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 save you the trouble, Ben, I can easily carry them back with me,’ she countered, taking a firm grasp of both handles, thereby putting an end to the matter. ‘The kitchen maid will be along presently with a steaming bowl of nourishing broth to warm you up, which ought to keep you going until supper time, when I dare say, should you wish, you’ll be invited to eat with the servants in the house.’
The bags turned out to be much heavier than she might have supposed and she felt quite out of breath, not to mention unbecomingly flushed through the exertion. Consequently, she wasn’t best pleased to see none other than the Colonel himself emerging from the drawing room the instant she had deposited her burdens down on a chair in the hall.
His slight frown betrayed his disapproval even before he said, ‘Miss Harrington, I very much appreciate you offering sanctuary beneath this roof, but I certainly don’t expect you to dance attendance upon me. I’m not too proud to carry my own belongings. I’ve been doing so for years.’
She felt like a schoolgirl being scolded for some slight misdeed. With the possible exception of Agatha Whitton, and very occasionally Lady Beatrice herself, no one had ever attempted to criticise her actions for a good many years, not since her mother died. Perversely, she felt more amused than chastened by the mild rebuke, but even so, she had no intention of tamely accepting the reprimand like some cowed child, most especially not from a virtual stranger.
Although he towered above her, her head barely reaching his shoulder, she faced him squarely, resolute, but singularly lacking the least feeling of hostility towards him.
‘And I’m not too proud to offer assistance where I can, sir,’ she countered, her voice pleasantly level, with perhaps just the faintest trace of resolve. ‘I do not think you perfectly understand my position in this household.’
‘Perhaps not,’ he conceded. ‘But from what I’ve gleaned thus far, I’m fairly certain you’re not employed as a servant.’
Which instantly begged the question of just what he’d discovered about her during her short absence from the drawing room. Lady Beatrice wasn’t given to gossiping as a rule. After all, she was rarely in company often enough to enjoy the pastime, Ruth mused. Yet, something must have encouraged her to talk reasonably freely in front of her unexpected guest. Evidently, the Colonel possessed a manner that inspired confidence and induced even the most reticent of souls to reveal information they might ordinarily keep to themselves.
Ruth regarded him with dawning respect, realising all at once that much, much more lurked behind the air of affability and that polished easy manner of his; that behind the amused glint she’d already observed in those masculine eyes dwelt a character that was possibly both strong-willed and unerringly astute. Yet another salutary lesson, she mused, never to make snap judgements about people. And never to go by appearances alone!
Doing her level best to suppress a wry smile, though not altogether successfully if the Colonel’s faintly suspicious frown was anything to go by, Ruth sensibly turned away, while she attempted to school her features, and her eyes fell on the travelling bags once again.
‘Rest assured, Colonel, I have no intention of taking your belongings any further than this. And I shouldn’t attempt to do so either, if I were you,’ she advised. ‘I doubt very much your bedchamber is ready for you quite yet.’
‘In that case, Miss Harrington, would you be good enough to direct me to the stable block so that I might consult with my manservant?’
She did so with alacrity and Hugo was very soon making his way steadily across the cobbled yard to find his henchman engaging in a sportive exchange with a kitchen wench.
By clearing his throat noisily he made his approach known, which resulted in the, now, furiously blushing maidservant scurrying away and his own servant wearing the most wickedly self-satisfied grin. ‘You’re an incorrigible flirt, Finn! Kindly remember we’re not in Spain now.’
‘Wenches are the same the world over, sir. Thems that are willing, and thems that ain’t.’
‘Well, so long as you keep it to flirting, I’ll not object,’ Hugo told him bluntly, while staring out with some dissatisfaction at the amount of snow still surrounding the unappealing grey-stone house. ‘After all, we don’t know how long we’ll be obliged to kick our heels here. I shouldn’t wish to outstay our welcome by causing trouble among the staff.’
‘I shan’t do that, Colonel, ’ave no fear,’ Ben assured him, staring up at his master thoughtfully. ‘You don’t seem too ’appy to be putting up ’ere, sir. That scatty wench let fall that they don’t get too many callers to the ’ouse as a rule.’
‘I’d already come to that conclusion myself,’ Hugo admitted. ‘Seemingly, Lady Beatrice Lindley has turned into something of a recluse since her husband’s death. Through choice, I strongly suspect.’
‘Do you know ’er then, sir?’
‘I knew of her, yes. The seventh Duke of Chard was her brother-in-law. Married the duke’s young brother. Seem to recall he was something of a rum cove. I never did much socialising when I was in the capital. Not my scene at all, so it’s unlikely our paths ever did cross. But she
