with his huge debts.’
‘Oh, I see,’ she replied vaguely and she wasn’t really interested in him or his horse, was she? ‘You could get stuck there and you would not want that, would you?’ she said as she fought those silly tears back and focused on the yellowish band of cloud now creeping across the sea and realised what it meant.
‘Why?’
‘Have you been away from England so long you have forgotten what yonder sky means?’
He followed her pointing finger as if he didn’t trust her to know snow clouds from a hole in her shoe. ‘Aye, you’re right,’ he finally had to admit. ‘There is a goodly fall of snow on its way.’
‘Best hurry back to Dorchester and be comfortable there for however long it lasts, then. I promise to be on my way as soon as the roads allow travel again,’ she urged, hoping she could escape while his back was turned and she wasn’t exactly lying, was she? She did plan to scoop Jenny up and run as fast as she could go in the opposite direction. She had not said where she would be on the road to—how could she when she had no idea herself?
‘I am not the soft aristocrat you seem to think me. A village inn will do me very well,’ he argued with a suspicious look that asked why she was so determined to get him away from her humble home.
She managed to shrug as if she didn’t care what he did. ‘Well, I am going home anyway. I have a great deal to do before it snows,’ she said with a warning glare as if to say Don’t even think about hauling me on to that great horse and making us ride double.
‘Chickens and things, I suppose,’ he said, Duke to peasant.
The old, impulsive Rosalind would have smacked his smug face for that taunt, but this one gave him a look of icy contempt and marched away from the bridle path he would have to follow as a stranger to the heath.
‘Don’t get bogged down, Your Grace,’ he shouted after her and she strode on even faster to stop herself turning around and sticking her tongue out like a street urchin.
* * *
What a fool—what a lunatic he was. Why not do as she said and avoid her until he had to see her again for whatever reason the lawyers dictated? He had this stupid, boyish impulse to break through her determined serenity because his body wanted her, so his tongue had said things he cursed it for even when he was saying them. Ash urged his horse along the track to Livesey someone told him was shorter than the toll road and with a fine view—nowhere near as fine as the one he found at the top of it. If only he had been prepared for the sight of Rosalind there he might not have sniped at her and given himself away as far less calm and cold about this divorce business than he thought he was until he saw her again. It was that silly boy talking; the one who wanted to jump off the grey and chase his wife down the snaky track he had not even seen until she bolted down it as if the devil was on her tail. A little bit of logic survived and wondered why was she so intent on getting back to the village so fast she was prepared to risk a sprained ankle as well as very muddy legs and torn skirts. He stared after her as she neatly twisted and turned to avoid hazards until she was lost to his sight. Then he shook his head to try to settle some sense back into it and sighed.
The boy he once was still wanted her mercilessly, but it was the man who said stupid things then stuck to them as if taking it back would be a sign of weakness. He didn’t really want to go to Livesey Village in the middle of nowhere and risk seeing her every time he walked down a road or looked out of the taproom windows. One look at the fine gold curls that had escaped the severe knot she had skewered it into and shining like a halo in the winter sun, those deep blue eyes and that glorious feminine mouth and he wanted her nearly as badly as he had on their wedding night. He should never have come here alone; better still he should have found another lawyer and sent him to bargain with the Duke of Cherwell’s unwanted wife. Instead he recalled her extraordinary beauty and decided not to trust even the most staid lawyer with the task, but he didn’t appear to be that trustworthy in the face of it either.
Despite his impatience with himself Ash managed to ride down to the village as if he was not in a hurry. Even running recklessly over rough ground and jumping streams and walls Rosalind could not beat him there by many minutes. He had been lucky to find this fine beast for sale at a livery stable to pay the bill his last owner could not afford and he had no intention of ruining the gelding’s legs by galloping on unfamiliar ground. Time for the Duke of Cherwell to pretend he was just a modestly well off gentleman with business in the area, except why on earth had he booked that room in the name of Meadows? Rosalind seemed to be pretending to be a widow and a snowstorm ought to stop her grabbing whatever treasures she had and bolting off into the blue to hide under another name in another obscure place for reasons best known to herself.
‘Joan, Joan—where on earth are you?’
‘Here, Miss Rosalind.’ Joan emerged from the little bakehouse-cum-scullery with the delicious smell wafting out behind her. ‘Heavens above, just look at the state of you,’ the maid gasped and took in Rosalind’s torn and muddied petticoats and wild-looking hair half-up and half-down after she had lost most of her hairpins on her reckless dash home.
‘He’s here; we have to leave before it snows and we are stranded in this village with him for goodness knows how long until it melts again.’
‘We can’t risk being snowbound out in the open.’
‘Yes, we can; we have to. We must leave this place now he has come here. He cannot be allowed to find out about Jenny; he will take her away from me.’
‘If he’s putting up at the Duck and Feathers it won’t take five minutes for someone to tell him about her. Since he’s sixpence short of a shilling it could take ten for him to work out the lamb is his, but that’s not long enough for us to get out of here before the snow starts.’
‘But once he knows he will take her away from me,’ Rosalind said numbly, wondering if every penny she had could buy Seth Paxton’s neat cob and a light cart. There was the gold watch; it was worth a fair bit and she had often told herself that was why she kept it—to barter when she was desperate and heaven knew she was desperate now.
‘It’s too late if he is already in the village, but are you sure it’s him?’
‘Yes, I met him up on the heath. We spoke.’
‘Then you are well and truly caught and I should have told you about the fat ferret who stayed at the Duck and Feathers and asked a lot of questions a couple of months ago.’
‘You knew an investigator was looking for me?’
‘No, I would have told you if I was sure he was after you, but the ferret asked about half the village. Luckily Seth Paxton and his dad don’t like outcomers who ask too many questions and they didn’t say much.’
‘Yes, and I can imagine why,’ Rosalind said absently, wondering again what the lawyer’s motives were for concealing Jenny’s existence.
Never mind the lawyer now; she had more urgent problems. Jenny was quite small for her age so she might convince Ash she was not his. Why had she told him she had stayed faithful to her marriage vows when they were up on the heath? Idiot, she condemned herself, even as jealousy shot through her again at the thought of the mistresses he must have had since
