*~~*~~*
Elinor was unaware, of course, that she and the annoying Sir Caleb Howell had actually mirrored each other’s moves when they reached their separate homes.
Jane had managed not to shriek when Elinor had dripped her way into the kitchen, but it was a close thing. Within moments, she’d almost stripped her mistress, dragging her upstairs and scolding quite loquaciously along the way.
“What were you thinking? Getting yourself soaked like this. Did you fall in? This is the sort of thing that’ll set you up for an inflammation of the lungs, you mark my words.”
“I…”
“Nevermind. I don’t want to hear it, because I don’t doubt the story would give me nightmares for weeks.”
Unfastening the last of the sodden garments, she handed Elinor a thick robe. “Here, Miss Elinor. Go and sit by the fire a bit, and I’ll be getting you a couple of towels and a hot cup of tea.”
Elinor’s lips twitched. “Ah, that’ll be wonderful, Jane. Thank you. Tea and towels. The answer to everything.”
Jane shot her a glance. “And you’d better believe it.”
She flounced out—there was no other word for it—leaving her mistress snuggling into the robe and poking at the low fire which had kept her room reasonably warm. Another log or two would light up the room and send warmth circling to all four corners.
Running her fingers through her damp hair in an attempt to untangle it, Elinor thought about the events of the day. And of course, being a woman, her musings quickly wandered to Sir Caleb Howell.
Even soaking wet, it could not be denied that he was handsome.
Not the sleek, elegant type of handsome that so many society gentlemen affected, but the genuine, nice-chest, firm-thighs, broad-shoulders (that owed nothing to padding) type of handsome.
Setting looks aside, she acknowledged that his conversation was edgy, challenging almost, as if daring her to not be one of those simpering misses. He was not reticent in stating his opinions, and had clearly no intention whatsoever of being either impressed or cowed by her title.
Which, given that his status wasn’t to be sneezed at…she shrugged. They weren’t far off from being social equals. Although if it came to reputations? Well, that was another matter.
Elinor sighed. She’d really put her foot in it this time. Of course, London would have moved on to the newest scandal by now, but she was well aware that she had only to step into any one of the many “important” houses in town…and the story of that slap would immediately resurface.
No, she could never go back to that. A thought that actually brought more comfort than it should. Here was where she was happiest. She was a Molliney of Molliney Park, and her heart belonged here. The beauty of the land, the lush air of the forests…a much better place to live than one where the noise was endless, and the smells nigh unbearable sometimes.
But what would become of her? She had no idea.
Jane returned, arms filled with more towels, a dry gown, and a hairbrush.
“Right then.” She dropped everything onto Elinor’s bed. “Do you need a bath? How dirty was the pond you fell into?”
Elinor had to chuckle. “A bath? No, I already had one, thank you. Honestly? It wasn’t even a pond. It was just the rising water coming over the banks. And I didn’t fall, but I had to lean into it to rescue a dog.”
“Oh no, poor thing.” Jane, whose affinity for animals in trouble was well known, paused and stared at her. “Was it hurt badly?”
“Not at all. His foot had become trapped by a log that had floated downstream and jammed into some rocks. I was able to pull it loose, and he hopped out as spry as could be.”
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Where is he?” Jane frowned. “You didn’t leave him out there in this terrible weather, did you?”
“No, of course not.” Elinor pulled her gown over her head and moved closer to the now bright fire. “He…um…”
“He what?”
Elinor sighed. “He went home with Sir Caleb Howell.”
Jane blinked. Then shot a very pointed look at Elinor. “You did not mention anywhere in this story of yours, that you had met Sir Caleb, Miss Elinor.”
