Bought for Revenge(13)

Take care of my daughter, sir!

A sudden, delicate cough from his groom settled the matter.

'You won't want to be keeping your horses standing too long, Major, there's a sly breeze coming off the moors.'

Lucas drew back, but when he looked at Annabelle she was not blushing,  there was no conscious, awkward look. Instead her eyes were brimming  with laughter and the desire to take her in his arms was greater than  ever.

Warning bells clamoured in his head. Lucas knew he must be careful. To  become enamoured of Annabelle Havenham would not suit his purpose at  all. He decided he would have to forgo the pleasure of seeing her, at  least for a while.

Lucas was in Annabelle's thoughts a great deal over the next few days.  The morning following their curricle drive she looked for him on her  morning ride, but there was no familiar figure on the skyline. She was  not perturbed and guessed he was very busy at the manor. She longed to  ride over to Morwood to see him, but could think of no valid reason to  do so. When a week went by and there was still no sign of him, she  wondered if he, too, had heard the rumours and decided that they should  not be seen so much together. Perhaps he was staying away to protect her  reputation. That thought gave way to another, far less comfortable one.  Perhaps he did not want to raise hopes he had no intention of  fulfilling.

If that were so, then Annabelle told herself sternly that she really  must not care. She had gone on very comfortably before Lucas Monserrat  arrived in Stanton and she would continue to do so. But it did not  prevent an unfamiliar restlessness gnawing away at her and she decided  to work it off by walking into Stanton to pay a visit to old Mrs Hall.  However, when she reached the main street and saw Lucas coming towards  her she gave him a smile of genuine pleasure. He stopped and touched his  hat, his own smile putting a brooding look to flight.

'Miss Havenham, good day to you, ma'am.' His eyes fell to her basket. 'Are you shopping?'

'No, sir. I bring a few small things for Mrs Hall. I call upon her every week, if I can.'

'And you walk here alone? Should you not have a maid to accompany you?'

'In a town where I am known by everyone? I do not think it necessary.'

'And how long do you stay with Mrs Hall?'

'Long enough to catch up on all the local news.'

He grinned. 'That cannot take you very long at all in such a small place.'

'About half an hour.' She laughed up at him. 'But it is good to stay in touch with old neighbours.'

'Half an hour, you say?' He took out his watch. 'Then I shall be waiting by the market cross at eleven to escort you home.'

She was inordinately pleased at the thought and made no effort to  discourage him. He touched his hat again to her as they parted.

'Until eleven, then, Miss Havenham!'

Lucas hurried back to the Red Lion, where his man was waiting for him in his room.

George Stebbing had served under Lucas in the Peninsula and at Waterloo,  where he had lost an arm. When they returned to England Lucas had taken  him on as his valet and had never regretted it. Lucas prided himself  that he was not dependent upon any man to dress and shave him, so  Stebbing's infirmity was of little consequence and like Rudd, Lucas's  groom, Stebbing's loyalty to his master was absolute. Now he waited  silently for Lucas's orders.

'Send a message to the manor, if you please, and tell Greenwood that I  will not be there to see his man about the roof tiles until later-four,  at the earliest. He can handle all the arrangements until then.'

'Very good, Major. You are going out?'

'Yes, once I have changed my coat. I'll wear the new superfine with the  brass buttons, George. Can you find it for me? Hurry, man, I do not have  long.'

'I saw you talking to Miss Havenham in the market, Major. Would it be the lady you are off to meet?'                       
       
           



       

'And what if I am?'

'Knowing your, er, interest in the family, sir, I have been keeping my ears open.'

'Oh?'

With his one hand Stebbing held up the blue coat for his master. Lucas  shrugged himself into it and stood before the long mirror to rearrange  his neck cloth.

'Miss Havenham and her father are very well thought of in Stanton, sir.'

'I am well aware of that-what is your point?'

'Business is one thing.' Stebbing dragged the clothes brush across  Lucas's shoulders. 'If the family is brought down because they can't  meet their obligations, well, there's no helping that.'

