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‘Yes, my lord.’ Benson sketched a bow to Annis and turned away to marshal his workmen, and Adam reined in the chestnut stallion, which was tossing its head skittishly at the crowd. He raised his voice again.
‘Get back to work, all of you! Don’t you have better things to do than stand around here causing trouble?’
‘No, my lord!’ someone shouted. ‘This is as good as a play, and cheaper!’
There was a rumble of laughter. The tension was dissipating now and the crowd started to chatter and melt away. Annis felt Adam’s arms relax a little about her, but he showed no signs of letting her go. He looked down at the hapless carter and his mate.
‘As for you, Marchant, and you, Pierce, I should haul you before the magistrates for breach of the peace!’
The carter looked sheepish. ‘No harm done, m’lord. Apologies, my lady. We never meant to hurt you.’
‘Pay your toll and get going,’ Adam said abruptly. He turned his head and spoke in Annis’s ear.
‘And now, Lady Wycherley, what the deuce are you doing here?’
Annis turned in his arms and found that his face was very close to hers. There was a frown between his brows and his gaze was very stern. At such close quarters Annis could see his features in perfect detail. His eyes, so cool and grey, were fringed by thick black lashes. There was a crease down one cheek that deepened when he smiled. His skin had a golden sheen and there was a trace of stubble darkening his jaw and chin. It felt odd to be so close to him. Odd in an entirely pleasurable way. Annis felt warm and a little light-headed. Her body softened almost imperceptibly against Adam’s and, as his arms tightened about her again, she saw a flash of desire mirrored in his eyes, hot, sudden, shocking.
‘What are you doing here?’ Adam repeated, very softly.
Annis straightened up hastily.
‘I was paying my toll, my lord,’ she said acerbically. ‘As one does.’
Adam’s gaze went from her flushed face to the carriage, and back again. ‘You are here alone?’
Annis was starting to feel guilty as well as flustered. It made her more annoyed. ‘No. I am not alone. I have my coachman and groom.’
‘Lafoy’s coachman—and Lafoy’s coach.’
Annis sighed sharply. ‘As you see, my lord. Would you let me down, if you please? Whilst I appreciate your intervention, I should like to continue to Starbeck now.’
Adam shook his head. ‘Presently. I would like to speak with you first, if you please.’
Annis opened her eyes wide. ‘Here?’
‘Why not?’ Adam gave her a crooked smile. ‘I find I rather like…our current situation.’
Annis was not in a position to argue. Adam drew rein alongside the coach and leaned across to address the shaken coachman.
‘Drive up to the first crossroads. It leads to Eynhallow and you should have no trouble there. I shall bring Lady Wycherley along in a moment.’ He pulled the horse back and raised his whip in salutation as the coach lurched ahead of them, following the cart up the track. Then he tossed a coin to the tollkeeper and swung down from the saddle, holding his arms out to help Annis dismount.
Annis was both disconcerted and annoyed that she had no other choice but to accept his aid. It was a long way down to the ground and she had no desire to turn her ankle by trying to jump. She placed her hands lightly on Adam’s shoulders and slid down, feeling his arms close about her again to steady her. For a second his cheek brushed hers, his dark hair soft against her skin, then he stepped back and released her gently.
‘You are importunate, my lord,’ Annis snapped, thoroughly ruffled now, ‘both in the way you…you picked me up and the way you set me down!’
Adam raised a quizzical brow. He looped the horse’s reins over his arm. ‘I beg your pardon if I disturbed you, Lady Wycherley.’
Annis turned slightly away and smoothed her skirts down in self-conscious fashion. Adam had disturbed her—very much—but she did not want to admit it. After a moment she was able to regain her composure and fall into step with him on the sun-baked road. The echo of the carriage wheels was dying away up the track and the builders had returned to their work on the tollhouse, and there was no sound but for the birds in the trees and the faint bleating of the sheep in the fields.
‘You are not too shaken, I hope, Lady Wycherley,’ Adam asked, casting her a look of concern. ‘I doubt that they would have hurt you—you simply became caught in the crossfire.’
‘I know.’ Annis put her fingers to her cheek again. The bleeding had stopped, but it felt a little sore. ‘I suppose I was ungracious just now, my lord, and I should thank you for your prompt action. It was kind of you to come to my rescue.’
