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“I beg to differ.”

“Then I shall take a firm stand against your earlier claim.”

He raised his eyebrow in surprise. “Which claim is that?”

“I believe that your admittance to owning some fear regarding our future together is cause for admiration rather than censure. I appreciate your honesty.” She took a deep breath. Having been sufficiently audacious to broach this subject, it behooved her to be brave enough to verbalize her own thoughts. “I too was fearful of what this marriage would bring, but in the spirit of full disclosure, my opinion of you now is higher rather than lower than it once was.”

Something in Sebastian’s eyes changed, and the heightened sense of awareness she’d experienced at the kissing gate crackled to life. She reached for the basket, needing something to cling to.

“Here we are, Your Grace.” Mrs. Shoup bustled back into the kitchen with a couple of apples in each hand. “From the apple tree in the manor garden, they are. I felt sure we had a few extra. Put them on the top beside the pork pies.”

Rosalind turned to face Mrs. Shoup and heard Sebastian’s breath release in a low hiss.

“Thank you. You have thought of everything.”

Mrs. Shoup clucked her tongue. “That sweet Mary Beckett is like a daughter to me. Has been ever since her mother died. I’m right grateful you’re doing this for her.”

“Are you hoping to go to the cottage immediately?” Sebastian asked.

“I thought it might be best, especially if Mrs. Beckett has been unable to prepare food since the tree came down.”

“I agree,” he said. “Have one of the footmen carry the basket out for you. I shall go ahead so that I can send word to the stables to make ready the carriage.”

“Thank you, Sebastian.”

He nodded. “I shall meet you in the entrance hall.”

Chapter 17

The rain David Beckett had predicted was falling hard. Water ran down the carriage windows, obscuring Rosalind’s view of the passing landscape. Fields became a sea of green separated by hedgerows and stone walls. Trees—some of them standing alone, others clustered in thick groves—appeared like tall, dark scarecrows, their foliage sparse and their branches wet.

“I am sorry that the horses had to come out in such weather,” Rosalind said. Sebastian had been unusually quiet since they’d entered the carriage, and reverting to talking about the weather seemed a good ploy.

“There is no need to apologize. I think the horses rather like the wet, and they certainly enjoy being outside the stables.”

“Perhaps it is the driver who deserves my commiseration, then.”

Sebastian offered her the ghost of a smile before turning to peer out of the window again. “Perhaps. Although I am more worried about the Becketts than I am about the driver. Perkins will return to a dry room when this errand is over. If the patch on the roof does not hold out the rain, the Becketts will be unable to escape it.”

“Is there nowhere else they can go?”

“I offered them temporary lodging at Finley Park last night, but David would have none of it.”

“Ah. So not even shepherds are immune to the downfall of pride?”

“It would appear that way.”

“Well, if Mr. Beckett shows any sign of preventing us from delivering the basket to his family, I shall expect you to hold his attention whilst I hand out apples and pork pies to his wife and children.”

Sebastian chuckled softly. “Why do I get the feeling that refusing your gift is not an option open to Mr. Beckett?”

Rosalind leaned back against the seat, a smile tugging at her lips. “Because after these last few days together, you are coming to know your wife.”

The carriage crested the hill, and suddenly, the cottage was before them. Rosalind moved closer to the window. A large tree, split down the center, stood beside the front gate. A pile of branches chopped into an assortment of sizes lay at its base. Twigs, leaves, and splinters of wood floated in the rain puddles along the path that led from the gate to the front door, and on the roof, an assortment of large rocks sat in a roughly circular shape atop mismatched strips of timber.

“It appears that the covering has stayed on, at least,” Sebastian said. His gaze was on the roof. “Whether or not it is watertight, however, remains to be seen.”

The carriage came to a halt opposite the gate, and a moment later, Perkins opened the door. Sebastian exited, then turned around and reached for the basket on the carriage floor with one hand before extending the other to Rosalind. She took it, and he tightened his fingers around hers as she dismounted.