An Ideal Companion. ANNE ASHLEY
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disfiguring scar that ran from the corner of his right eye, almost reaching the base of his nose, his expression suggested strongly an agreeable disposition.
Above the strong, straight nose, a pair of searching blue eyes surveyed her with equal interest, while a well-shaped mouth was set in a pleasant smile that seemed in no way forced. ‘Forgive the intrusion, ma’am. But could my man and I beg the shelter of an outbuilding for a period for ourselves and our horses?’
His pleasantly deep and cultured voice revealed in an instant that he was an educated man. This and the fact that his clothes were of the finest quality suggested he was definitely not from the lower orders. Or engaged in trade, come to that! Ruth wasn’t at all sure this made her position in any way easier. Had he been a tradesperson she would have agreed to his request without hesitation.
She delayed for a moment only before inviting him to step into the hall, then turned to the young maid who had come scampering through from the kitchen, instructing her to direct the gentleman’s servant round to the stables.
‘Our groom will see to his needs, sir,’ she assured him, while relieving him of hat and cloak, and placing them down on a chair to be taken through to the kitchen to dry.
‘It’s uncommon kind of you to take pity on a stranger.’ He held out his hand. ‘Hugo Prentiss, ma’am.’
Although his large hand completely enveloped her slender fingers, there was nothing clumsy or remotely aggressive in his touch. If anything, his clasp was reassuringly protective. ‘Ruth Harrington, sir. And it is not I who you must thank. If you would care to follow me?’
She then led the way into the drawing room, experiencing a moment’s disquiet before Lady Beatrice’s initial frown of annoyance at the intrusion was replaced by one betraying deep thought the instant her uninvited guest, bowing with surprising grace for a tall gentleman, made his identity known to her.
‘Would you be one of the Hampshire Prentisses, by any chance, sir?’
All at once there was a disarming glint in masculine eyes. ‘Cannot deny it, ma’am. Devilish rogues to a man! My brothers and I scandalised the county with our exploits in our youth.’
No one could ever have credited Lady Beatrice with having a sense of humour, but this sally managed to elicit a surprising chuckle. ‘As to that, I couldn’t say,’ she responded while bestowing a rare smile of approval on her unexpected visitor. ‘But I do recall your sister causing something of a stir during her come out.’ The softer expression then vanished completely. ‘It was the year my husband passed away, so I remember it...particularly well.’
Although Lady Beatrice’s tone had lacked any suggestion of emotion, the gentleman might have been forgiven for supposing she looked upon that year with deep regret. Ruth knew rather better, of course. If her employer had any regrets at all it was that her husband had not obliged her by meeting his maker a good many years earlier! Not wishing the amiable Mr Prentiss to waste his breath in words of condolence that would not be appreciated, Ruth quickly intervened by inviting him to take a seat.
‘Would I be correct in thinking you were a colonel in the army, sir?’ Lady Beatrice remarked, after Ruth had furnished both her and her unexpected guest with a glass of wine.
‘You would indeed, ma’am,’ he answered, while nodding approval after sampling the burgundy. ‘Unfortunately, I found serving in peace time not at all to my taste, and am now retired.’
‘So what brings you to this part of the world?’ Lady Beatrice enquired, surprising Ruth somewhat by this show of apparent interest.
‘I’m having some major alterations made to a country house I’ve recently acquired in Dorsetshire and considered it the ideal time to catch up with some old friends of mine residing near Lynmouth. I left at first light to commence my return journey, carrying with me a detailed map of how to cross the moor, thereby saving myself several hours’ travelling time by not following the coastal route. Needless to say we began the journey in fine conditions, otherwise we wouldn’t have attempted such a course, I assure you.’
‘I’m afraid the weather can close in remarkably quickly on the moor. But you’re welcome to stay here, Colonel, for as long as you need.’ She then turned to Ruth, who had remained standing in the hope of receiving further instructions. ‘Would you be kind enough to see that a room is made ready for our guest. The blue bedchamber should serve very well. Don’t you agree?’
Honoured, indeed! Ruth mused, successfully suppressing a smile until she had stepped into the hall, where she discovered her confidante and trusted ally emerging from the kitchen area.
‘You look well pleased about something. Happy to have company for a change, I suppose,’ Agatha suggested.
‘Partly, yes,’ Ruth acknowledged. ‘Colonel Prentiss is a very personable gentleman from what I have seen thus far. Not only that, he seems to have succeeded in charming Lady Bea, would you believe? She certainly knows something of his family background and has proposed we make our unexpected visitor comfortable in the blue bedchamber.’
Agatha’s eyes widened. ‘Well, well, well! He must be a rare specimen to have won himself the best guest bedchamber!’
‘Or the mistress is just being immensely practical,’ Ruth countered, striving to bring a little common sense into the conversation. ‘Colonel Prentiss is a tall gentleman—over six feet, I should say. Lady Bea possibly thought the four-poster in the blue chamber would best accommodate him. See to it, would you, Aggie, whilst I attempt to negotiate the yard.’ She frowned slightly. ‘You see, there is something about this Colonel Prentiss that suggests to me he wouldn’t enjoy the comfort of the house if he supposed for a moment his manservant was suffering privation. So, I’d best go and check how things fare in the stable block.’
Ruth had the forethought to don a serviceable pair of outdoor boots and a thick woollen cloak before braving the elements. On opening the door she was pleasantly surprised to discover the weather had noticeably improved since the arrival of their unexpected guests. The men Lady Beatrice employed to tend the garden, take care of the livestock and generally keep the place well maintained had already begun to clear away some of the snow. There was now a negotiable path across to the stables, where she found the Colonel’s manservant hard at work attending to his master’s horses. After introducing herself, she asked if he had everything he required.
‘Benjamin Finn,’ he responded, touching his forelock politely. ‘Thank you for the kindness of asking, miss. I’ll do very nicely out ’ere. The Colonel and I ’ave sought shelter in far worse places than stables, I can tell ’ee.’
‘I’m sure you have,’ Ruth responded, instantly judging that the man standing before her enjoyed a somewhat closer association with his master than that of a mere servant. He was possibly held in the same regard as she held Agatha Whitton—a confidante and friend. ‘But I’m equally certain your master wouldn’t be content to enjoy the comforts of the house, if you hadn’t everything you require.’
Ben Finn’s weatherbeaten countenance all at once betrayed dawning wonder and a strong suggestion of respect. ‘Well, I’ll be dam—! Starting to get ’is measure already, are you, miss? Well, I can’t say as you’re wrong. Salt of the earth is Colonel Prentiss... One of the best. Could trust ’im with your life. There’s many that ’as, I can tell ’ee.’
Ruth began to feel distinctly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. It had never been her intention to discover personal details about the Colonel, most especially not by quizzing his servant. Worse still, she didn’t wish to appear to be showing undue interest in the unexpected guest. He was nothing to her, after all. And was never likely to be, come to that. Besides which, he wasn’t even handsome!
Feeling quite unequal to returning the servant’s gaze, she dropped her eyes to two serviceable cloak bags. ‘Would those contain your master’s personal belongings?’
‘Aye, miss. I’ll take ’em over to the ’ouse when I’ve finished tending to the ’orses.’
‘I’ll