‘I did. Forgive me, Miss Lound, but would you “explain” this house to me?’
‘Explain it, sir?’
‘Yes. We, the Kempseys,’ he extended a hand to include his brother, waiting patiently to be introduced to Lady Damerham, ‘come to it afresh, observing its age and development, but having no knowledge of why or exactly when. The history of a house influences not just its look, but its feel, a bit like your awareness of the change in the smell. My brother and I have explored quite a few odd corners, and even a dead end, and since we wish to belong, it would be nice to know the history. It is patently close to your heart.’ It occurred to Sir Rowland, in the manner of a revelation, that he would rather like96to be closer to the heart of Miss Lound, though that might be a less than comfortable place to be.
‘Am I so obvious, Sir Rowland?’ She blushed, just a little, and he expected her to lower her eyes, but her gaze held his. Women flirted, even without thinking. He had seen his sisters do so with his friends, as well as being upon the receiving end of encouraging looks. The total absence of flirtation was, in itself, peculiarly attractive. She was totally unlike any woman he had ever met, and it fascinated him.
‘Sir Rowland?’ She repeated his name, and it was his turn to look discomfited, for he had stared at her in silence.
‘Yes, ma’am, but that is no criticism. This is the home of your antecedents, perhaps from its first construction, I do not know, and it has meaning to you. There are things I would like to change, a little, and I will do so without asking your permission, but I would prefer to do so within the context of the house.’
It was a very reasonable request, in fact a very considerate one. It would also, she told herself, be a very good excuse to spend time with Sir Rowland, and yet her practical mind had her blurt out the wrong thing.
‘You might learn much of the history from Mrs Peplow, sir. Her family has served the Lounds for some generations.’ She did not mean it to sound like a put down.
‘I could, but I would have preferred—’
‘I did not say that I would not do so,’ she interjected97hastily, attempting to retrieve the situation, and then thinking that she sounded rather desperate. ‘I … I did not wish to sound as though I would instruct, like a governess.’
‘You do not strike me in any way like a governess, Miss Lound.’ He smiled at her.
‘You think me ignorant?’ She was doing it again, being defensive. It made things very difficult.
‘No. Quite the reverse. I do, however think you more Artemis than Athene, shall we say. Your element is the outdoors, not a library and tomes.’ It was a pretty compliment, and most women would have accepted it shyly. Mary Lound frowned, and considered it perfectly seriously.
‘Yes. I see that. I do not deny that I find being indoors for any length of time constricting. Mama will tell you I am perfectly happy to go out even in inclement weather, though I am not so peculiar as to wish to rush out into storms and gales.’
‘Getting wet does not worry you, ma’am?’ asked Mr Kempsey.
‘Not if one may return home within a short time and change one’s clothes. It is, after all, merely rain. I would not advocate getting soaked to the skin, nor remaining in wet garments.’
‘You are a pragmatist, Miss Lound, not a romantic,’ declared Sir Rowland.
‘I think that fair, sir. Yes.’
Lady Damerham looked at her daughter and Sir98Rowland and gave up. How a man was meant to find a woman attractive when she took things literally, and even frowned at him, she could not imagine. Poor Mary simply did not have the ability to set her cap at a man, and never in a hundred years would she succeed in getting an offer for her hand.
Sir Rowland presented his brother to her ladyship, but then turned back to Miss Lound. He spoke quietly.
‘So you will come? Come over and show me around the house, Miss Lound?’ Sir Rowland sought confirmation, for he guessed, correctly, that if she said that she would come, she would not renege.
‘I will come, Sir Rowland. You have but to name which day, for my social diary is entirely blank, I assure you, excepting an appointment with your fish when the sun is not too bright.’
‘Then shall we say tomorrow afternoon, fish permitting? At three of the clock?’
‘It is agreed.’
He noted that she did not ask her mother’s permission, nor request a chaperone as though entering his house put her at risk. He judged that she felt mature enough not to need one, and that one of the maids would be sufficient escort within the walls of the house, which she still felt was secretly ‘hers’.
‘Will you check with the fishes, Miss Lound, or shall my brother do so?’ Mr Kempsey enquired with a grin.
‘It depends, Mr Kempsey. Does Sir Rowland speak “troutish”?’99
‘I do not. Indeed, my acquaintance with things piscatorial is at best loose,’ – Sir Rowland laughed, and Tom Kempsey glanced at his brother, a little surprised – ‘and I have never before possessed a lake.’
‘Then you really ought to become far better acquainted with it, sir. I sometimes think there are trout in it that know my methods and my tricks. It would do them good to have another try their hand against them.’
‘You think them clever, ma’am?’ Sir Rowland was still laughing, softly.
