“There’s an article in the local paper,” she explained. “They mentioned your visit.”
But why the distrustful attitude? Had London gossip traveled this far? Surely not the print shop caricature?Lord, no.His estate manager, Williams, would likely have spread about Dominic’s intention to visit. “And you are?”
“Miss Jenner, my lord.”
She spoke well for a country lass. Some years past twenty, and still unmarried, judging by the lack of rings on her slender fingers. He was pleased to find a pretty woman here, miles from a big town. Not a good welcome, however, for her eyes remained wary. “My carriage ended up in a ditch, and I have need of the wheelwright,” he said affably. “Is the fellow inside?”
“I… er… yes… he is.” After an annoyed shake of her head, she said, “He’s busy.”
Rendered curious by the flush creeping over her cheeks, he hesitated, then replaced his hat. “I must have a word with him. Good day to you.”
“Good day, milord.” With a bob, she hurried away.
When Dominic reached the door, he turned. But she’d disappeared from view down the street. She must have almost run. He stepped into the dim interior, breathed in the smells of sawdust and sweat. The wheelwright stood buck naked, a towel in his hands, a bucket of water at his feet.
Dominic thought of Miss Jenner’s reaction and grinned. “Bickle, I believe.”
Naked, Bickle paused from vigorously drying his hair and turned, displaying a broad chest covered in a matt of black hair. He was quick to perceive Dominic as a gentleman, and snatched up his breeches, pulling them on. “I won’t be but a moment, sir.”
Dominic introduced himself. It was possible Bickle knew who he was, for he calmly nodded.
“Take your time. I don’t wish to interrupt your ablutions.”
As Bickle slipped his feet into his boots, Dominic explained his situation.
While the wheelwright readied the trap, he wondered who Miss Jenner was. He would expect a farmer’s daughter to have an earthier attitude to nudity.
The trap ready, Dominic joined Bickle on the seat.
As Bickle drove the carthorse along the road, Dominic wondered whether he would see Miss Jenner again. Bound to—it was a small place. Although she’d hardly been welcoming, once she got to know what a genial fellow he was, she might change her mind. If by some unseen circumstance he was stuck here for weeks while he worked out what to do with this property left in his unwilling hands, any feminine company—and most particularly someone as attractive as Miss Jenner—would certainly while away the hours.
*
Everyone in thevillage would know him on sight, dressed in his superbly tailored Bond Street clothes. Never in her memory had such a well-dressed, highborn gentleman visited the village. The former earl didn’t count. On the rare occasions he ventured out, he dressed like a pauper.
Olivia picked up a long stick and used it as a switch to batter away the leafy fronds encroaching on the path. The heat had only now left her cheeks. She had wanted to meet him, but not in that fashion. The drawing in the local newspaper hadn’t quite captured him. They’d made him appear sober and steely-eyed, and while his features were rugged and his jaw hard, when he smiled, he looked more like the rake they’d heard about. His arrogant, green gaze flickered over her, from her head to her feet, making her quiver. Yes, definitely a rake.
Entirely too attractive with smile lines radiating from his compelling eyes, a lean muscled body, and skin of an olive tone. His wavy, dark brown hair invited a woman’s touch. That last bit made her frown. Was she to act like a silly girl? But when she recalled his amused smile at her recognizing him, and his even white teeth, her heart gave a strange flutter.
Olivia continued along the road, increasingly annoyed at her foolishness. She needed to keep a cool head about Lord Redcliffe and not allow the embarrassment of their first meeting to spoil her plans. This was her chance to right a wrong, and she was determined to seize it with both hands.
She often walked the few miles to Redcliffe Hall along the road bounded by the estate’s high stone wall, to see if anything had changed since the old man died. From her limited vision through the tall, padlocked gates, nothing had. The ancient gatehouse deserted, the avenue of gnarled trees unchecked by any gardener still formed a dark tunnel over the driveway, the grounds overgrown, and the lawns past thigh-high. What must once have been a magnificent Elizabethan mansion now sad and neglected, with broken panes in the cobwebbed, mullioned windows.
Haunted, many believed, by the old earl guarding his money, which rumor claimed he’d hidden somewhere in the house. Olivia didn’t know if that was true, but he certainly didn’t spend any of it paying his bills. If he still lived, her poor father could attest to that.
Olivia entered through the side gate of Lady Lowry’s establishment and followed the path to the servants’ entrance. Her mistress had sent her to Bickle to arrange for him to fix the broken axle on her cabriolet. Before Lady Lowry questioned her, she must find an excuse for why she hadn’t seen him. Although she certainly had, much more than she ever wished to see. As it was, she loathed having to speak to him because he leered at her and made improper suggestions. Fortunately, Bickle had a towel over his head, and she made her escape without him seeing her. Then in her haste to get away from the man, she’d run into Lord Redcliffe. Literally. Smack bang against his hard chest.Heavens.He’d caught hold of her. Held for a moment while she breathed in his clean male smell.
He’d be very different to Bickle when stripped. She batted that thought away. She’d been tongue-tied with embarrassment, and he must think her an idiot. But then her absolute distrust of all Redcliffes took hold, and she’d had to take herself in hand not to reveal it.
Olivia entered through the servants’ door of the manor house, a solid two-story brick edifice built in the last century, where Lady Lowry employed her as housekeeper. Her mistress, the widow of Sir Hubert Lowry, could be difficult, at times quite horrid to her servants. As she entered the breakfast room, Olivia wondered what mood she would be in this morning. She hoped the young maid, Emily, hadn’t served her mistress cold porridge again.
In a dressing gown of pale pink, lavishly trimmed with ribbons and bows, Lady Lowry looked up from buttering her roll. “There you are. You’ve been gone a long time.” She gazed suspiciously at Olivia. “Did you tarry to flirt with the fellow?”
Olivia suppressed a shudder. “I had no chance to speak to Bickle. He was busy.”
“I’ll send the footman. He will not be turned away.”
“As I left,” Olivia said, aware this would draw her mistress’s attention from herself, “I saw Lord Redcliffe.”