Adam smiled. Annis’s errant heart did a little flip at the sight of it. ‘It was the first time that I have swept a lady off her feet,’ he said slowly.
The air between them seemed to sizzle with the heat of the day—and something else.
‘I doubt that,’ Annis said, trying to remain practical, ‘and, as a chaperon, I must object to being swept.’
Adam raised one dark brow. ‘Why is that? Do chaperons never experience any adventure, my lady?’
‘Certainly not. It goes against the grain.’
Adam stepped closer. ‘I should imagine that the most useful experience for a chaperon would be to undergo all the things that might happen to one of your charges, in order to be able to advise them what to do in each circumstance.’
Annis choked on a laugh. ‘An outrageous suggestion, my lord!’
Adam shrugged. ‘Tell me if you change your mind, Lady Wycherley.’
Annis started to walk again, her fingers straying to her cheek where the cut was feeling hot and itchy in the sunshine. She saw Adam glance at her and then he took her arm.
‘Come into the shade,’ he said abruptly. ‘I want to have a look at that scratch on your cheek.’
Annis tried to pull away, feeling panic stir in her again. ‘It is nothing—’
‘Nevertheless, I would like to make sure.’
Adam drew her into the shade of a spreading oak tree, dropped the horse’s reins and left the stallion grazing docilely on the bank. He turned to Annis, taking her chin in one hand and tilting her face up to the light. His gaze was intent, his touch was gentle and impersonal, but Annis nevertheless felt as though it was branding her. She tried not to jump away. No one had touched her for a very long time. No one had ever touched her with such tenderness.
‘Hold still…’ Adam’s voice was barely above a murmur, his fingers as light as the stroke of a feather. ‘There is a graze on your cheek, but I do not think it will leave a scar.’
‘It is nothing.’ Annis said again. Her voice was shaky. ‘Please, my lord—’
Adam dropped his hand. His gaze fell to her lips. Suddenly the air between them, hot and heavy already, seemed even more heated.
Annis found that she was shaking. ‘I must rejoin my carriage, my lord,’ she whispered. ‘I am expected at Starbeck—’
There was a pause, then Adam stepped back. ‘Of course. It is only a little further up the road.’
There was a stiff silence between them as they scrambled back down on to the track. When Adam offered her his hand to help her down, Annis hesitated before taking it. Finally, when they were once more walking up towards the crossroads, Annis spoke slowly.
‘How is it, my lord, that it has become dangerous for me to travel alone in the countryside I have known all my life?’
Adam shrugged. ‘These are unhappy times, my lady. Mr Ingram is tightening his grip on a populace already worn down by hunger and poverty. You saw the hostility to the imposition of the tolls just now. It is an even choice as to who is hated more here—Ingram for his greed and meanness or your cousin Charles Lafoy, who was one of them and has now become Ingram’s creature.’
Annis’s lips tightened. She felt indignation on Charles’s behalf but she was afraid for him as well. She had had intimations of this in her letters from the Shepherd family at Starbeck, but this made it all much more real. And more serious.
‘Is it truly so bad? I had not realised. I have read in the papers about the riot over the enclosure of Shawes Common and the arson attacks on Mr Ingram’s property, but—’ she frowned ‘—I had not imagined the hostility to be so strong.’
Adam cast her a look. ‘Even in Harrogate it is sometimes easy to forget the feelings that run high out in the countryside. Perhaps your cousin does not yet realise how much he is disliked, or perhaps he feels that it is worth it for what Ingram must pay him.’
Annis flashed him a look of dislike. ‘I do not believe you should make such an assumption, my lord! You can have no idea why Charles chooses to work for Mr Ingram.’
Adam gave her a cynical look. ‘Do you know why he does? You are very loyal, Lady Wycherley, but perhaps that loyalty is misplaced. Unless I miss my guess, it will be put to the test all too soon.’
Annis stopped abruptly in the middle of the dusty road. ‘Pray explain exactly what you mean by that, my lord!’
