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“Who is there?” he called out, as the figure neared. Whoever they were, they clearly had not seen him.
The shadowy apparition froze. “My Lord?”
Rose…He knew that voice as keenly as he knew his own. Hurriedly, he folded his sleeve back over the hidden blade.
“Miss Parker, is that you?” He feigned ignorance.
She took a few steps forward, a convenient shard of moonlight revealing her beautiful face. Her cheeks were puffed from the exertion of wielding a rather large metal bucket. “I didn’t see you there, My Lord.” She attempted to curtsey but could not quite manage it with the weight of her cargo. “I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you. I didn’t know you would be walking here.”
“What are you doing?” Dorian nodded to the bucket.
“I was asked to fetch coal from the outbuilding by the lake. The stocks by the laundry are almost depleted,” she explained, though it smarted of jest to Dorian. There were coal stores located all over the estate, and the one by the lake was the farthest from the house.
He frowned. “Who sent you?”
“Um… the housemaids said they would be cold in the night, and asked if I would go for them, as they had to do their evening rounds.” She did not seem to realize she had been foxed, and Dorian did not know if he ought to tell her.
What if it makes her feel as though she is not welcome? Although, he suspected it was merely a matter of envy. The footmen had been talking about Rose with increasing frequency, much to Dorian’s annoyance, but he knew there was a possessiveness between the housemaids and the footmen. They were likely trying to teach her of her place by subtle means that would not get them into trouble with Mrs. Whittaker.
“That was very kind of you,” Dorian said instead. “However, I do not think you should be walking this path alone at such an hour. If they ask you to do so again, you must say that you will only go if you have company. And go to the coal store by the stables, rather than the one by the lake. It is never without a fresh supply.”
Rose looked crestfallen, as though she had just realized she had been fooled. “Oh… I did not know about that one.”
“You will know for next time,” he assured.
Her eyes brightened in the moonlight. “Yes, I suppose I shall. Thank you, My Lord. I won’t feel like such a dolt now because of you.” She readjusted the bucket in her arms. “I should be getting back, so I can stow this in their bed-chambers before they can reveal their joke. There’s nothing so disappointing as a jest that isn’t allowed its conclusion.”
She is as sharp as a needle, this one.He almost pitied the housemaids for playing this trick on her, for they had chosen a target who already had the thick layer of armor that life had forced her to don. Indeed, part of him hoped she might retaliate, though he did not want her to get into any conflict with Mrs. Whittaker. He had not been lying about her infamous right-hook.
“Perhaps, you would… uh… care to join me on my walk instead?” he blurted out. “You can leave the coal bucket outside their bed-chambers, and they will still not receive the satisfaction of their jest. And… um… it is a beautiful night.”
Rose faltered. “That sounds very diverting, My Lord, but I should really head back to the house. I don’t want anyone to think I’m neglecting my duties, and I certainly don’t want anyone gossiping about me if they should happen to… see us walking together.” She shifted the coal bucket onto her right arm.
“Have you heard anyone gossiping about you? Did Mrs. Whittaker not conceal where you were when you accompanied me to Skelton Bay?” Hudson had promised that there would be no evidence that the staff could use against Rose. If Dorian found out that the truth had leaked, even just a little bit, there would be hell to pay.
Rose shook her head. “No, nobody had asked me about where I was when I went with you to Skelton Bay, but I heard some whisperings that a harlot had gone with you both at Lord Bentley’s behest. I would hate for them to think that I’m the harlot.”
Dorian relaxed a touch. “I assure you, as your employer, that no-one will have cause to gossip. Besides, I know these grounds as I know my own hands, and we will be protected by the darkness.”
“And what am I to do with this, My Lord?” Rose lifted up the bucket.
“Deposit it there, in the trees. You can decide, when we return, whether you are feeling generous enough to take it to the housemaids,” he said, with a slight smile.Though I do hope you do not.
Rose hesitated. “Very well, I think a walk would be exceedingly pleasant to take away the heat of the day. My legs get rather sore from all the crouching, so I’d be glad to stretch them somewhat.”
Her thighs brushing against mine…He scolded himself furiously for even thinking that when she had spoken innocently of pains. As penance, he reached out and took the coal bucket from her and carried it to the tree line, where he hid it among the shadows and undergrowth there.
“Did you want to walk by the fishing lake, My Lord?” she asked, as he came back.
He shook his head. “No, I have another destination in mind. I think you will like it.” He offered her his arm. “Do tell me if your legs begin to hurt again. The walk is not too far, but I do not want you exerting yourself.”
She laughed that sweet, intoxicating laugh. “I won’t, My Lord. I’m tough as old boots.”
You are nothing like an old boot, Rose.She was smooth, supple calfskin, not weathered leather. If he closed his eyes, he could still feel how soft her skin was, when her forearm had bumped against his on the horse. But he would not close his eyes and think of that, for that was a downward spiral he did not wish to tumble down in her presence.
Tentatively, she placed her hand upon his arm, and they set off through the expanse of cleared woodland that she had already come through. The walk he had in mind would take them around the southernmost shore of the lake, but he would not make her walk through the perils of the circular trail.
I am putting you in enough danger by having you at my side. I would not tempt fate any further…For, as he had said, no-one knew what threats and assailants were hiding in the shadows of the forest, waiting for an opportunity to strike.
