Why hadn’t she returned to him immediately upon learning of Paul’s death? Too much pride,she supposed. In the beginning she’d believed Lord Latimer when he claimed he’d see her taken care of, except living under the eaves of his house and jumping to do his bidding was not what she had expected. She had only herself to blame. It seemed all her life she’d believed, as a gentlewoman, men would take care of her. How naïve she’d been. Especially after her gran had always warned her that a wise woman learned to take care of herself.
And now Andrew was gone... butthe tavernremained.
What is mine is yours.It was almost as if Andrew whispered the words in her ear.
Gemma fell to her knees and pulled the box holding her most personal belongings out from beneath the cot. She lifted the lid to reveal her mother’s miniature, a ruby ring Paul had given her to pledge their troth, and the stack of recipes and wisdom Gran had given her, recipes that had been handed down from one woman in her mother’s family to another. And there were letters. Gemma always saved her letters.
Andrew’s letter was on top.
She placed the Reverend Summerall’s letter into the box and unfolded the one from her uncle. He’d been a sailor in his younger years and had never returned to his native Scotland, but Gran had always held him dear. That is why Gemma had interrupted her journey to see him and she’d not been sorry. Andrew had written to be certain she had made it safely to London, and then hehad ended with the kindest words:We are the last of the MacMhuirichs and all either has of family. What is mine is yours. Never forget I am here.
The tavern in Maidenshop had been a rambling building in a charming village. The air was clear there. Not sooty like London.
And she was his only heir. This letter said as much.
Suddenly, Gemma was filled with purpose. It was a gamble, but she would not stay here waiting for Lord Latimer to try her door.
She’d been cheated out of much in her life because she’d relied on others. Now she was going to rely on herself. She was going to Maidenshop to claim her legacy.
Gemma crammed as much as she could carry into her large valise. The rest was of no value to her. She emptied out her box of treasures and letters and the precious recipes into that valise. She tucked an embroidered bag that held her herbs, teas, and salves into it, as well. Stoppered bottles of tonics would have to stay. She could mix them again.
For money, she had the ruby ring and what she’d earned from the Mayfair neighbors for her remedies. There was enough to help her make a new start.
Gemma snuck down the stairs without being seen and slipped out into the garden. She traveled through the alley. Within an hour she’d sold her ring. It had not fetched much. The stone was very small. Just like Paul. And his brother.
However, the money did pay her fare on the cheapest seat to Maidenshop—and her desperate hope for a new life.
And later, when she found herself settled on the top of a very crowded post on its way to Newmarket, she thought of the dear man whose death had given her a small ray of hope.
The wind wiped away her tears.
Chapter Two
Maidenshop, Cambridgeshire
“Kiss me,”Clarissa Taylor demanded as she spun around to face Ned Thurlowe. They traveled on a wooded path, not far from the house and yet out of sight from prying eyes.
The unfortunate problem was that Ned hadn’t been paying attention to anything she’d been saying on their walk. Including this demand. His mind was on his patients. As the only doctor in the area, his time was always in demand. He also took pride in his work whether it was setting a broken arm, battling a child’s fever, or even healing the abscess on a horse’s hoof. A country doctor had to be ready for anything, and Ned reveled in the challenges.
Besides, he and Clarissa had been betrothed for a little over two years. Yes, it was an unusually long waiting period before tying the knot, butthe truth was, Ned wasn’t that excited to marry. He’d only offered for her because after she’d been orphaned by her adopted parents, the Matrons of Maidenshop had decided her best course of action was marriage. She’d been two and twenty, a ripe age for matrimony. As a babe, she’d been left as a foundling on the church steps. The Reverend Taylor and his wife had taken her in and by all accounts had loved her dearly. Unfortunately, they were now dead and she had no family. She was dependent upon the charity of the villagers and lived with Squire Nelson and his family. Understanding what it was like to be a bastardandan unwanted member to the family, Ned had agreed with the matrons that someone honorable should secure her future... and thatsomeonehad turned out to be him.
He definitely wasn’t an ardent suitor. It had taken him a year to start using her given name. He kept forgetting. And he only had time to call on her once a week, although he prided himself on being punctual. He presented himself to her every Friday at precisely two o’clock in the afternoon for a fifteen-minute social call.
Dependent on the weather, they always walked this path. Usually, Clarissa prattled on about her week and he pretended to listen. He chose to focus his mind on matters that were important to him—such as scientific musings or his lecture series or even the future of The Garland tavern.
Ned was chairman of the Logical Men’s Society.For several generations the Society had called The Garland home. However, now that the owner, Old Andy, had passed, there was concern amongst the members of what would become of this meeting place that was so important to them. Then again, no one had placed a claim on the building. So far it had been theirs to use. Ned didn’t know if he should be concerned about the matter or not.
And he didn’t want to let his fellow members down. He enjoyed being in the Society. For once in his life, he felt he truly belonged. In London he was trailed by whispers. In Maidenshop, he was a valued member of the community.
So his mind wasbusywhen Miss Taylor made her demand and he walked right by her. He took several steps before he realized she was not with him.
Being a gentleman, he stopped—and then he comprehended what she’d said.Kiss her?
She’d even closed her eyes and puckered her lips. She waited, facing the direction where he’d been.
What should he do now?
Before he could make up his mind, Miss Taylor’s eyes opened. She gave a shake of her head as if surprised he was not where she’d expected him to be. She unpuckered her lips. Her lovely brows came together in vexation. A becoming shade of rose bloomed on her cheeks.
