The Major's Guarded Heart. Isabelle Goddard
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you may be in need of spectacles!’
The other servants cackled joyfully at this sally, but Mellors’s face took on a truculent expression. ‘It were an easy mistake to make, Sir Justin. We’ve ’ad a spate of poachin’, you knows that. You told me yerself to be extra vigilant.’
‘Vigilant, yes, foolish, no. You had better wait for me in the office—I may be some time... And take that gun with you.’
The man slumped to the door, still ruffled. ‘She wuz trespassin’ for sure,’ he managed as a parting shot.
Justin Delacourt turned impatiently to face his audience who seemed caught in a trance and had barely moved since he had entered the room. ‘You may forget the coffee—but make sure that tea is ready in the library in ten minutes.’ His tone was even more severe and the servants, forgetting their earlier gaiety, speedily resumed their chores.
Striding across the room to the hanging line of brass bells, he sounded one vigorously. ‘I have this minute rung for my housekeeper, Miss Ingram. Mrs Reynolds will be with you shortly to escort you upstairs, so that you may—um—tidy yourself.’
He accorded Lizzie a brief bow and, without another word, walked through the door.
* * *
He strode to the library and waited. What the devil was the girl doing wandering in his grounds? Was Mellors right when he said she was trespassing? She must have been, otherwise why had she not called at the lodge and asked the porter for admittance. And how had she got in? The lodge gates were the only entrance to the estate, a fact bemoaned by servants and masters alike for years, but nothing had ever been done to improve the situation. And nothing would be done now, for there was precious little money for refurbishment.
But Miss Ingram. He had been stunned at the sight of her and not just because she had no place in his kitchen. Even in her sodden condition she had looked lovely, her soft brown eyes wide with indignation and her fiery curls already drying to a glossy mass. He hoped her dress was not completely ruined for he thought it likely that her wardrobe was not extensive. Until the gown could be laundered, Mrs Reynolds must find a replacement from one of the many wardrobes scattered across the house. It would probably not be to Miss Elizabeth’s taste but then she should not have come calling in a downpour, or, more accurately, she should not have come trespassing. He would have some questions for that young woman.
* * *
It was at least half an hour before he could pose them and when she slipped quietly into the library, all desire to question her fled. Her skin, still luminous from the rain, was blooming with health and her dazzling hair had been marshalled into some kind of order. But it was the dress that mesmerised Justin. A deep blue of the finest silk, years out of date, but showing the girl’s shapely figure to splendid effect. He almost gasped. His mother had worn that dress and she, too, had been beautiful and well formed. In body at least, he amended, for there was nothing beautiful about Lady Delacourt’s nature. But what had possessed the housekeeper to alight on that particular gown? He could only imagine that it was one of the few dresses that fitted his unexpected guest.
A lace shawl was draped across her bosom—just as well, Justin thought, else the temptation to caress her two beautifully rounded breasts would be too strong. His thoughts juddered to an abrupt halt. He was shocked, shocked at himself that he could think thus of a girl he hardly knew. ‘Come in, Miss Ingram.’ He had to clear his throat which had become very tight. ‘Come in,’ he repeated and gestured to the table. ‘Alfred has brought tea and there are fresh baked madeleines. I hope you will partake of some or Cook will be disappointed.’
She did partake and with gusto. Justin thought he had never seen a young lady so happy to eat and the sight was strangely pleasurable. She became aware that he was watching her. ‘I had hardly any breakfast,’ she explained naïvely, ‘and walking in the rain has made me ravenous.’
It was not exactly the response a society miss would have given, but then Miss Ingram was hardly a society miss. She was a hired companion who spoke confidently and looked good enough to eat herself. In short, she was a conundrum.
‘Walking was not all you were doing, I imagine,’ he said gently.
She flushed a little and looked defiant. ‘No, it wasn’t. I was being marched across your estate.’
‘But why were you in the Chelwood grounds?’
‘I became confused and lost my way. Then that clunch of a bailiff found me and took me for a poacher.’
‘You must excuse Mellors. He is new and very eager to be seen doing a good job.’
‘He hasn’t exactly covered himself in glory this morning,’ she noted, munching her way through her third madeleine.
‘But you,’ he said, determined to bring the conversation back to her. It was difficult when she was sitting so close and looking more lovely in his mother’s gown than ever Lady Delacourt had. He tried again to focus his mind. ‘The only way into Chelwood is through the lodge gates and you didn’t come that way. How did you get into the estate and why?’
The question was bluntly put for he had given up any pretence of subtlety. He couldn’t play word games, not while his body was reacting so treacherously.
‘I climbed the wall.’ Her defiance was even more marked. ‘And as for why, because it blocked my way.’
‘Do you normally scale walls if they’re in your way?’
‘I don’t normally meet them. Most people don’t feel the need to live behind locked gates.’
She had quite neatly turned the tables. ‘My bailiff considers that locking the gates acts as a deterrent to law breakers. But then he is unused to adventurous young ladies.’ As I am, he thought. The idea of any woman in his mother’s tight little circle lifting one elegant foot to the wall was laughable.
‘Adventurous? Do you think so?’
‘Few ladies of my acquaintance would hurl themselves over ten-feet walls.’
‘I didn’t exactly hurl myself and your friends must be sad company.’
‘Acquaintances,’ he corrected. For some reason he did not want her to think he was part of the ton society he despised. ‘But you are right, they lack courage! They would never make a soldier!’
‘I would—and that is what I most wish for.’ He was startled for he had meant the remark only as a pleasantry.
She saw him looking astonished and laughed. ‘Don’t worry! I know that a woman cannot join the army, but I would give anything to do so—to be in Spain at this moment, to feel the camaraderie, the excitement, the thrill of victory.’
‘Victory is not assured,’ he warned. ‘We have lost almost as many battles as we have won and it is only recently that the tide has turned.’
‘I know. At Badajoz and Vitoria.’
He was intrigued. ‘You have followed the war closely?’
‘My father is fighting in Spain,’ she said simply.
‘Your father?’ Her name had had a familiar ring, he remembered, when Mrs Croft first introduced her, but he had taken little notice. He had been far too concerned with her prettiness to think of anything else and far too disturbed by his response to it.
‘He is not by chance Colonel Ingram?’
‘He is.’
She was transformed, her face alight, her smile glowing. It was clear that her father was a hero to her—and why should he not be? Justin knew him by repute as a very brave man. ‘You have met him?’ The words were almost breathless and the plate of madeleines pushed to one side.
‘Once. I met him only once. It was after Vitoria. His regiment was taking over from mine and I was about to leave. I had just received news of my father’s death and knew that I must return to England immediately.’
‘And