‘With pleasure. I am speaking of Starbeck. It is common knowledge that Mr Ingram wants that property. Perhaps he has already made you an offer for it.’ His searching gaze studied her indignant face. ‘No? He will. He is waiting for Lafoy to do his dirty work for him.’
Annis raised her brows haughtily. ‘And?’
‘And Lafoy has already been preparing the ground. The reason that you have not had a permanent tenant at Starbeck for the past two years, Lady Wycherley, is that your cousin has deliberately avoided finding one. He wishes the house to fall down and for you to be unable to afford the repairs. That way Mr Ingram can step in—and make a lower offer.’ Adam laughed. ‘Did you not suspect any of this?’
‘No!’ Annis said hotly. She recovered herself. ‘Nor do I believe you, sir. You are stirring up trouble because of your dislike for Mr Ingram.’
Adam shrugged easily. ‘I cannot deny that I detest Ingram. That is beside the point, however. You will soon see that I am right.’
Annis glared at him from under the brim of her straw hat. ‘You are an odious man, Lord Ashwick.’
‘Why? Because I tell the truth?’ Adam quirked a brow.
‘No. You know what I mean. To set me against my cousin…’
Adam’s expression became grimmer. ‘I am sorry that you see it like that, Lady Wycherley.’ He gestured to the carriage, drawn up ahead of them at the crossroads. ‘Go to Starbeck! See for yourself.’
‘I will!’ Annis said. She was afraid that she sounded sulky, but could not quite help herself. She was very afraid that all the things Adam was saying might be true. He put his hand on her arm.
‘But before you go, Lady Wycherley, just how odious do you think me?’
‘I…oh…’ Annis’s gaze fell before his searching look. ‘I beg your pardon, Lord Ashwick. I meant that what you said was odious, and not that you yourself…’ She faltered. ‘That is, I thought it unkind in you to speak as you did.’
‘I see,’ Adam said. He gave her a crooked smile. ‘I suppose I should be grateful that you make a distinction.’ He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. ‘Good day, Lady Wycherley.’
Aware that her face was now as red as a setting sun, Annis scrambled up into her carriage with absolutely no decorum. She tried to ignore Adam’s hand outstretched to help her, but he outmanoeuvred her by the simple expedient of taking her elbow to help her up. He stood back and raised his hand in mocking farewell.
‘Drive on!’ Annis said crossly to the coachman, well aware that even as the coach turned the corner and Adam Ashwick was left behind, her palm still tingled with the imprint of his kiss.
Annis’s journey home that evening was uneventful, which was fortunate as she had plenty to think about. Whenever she tried to concentrate on the shocking dilapidation of Starbeck, she found herself thinking instead of Adam Ashwick, and not of the Adam from whom she had parted in a temper, but the one who had held her with such heart-shaking tenderness. She was out of all patience with herself by the time she reached Church Row and was glad to partake of a solitary supper. She had just finished the meal when there was a knock at the door.
‘Your cousin is here,’ Mrs Hardcastle announced, coming into the dining room and wiping her hands on her apron. The housekeeper had been with the Lafoy family for years and, when Annis had returned to England, had gladly accepted a post in her household. Her husband, who had died some ten years previously, had been the family’s coachman. These days Annis made do with a very small staff, of which Mrs Hardcastle was the undisputed matriarch. She was a tiny woman with bright dark eyes and a bosom encased in black that jutted like a shelf. It was unfortunate, Annis thought, that the bosom was what always drew the eye first. Plenty of gentlemen had been accused of ‘sauce’ for staring incredulously at Mrs Hardcastle’s figure, when in fact it was difficult to look elsewhere.
‘Powerful big bunch of flowers Mr Lafoy’s got with ’im,’ Mrs Hardcastle continued. She fixed Annis with a disapproving eye. ‘He ain’t come courting ’as he, Miss Annis?’
Annis put her book aside a little regretfully. She had been enjoying the peace. ‘I doubt it, Hardy. Charles does not appear interested in the Misses Crossley and he has never shown any urge to marry me!’
Mrs Hardcastle sniffed. ‘Well, I haven’t seen a bouquet so large since Mrs Arbuthnot’s funeral, Miss Annis. You bin reading books at the table again? T’ain’t good for you, you know. You need a bit of company.’
