A Regency Courtesan's Pride. Ann Lethbridge
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glided silently out of the room and Merry turned back to her accounts. It was only to be expected that the mill wouldn’t be as profitable as it had been under her grandfather. The army no longer needed the number of uniforms they’d required during the wars and the clothiers had cut back on the quantities of cloth they bought from the mill. If things didn’t improve, soon, she’d have to cut back on the number of workers she employed. With the price of bread continually rising, even those fully employed were barely surviving.
Nothing but problems, no matter which way she turned.
She began adding the column of figures again. The door opened. With a sigh, she looked up.
Tonbridge. The aristocratic lines of his face stark in the cold light from the window. Gorgeous. She blinked.
‘Ready for our sleigh ride?’ he asked. ‘I have taken the liberty of requesting the horses put to.’
Oh, she had promised, hadn’t she? She glanced out of the window. No help from the weather. It looked like a perfect afternoon.
‘It would be good to get some fresh air,’ he said, seeing her hesitation. ‘I want to take a look at your phaeton. Make sure it isn’t a hazard to other travellers.’
‘Oh, no, really. You did enough yesterday.’ The image of him heaving the carriage out of the way returned. One would never guess he hid such strength beneath the dark burgundy superfine of his coat. Why did she have to think about that now? ‘Jed will see to it.’
His gaze drifted to the papers. He hesitated a fraction, then gave her a boyish grin. The kind of grin that no doubt made ladies of the ton swoon. And didn’t do such a bad job on her either. ‘All work and no play makes Jill a dull girl.’
Her heart gave a small thud of excitement. Her knees had the consistency of mashed turnip as the force of his charming smile hit her full on. Escaping from her account books sounded terribly tempting. Temptation seemed to personify this man.
‘All right. Why not?’ Decision made, she leaped to her feet. ‘But the sleigh hasn’t been used for years.’
A vague impression of the sharp bite of the wind on her cheeks and the feel of her parents’ large, warm bodies on either side of her teased at her mind.
And laughter. So much laughter.
‘It’s been well maintained, like everything else in your stables,’ he said.
‘Jed wouldn’t have it any other way. I know he is mortified by that axle.’
A shadow flickered over his face. ‘It can happen to the best-maintained equipages, as he well knows, and so I will assure him if you wish. Would Mrs Falkner care to accompany us? The sleigh easily holds four.’
‘I will ask her.’
She suddenly felt lighter, as if the problems looming over her these past few days had disappeared, or at least become less monstrous. ‘It will be fun.’
Cloaked in a fur-lined rug, with a hot brick at her feet and Tonbridge’s large form beside her, Merry felt toasty and warm. She curled her fingers in her swans-down muff and breathed in the crisp clear air.
The snow glinted and sparkled like fairy dust. ‘This was a good idea,’ she said, glancing at Tonbridge.
Once he’d manoeuvred the horses between the gates, he smiled at her. ‘It’s a long time since I drove a sleigh.’
She’d been surprised when Tonbridge insisted on driving them, and then decided it was just as well that his hands were kept busy with the reins, since the seats were not very wide and the thought of his hands on her body was keeping her far too warm. Just feeling him alongside her sent delicious tingles over her skin.
Not surprisingly, Caro had refused to accompany them on their jaunt and Merry had blithely said a groom would go with them. So much for decorum.
The day was too lovely for such thoughts. She wanted to absorb the warmth of the sun in through her skin. Feast on the brilliance of a cerulean sky and rolling hills of pristine white. The vastness shrank her problems to nothing. She leaned back with the muffled thud of the horses’ hooves and the jingle of the bridles filling her ears.
‘The Yorkshire countryside is magnificent,’ he murmured.
‘Most days I’m too busy to notice,’ she admitted. Too wrapped up in business matters.
He tipped his head back to look up into the sky, his eyes creasing at the corners as he squinted at the light. ‘An eagle,’ he said. ‘See it?’
She looked up and saw the bird, wings outstretched to catch the wind, wheeling high above them. ‘It will be lucky to find any prey with so much snow on the ground.’
‘Oh, he’ll find a vole or a mouse or two. Did you know one of my ancestors was responsible for the King’s mews? Back in Tudor times?’
‘Mine probably cleaned up the droppings.’
They laughed and the horses’ ears twitched.
The tension flowed from Merry’s shoulders. He’d made her feel comfortable. She didn’t feel the need to hide the smile curving her lips or to say something blunt to keep him at a distance. She could be herself. She let go a sigh. ‘I wish every day was like this.’
‘Me, too.’
He turned at the crossroads, entering the main road. No tracks marred the snow. No vehicles had passed this way since the previous evening. The wrecked phaeton soon came into view. Snow had drifted around it, but the shafts sticking straight up reminded her of a sunken wreck.
It looked sad and lonely. ‘I hope it can be repaired,’ Merry said.
He frowned. ‘You know, you really shouldn’t be driving around the countryside without a groom. Footpads are not unheard of in this part of the country. And there are rumours of Luddites again.’
‘I know everyone in the Riding.’
He shot her a look from beneath his brows that said he thought she was a stubborn foolish woman. She glared back.
He drew the horses to a halt and handed her the reins. ‘I’ll just be a moment.’
‘You surely aren’t thinking of pulling it out of the ditch?’
‘No. I want to look at the axle.’ His frown deepened.
‘Leave it to Jed.’
He didn’t reply, just climbed down and trudged through the snow. Stubborn man.
It was ridiculous. The snow had drifted well up the wheels. There was nothing to see. And what was the point of him getting soaked and cold? He was spoiling the afternoon.
She had a good mind to drive off and leave him there.
He headed back, stepping in the tracks he’d left. He went around to the back of the sleigh and grabbed a shovel.
‘Leave it be.’
He ignored her. Blast the man. Merry wound the reins around a strut and jumped down. She followed in his footsteps, the snow clumping on the skirts of her coat, making it hard to walk. By the time she reached his side, she was sodden. He had one of the wheels cleared of snow.
‘This is foolishness,’ she said.
‘Is it?’ He crouched down. ‘It is just as I thought.’ He looked up at her, his face solemn. ‘This was no accident.’
She put her hands on her hips. ‘Do you suppose I drove off the road on purpose?’
‘No. Look at that axle. It’s been sawn