Chapter Eleven
Prudence’s fingers were going numb. Once or twice she’d been on the verge of complaining about the way he was crushing them, but she’d been afraid he might let go altogether. And at least while he was holding her hand she had some connection with him.
He hadn’t spoken a word since telling her that there was no way out of their predicament but marriage. He’d never been what you’d call a chatty sort of man, but since then he’d become downright distant.
He was also walking slower and slower, dragging his feet, as though he was trying to put off reaching their destination for as long as possible. The only conclusion she could draw was that he was having serious second thoughts about marrying her. It was one thing admitting he wanted to bed her. But in the cold light of day perhaps he was starting to wonder if marrying her to get what he wanted was going a step too far.
Which was perfectly understandable, given the grief his last marriage had brought him. Especially since he hadn’t known her long enough to be sure she would take her marriage vows seriously.
‘There,’ he said grimly as they crested a rise. ‘That’s Bramley Park.’
He came to a complete standstill, gazing down at a substantial park spread out on the slopes of the next valley. A high stone wall divided the neatly landscaped grounds from the rougher grazing land on which they stood. There was so much parkland she couldn’t even see the house it surrounded.
‘That is where your aunt lives?’
He nodded.
‘She must be a wealthy woman.’ Only wealthy people had houses stuck in the middle of so much land, with high stone walls to keep ordinary people out.
‘Not really.’
‘Oh? But—’
‘Come on,’ he said impatiently, veering to the left and tugging her after him down the slope towards the wall which bisected the lower part of the valley.
At length, they came to a section where a couple of gnarled trees grew close to the wall, their branches arching over the top.
‘I should have asked,’ he said, turning to her with a wary expression. ‘Are you any good at climbing trees?’
‘Actually,’ she replied with a proud toss of her head, ‘I am very good at climbing trees.’ At least she had been as a girl. You couldn’t grow up on the fringes of the army without learning all sorts of things that decently brought up girls really shouldn’t. Or so Aunt Charity had frequently complained.
‘Is there anything you cannot do?’
He’d said it with a smile. A rather fond sort of smile, she thought. Or was she just looking for signs that he liked her well enough to think that marrying her wouldn’t be a total disaster? He might just as well be the kind of man to cover his doubts and fears by putting on a brave face.
‘I believe,’ she said, pushing back the waves of insecurity that had been surging over her ever since she’d kissed him, and he hadn’t been willing to kiss her again, ‘in rising to any challenge. Or at least that is what Mama used to say. Whenever things were hard, she’d say we mustn’t look upon them as stumbling blocks in our way, but as stepping stones across troubled waters.’
‘And what would she have said about walls that block our paths? That we should climb them?’
She was about to say yes, when something stopped her. ‘I don’t know about that. I mean, that wall was put there to keep people out, wasn’t it? And I’m starting to get a horrid feeling that we may be...um...breaking in.’
He’d already admitted he didn’t scruple to break into places when it suited him. He was one of those men who thought the end justified the means. Not that he was a bad man. Just a bit of a rogue, as Papa had been.
‘We’ve already had a farmer threatening us with his gun this morning. What if some gamekeeper mistakes us for poachers? It is just the sort of thing that would happen, the way my luck has been running recently.’
‘I can promise you faithfully that we won’t be mistaken for poachers once we get over that wall,’ he replied, drawing back his arm and tossing the valise over it. ‘And, what’s more, one cannot break into property that one owns oneself.’
‘You are trying to tell me that the estate that lies beyond that wall belongs to you?’ She eyed his clothing, then his black eye and his grazed knuckles dubiously. ‘I thought you said it was your aunt’s?’
‘I said my aunt lives there,’ he replied, planting his fists on his hips. ‘Prudence, never say you’ve been judging me by my appearance?’