Reunited with the Major. Anne Herries
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that he must hate her for she had hated herself for a long time.
The time for grieving was over, Samantha knew. Percy was dead. He had told her that she ought to marry again when he knew that death was near.
‘I can leave you enough to manage on, my dearest,’ he’d told her as he held her hand. ‘But you deserve so much more, Samantha. Marry a younger man this time—and one who can give you the finer things of life.’
She’d shaken her head and smiled at him, telling him that she wanted him to live and recover, but they’d both known he could not.
Percy was right, she ought to marry, but this time she wanted to be sure that she could feel more than just affection for the man she married.
Pushing away her troubled thoughts, Samantha took the pretty hat she’d purchased from its box and tried it on. It suited her English complexion. Cream straw with pink roses and ribbons, it became her well and would go with the white-muslin gown with the tiny pink motif she had recently had made, but not yet worn.
She had just taken off the hat and was tidying her hair when her maid knocked and then entered.
‘Begging your pardon, ma’am, but there is a gentleman downstairs wishing to see you.’
Samantha took the card and read it, and her heart jerked in surprise. How strange that Brock was here after all these months when they had not met. It was as if her memories had conjured him up. She trembled a little and almost refused to see him, but then she knew she could not do other than greet him as a friend. She could never thank him enough for all he’d done to help her when Percy was wounded. She must be friendly, but keep the joy she felt inside from showing in her face. Brock was a man and she knew that he had long forgotten her, because it was widely known he was engaged to be married to a beautiful young woman.
‘Yes, I see, Allie. Please tell him I shall be down in a few minutes. I shall receive him in the back parlour.’
* * *
‘Brock, how lovely to see you,’ Samantha cried as he was shown into the elegant parlour. He looked anxious and she went towards him impulsively, hands outstretched, caution lost as she felt his unease. ‘What brings you to me? What can I do for you?’
‘How are you, Mrs Scatterby? You look blooming, as lovely as ever.’
‘I am, as you see. My dearest Percy always told me I wasn’t to wear the willow if he died and he hated black so I have chosen grey and lilac, which suit me very well, and I live a perfectly satisfactory life. But I shall never forget those times when we were all together in Spain, before my darling...’ She shook her head and brushed away a tear. ‘None of that, it’s just seeing you again because Percy thought the world of you, and Phipps and Jack. You were his favourites of all his boys.’
‘And we worshipped him,’ Brock said. ‘Nothing will ever be like those times, Mrs Scatterby.’
‘I’m still Sam to you,’ she said gracefully, keeping her distance, but smiling. He must never guess how seeing him again after so long made her heart race and her body ache with the longing to be in his arms. He might have cared for her once, but it could only have been a young man’s infatuation. Had he still loved her, he would not be engaged to Miss Langton. ‘Now tell me, what can I do for you?’
Brock explained Rosemarie Ross’s predicament in as few words as possible. ‘I went to Phipps first, but he has other things on his mind just now. My godmother is otherwise engaged for months, but she suggested you, Sam. I am at my wits’ end to know what to do with young Miss Ross. Will you take pity on me?’
‘Oh, how perfectly romantic and wonderful,’ she said, and laughed in the enchanting way that had made her husband’s comrades fall head over heels in love with her when they were young men. ‘Yes, of course. You must bring her here at once. It is exactly what I need—an adventure to brighten up my days and give me a reason to go shopping. I fear I am terribly extravagant and it is my favourite pastime.’
‘I shall pay for anything Miss Ross needs and any extra expenses you may incur on her behalf.’ Brock laughed and shook his head as her brows went up. ‘No, there is no attachment, Sam. She has nothing until her affairs are settled and it cannot mean anything to me—I am too rich for my own good, so my godmother tells me.’
‘Then I shall not bother what I spend on her,’ Samantha said, smiling at him in approval. ‘You must bring her to me at once. I shall engage to give her some town bronze and rely on you to do the rest.’
‘She may have to stay with you for some months. If I cannot settle her affairs to her liking, perhaps until she forms an attachment and marries?’
‘I dare say if she is as charming as you say, I shall never wish to part with her,’ Samantha declared. ‘I have no relatives, no family of my own, and she will be no trouble to me, I assure you. Now, my dearest Brock, you must go and fetch her and I shall have her room prepared. Oh, what fun. I declare I’ve never been so pleased with a visitor before.’
‘You are an angel,’ Brock said, throwing her a kiss with his fingertips as he turned to leave. ‘Once Miss Ross is settled I can go down to visit Cynthia.’
‘Your fiancée?’ Sam’s look was suddenly serious, the smile leaving her eyes. ‘Are you sure she is at home, Brock? I am almost certain I saw her the other evening at a dance I attended. She was with Lord Armstrong and her mother.’
‘Cynthia Langton in town and with Lord Armstrong?’
‘Yes, I believe she has been staying with him and the countess for the past week or more,’ Samantha said. ‘You were not aware of it?’
‘No. I dare say her letter informing me is waiting for me at home. There is a pile of post, but I did not bother to go through it for I wanted to settle Miss Ross’s affairs first.’
‘I am sure their mothers are good friends. It will save you a journey to the country, after all,’ Samantha said with a smile. ‘Now, please, go and fetch Miss Ross. I dare say she is imagining that you have deserted her.’
‘Good grief, yes. I said I should be an hour and I’ve been at least three. Sam, I can never thank you enough,’ he said and left her with another kiss blown from his fingertips.
* * *
Samantha rang the bell for her housekeeper as soon as Brock had gone. She would have been a fool to dwell on the feelings seeing him had stirred in her breast. She’d been so nervous of seeing him, but his manner was that of a casual acquaintance, which was all they were now, she supposed. Oh, but it might have been so different had she not been such a fool.
Shaking her head over her own foolishness, Samantha concentrated on preparing for her visitor. She wanted to have her guest’s room ready for her when she arrived and gave instructions for the best spare chamber to be prepared. Flowers were to be picked from her small but very pretty garden at the rear of the house and arranged in one of the nicest vases; clean towels, linen, soaps and magazines must be placed in the room for Miss Ross’s use. Depending on what size she was, Samantha might be able to lend her one or two dresses until they could purchase some new ones from the seamstress she favoured.
It was always exciting to have visitors, and a young woman in trouble was surely someone she could make a new friend. She would so enjoy taking the girl about with her to discreet parties and private dances, though she was not sure whether Miss Ross was actually out or not. She thought, given her story, it was unlikely that she had been presented to their Majesties, but if it was required Sam might be able to prevail on Mrs Burrell or Lady South to undertake the business.
She would need to consult Brock and Miss Ross herself about her wishes in the matter, but nothing could be wrong in taking the young lady to small card parties and dinners or dances. Samantha had been feeling rather low for the past few months and having her young visitor would cheer her up. Not that she was past the age of wanting to enjoy life herself, for she was but five and twenty.
Her marriage to Percy Scatterby when she was nineteen had been a