‘I like my own company,’ Annis said, getting to her feet. ‘Still, as Charles is here I suppose I had better see him. Please show him into the drawing-room, Hardy.’
When she went into the room, Charles was standing before the fireplace, a bunch of pink roses in one hand. He was fidgeting a little nervously with his neckcloth. When he saw Annis he looked simultaneously anxious and relieved, and came over to kiss her.
‘Annis? You are well? Benson rode over this afternoon and told me what had happened at the tollhouse.’
‘That was nice of him,’ Annis said composedly. ‘Are those flowers for me, Charles? How kind of you.’
‘They are from Mr Ingram,’ Charles said, holding the bouquet out to her a little awkwardly. ‘He was most distressed to hear what had happened.’
‘Please thank him from me.’ Annis laid the flowers on the sideboard. ‘It was an unpleasant experience, but I assure you I came to no harm.’
She sat down and, after a moment, Charles did the same, taking the chair opposite. He adopted such a concerned look that Annis was hard put to it not to laugh.
‘Truly, Charles, I am very well. Lord Ashwick arrived before too much harm was done. I fear your carriage has suffered a few dents, however.’
‘Never mind the carriage.’ Charles sat forward. ‘Ellis said that Ashwick had turned up. I suppose I should be grateful to him for rescuing you.’ He sounded both dubious and unwilling. ‘The trouble is that every time I hear of Ashwick’s involvement in one of these situations I am convinced he has stirred up the trouble in the first place!’
Annis raised her brows. ‘I think you may acquit him of that, Charles. He was nowhere near the tollhouse when the altercation broke out. It was a carter called Marchant and his companion who started to goad the workmen.’
‘Ellis told me,’ Charles said glumly. ‘Trouble is, Annis, there is more than one way of stirring rebellion. Ashwick’s brother is the rector of Eynhallow, you know, and preaches fierily against exploitation.’
Annis sighed. ‘If he is anything like Lord Ashwick, I imagine he is not subtle about it!’
Charles looked rather amused. ‘I say, Annis, what has Ashwick done to upset you?’
‘Oh, nothing,’ Annis said quickly. She did not want to let her cousin know that it was Adam who had told her about Starbeck, for that did smack of making trouble. ‘I find him somewhat brusque, that is all.’
Charles looked amused. ‘I thought that you liked him.’
Annis gave him a straight stare. She was not about to admit to a partiality for Lord Ashwick, no matter that there was a grain of truth in Charles’ words. ‘Did you, Charles?’
Charles crossed his legs. ‘Do not seek to gammon me, Annis! At the theatre the two of you looked more than cosy together.’
‘As far as I am aware, Lord Ashwick is cosy with Miss Mardyn rather than anyone else.’ Annis shifted a little. She knew that she was turning a little pink. ‘Now, Charles, do not seek to distract me. I must speak with you about Starbeck.’
There was a knock and Mrs Hardcastle came in with a tray and two glasses of wine. She slapped it down on the sideboard.
‘There you are, Mr Lafoy. Get that inside you. My nephew’s best elderflower cordial, that is. Got yourself a wife yet, have you?’
She thrust a glass at Charles, who looked revolted for a second but manfully covered his lapse. ‘Thank you, Hardy. No, I fear I have not yet found a lady willing to take me on.’
‘You should ask your cousin to find you an heiress,’ Mrs Hardcastle said, with a grim nod at Annis. ‘Powerful good at settling these girls, Miss Annis is. Why, you should see her with these two little minxes we have now! As good as betrothed already, they are! Though why anyone would want to marry the elder girl—’
‘Thank you, Hardy,’ Annis said, a little desperately.
‘Vulgar, vulgar, vulgar!’ Mrs Hardcastle finished triumphantly. ‘Excuse me, miss. I have to finish up in the scullery this evening. There’s a mouse’s nest in there. Quite a plague there was this last winter.’
‘How on earth you cope with her I’ll never know,’ Charles said, as the door closed behind the housekeeper. ‘I know she has been worked for the family for years, but surely it is time to pension her off?’
‘Hardy would go into a decline if she were not busy all the time,’ Annis said. ‘She is like me in that respect, Charles. She would never forgive me if I told her we wanted to lose her services.’
