave of her riding crop and a foolish sense of regret, she turned Firefly and set off towards Thornfield.
She felt the warmth of his gaze on her back, all the way to the turn in the drive.
* * *
By the time she’d ridden most of the way home, Theo had convinced herself she’d not really responded as strongly to Mr Ransleigh as she’d first imagined. After all, it was only natural that she would feel comfortable around a man who’d spent nearly as many years with Wellington’s army as she had, especially after more than a month of dealing with civilians.
Nor did she deny he attracted her. The scarred face and eye patch did nothing to detract from his commanding profile, nor the missing arm from the vitality that emanated from him, despite the fact that he was not fully recovered from his injuries. Indeed, in her eyes, the marks of the suffering he’d endured in defending his country enhanced his already arresting physical attributes.
But that attraction, like the welcome relief of finding herself once again in a soldier’s company, had doubtless been heightened by not having experienced the feeling in so long.
She could only imagine how much more potent his appeal would be when he was fully healed. A heated flutter stirred in her stomach.
Fortunately, she was too old and wise now to be caught again in passion’s snare. Or she certainly should be—she need only remember the agony she’d suffered over Marshall.
Still, she was a woman, and vain though it might be, she was glad she’d worn the most attractive of her gowns for the call. She’d couldn’t help being pleased that, if her instincts were correct, that compelling man had found her attractive as well.
A flush of embarrassment heated her face as she suddenly recalled she’d actually told this wealthy, well-connected bachelor how handsome she thought him.
Drat candour! Hopefully, he would only think the comment shameless—and not suppose her to have marital designs upon him. The very idea that he might interpret her comment in that manner made her a little sick.
Nothing she could do now to correct that impression, if he had so interpreted her remark. With any luck, there’d be no further need to contact him, so any awkwardness on that score could be avoided.
Then perspective returned, and she had to laugh at herself. How foolish of her to think this commanding man, whose wealth and pedigree doubtless focused upon him the attention of every woman in the vicinity, would think twice about any supposed lures cast his way by a plain, outspoken spinster—with a crowd of orphans in tow!
The only lasting result of her visit today was her landlord’s agreement to lease her the property. Once she was immersed in overseeing its renovation, adding that task to those of getting Thornfield running properly and finding the necessary teachers, today’s interlude would fade to a pleasant but vague memory.
Ignoring the eddies in her stomach that warned otherwise, Theo fixed that conclusion firmly in mind and turned Firefly down the drive to Thornfield’s stables.
Chapter Six
Dom awoke the next morning with a sense of anticipation, the first he could recall since his injuries. Questioning the source of that unexpected sensation, he remembered meeting his unusual new neighbour the previous day, and smiled.
The drive to the stone barn had been energising. As he recalled, there was a tilbury in the carriage house and a high-stepper with a bit more fire to pull it. After his successful driving of the pony cart, he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t end up flat on his back in the mud again if he tried taking it out.
This morning, he decided as he rang for Henries, he would.
* * *
After consuming breakfast with a keener appetite than he’d possessed in some time, Dom walked down to the stables to collect horse, carriage and a stable boy to watch them, should he need to stop and inspect a field or cottage. It required but a moment’s thought to decide where he meant to drive first.
Miss Branwell had invited him to call at Thornfield Place, and so he would.
Setting the carriage in motion, he wondered at himself. After all his firm intentions to avoid contact with the neighbours, here he was, the day after meeting Miss Branwell, ready to encounter her again. If he felt like visiting, he ought to first return the Squire’s call.
He pictured his bluff neighbour and frowned. Stopping there didn’t appeal in the least.
Seeing Miss Branwell again did.
Perhaps it was because she didn’t expect anything of him but to be her landlord. Unlike every other resident in the county, she didn’t know his reputation, had no connections to hunting or its enthusiasts—she didn’t even recognise the name of the great Meynell! And, praise heaven, she wasn’t evaluating his worth on the Marriage Mart.
Indeed, Miss Branwell, self-confessedly ignorant of English customs, might not even be aware that, with his wealth and connections, he was still a prime matrimonial prospect.
No, all she had seen was a dishevelled one-armed soldier walking down a lane—and decided to offer him employment. He laughed out loud.
Direct, plain-spoken and completely focused on her objectives, she worked and thought like a soldier. Only she was much better to look at.
Picturing her immediately revived the strong attraction she’d inspired yesterday. His mind explored the idea of dalliance and liked it, his body adding its enthusiastic approval. However, Miss Branwell was still a miss, a gently born virgin. As strongly as he was attracted to her character and her person, he’d never debauched an innocent, and he wasn’t about to start.
With a disappointed sigh, he allowed himself to regret she wasn’t the widowed Mrs Branwell. They couldn’t, alas, be lovers. But perhaps they could be friends. A friend who knew him only as the man he was now.
There was freedom in that: no preconceived notions to meet, no pressure to perform up to the standard of what he’d once been.
Besides, he had to admit he was curious to see this assortment of orphans she’d collected. He tried, and failed, to imagine the problems one must overcome in order to follow the army with a troop of children in tow, then to transport them to England.
He shook his head and laughed again. What a remarkable girl!
Without doubt, calling on her would be much more interesting and enjoyable than perusing the London papers to determine the current value of hunters.
* * *
An hour later, at Thornfield Place, Theo was sipping a second cup of coffee while her aunt finished breakfast when Franklin informed them that Mr Ransleigh had called.
Surprise—and a delight far greater than it should have been—sent a thrill through her. After instructing the butler to inform the visitor that the ladies would receive him directly, she turned to her aunt.
‘Thank goodness I had Mrs Reeves straighten the parlour first thing this morning,’ she said, trying to pass off her enthusiasm as approval of prudent housekeeping. ‘It appears my new landlord is paying us a visit.’
Her aunt opened her lips to reply, then froze, her eyes opening wide. ‘Did Franklin say a Mr Ransleigh had called?’ she asked at last.
‘Yes. Mr Dominic Ransleigh. The building I want to turn into the children’s school sits on his land. I told you I planned to call on the landlord yesterday, remember?’
‘Of course I remember. But why didn’t you tell me your landlord was a Ransleigh?’
‘The owner of that much land would doubtless be a member of a prominent family. I didn’t think it mattered which one.’
‘Not matter? Good heavens, child, don’t be ridiculous! One must always be aware of the social position of the individuals with whom one associates—as you army folk want to know the rank of a military acquaintance.’