'But? I feel you are about to admonish me, George.'

'I wouldn't do that, sir, but … '

Lucas met his man's eyes in the mirror. 'Out with it, man. We have known  each other long enough for you to say what you think.' He added wryly,  'You are not usually so reticent.'

'Well, sir, if you wants the word with no bark on it, I don't think  people here would take too kindly to your seducing Miss Havenham.'

Lucas's brows snapped together. 'Damn you, George, do you think that is my intention?'

Stebbing rubbed his chin. 'Your intention is to punish her father for  what he did to you, sir, and ruining his daughter would be one way of  doing it.'

A dull flush crept into Lucas's cheek. It was so close to the truth that  he could not deny it, but until the words were spoken aloud he had not  considered the enormity of what he had planned.

'I have no intention of ruining Miss Havenham,' he said at last. 'I plan  to offer her marriage as a means of saving her father from total ruin.  To that end I am befriending her. It will be better, when the time  comes, that she does not find me totally repulsive.'

The sceptical look in his servant's eye made him look away.

'You can try that, Major, but I can't see as how she could do otherwise, once she discovers what you are about.'

Lucas went out, trying to banish Stebbing's words from his mind, but  they were lodged there, niggling away. Damn George, he had it all wrong.  He had no intention of seducing Annabelle Havenham. It was not as if he  intended to bed her, then abandon her.

But you do plan to make her fall in love with you.

He twisted away from the uncomfortable thought. Hell and confound it, he  had changed his plans once with regard to Samuel's daughter. He would  not do so again.

Annabelle was already approaching the market cross when he arrived. Lucas schooled his face into a smile.

'Let me carry your basket for you, Miss Havenham.'

She released the wicker basket into his hand and took his arm. The High  Street was busy and he knew the sight of them strolling off together  like this would do nothing to halt the speculation. Let the townspeople  gossip, there could be no harm in it. But while Lucas conversed  pleasantly with his companion about everyday things, he found George's  words would not leave his brain. She would be horrified when his plans  were revealed, but she would learn to accept it. Wouldn't she?

He pushed the disturbing thoughts aside. He need not think about that. Not yet.

'Do you often walk into Stanton, Miss Havenham?'

'Not as often as I would like-there is much for me to do at Oakenroyd.  Not only keeping house for my father, but running the estate, too. As he  grows older he passes more responsibility on to me.'

'That must be a heavy burden.'

'No, why?' She looked at him, genuinely surprised. 'I love Oakenroyd and  want the best for it and our people. Do you think administration is a  task best suited to a man, Mr Monserrat?'

Her grey eyes held a laughing challenge and he could not help smiling back at her.

'I would not dare to suggest such a thing.'

'I am very glad. I take advice from Mr Telford, our lawyer, and also  from the steward, but that is no more than any conscientious landowner  should do.'

'Of course.'

'Our neighbours are very good, too, and are always willing to give me  the benefit of their experience. We are fortunate to live amongst such  good people.'

'You are indeed.' They had come to a junction and he stopped. 'Do we take the road, Miss Havenham, or is there a shorter way?'

She pointed to a narrow track.

'That is by far the quickest and the prettiest, too, so let us take that.'

The sun was warm on their backs and as they left the town the plaintive  cries of a curlew carried to them from the upland pastures. They talked,  although Lucas could not recall afterwards the subject. All he could  remember was the sparkle in her eyes when she was animated and how much  he wanted to kiss that smiling mouth.                       
       
           



       

Their path lay alongside a stream, swollen with spring rains and when  the path narrowed he fell behind, enjoying the view of her confident  stride, the sway of her hips that made the skirts of her muslin gown  dance about her ankles. And what pretty ankles, too: neatly encased in  their half-boots, above which he occasionally caught the glimpse of a  silk stocking. His musings carried him off into a daydream, where he was  removing those same stockings and kissing the dainty foot beneath …