upon him the attention of every woman in the vicinity, would think twice about any supposed lures cast his way by a plain, outspoken spinster—with a crowd of orphans in tow!
The only lasting result of her visit today was her landlord’s agreement to lease her the property. Once she was immersed in overseeing its renovation, adding that task to those of getting Thornfield running properly and finding the necessary teachers, today’s interlude would fade to a pleasant but vague memory.
Ignoring the eddies in her stomach that warned otherwise, Theo fixed that conclusion firmly in mind and turned Firefly down the drive to Thornfield’s stables.
Dom awoke the next morning with a sense of anticipation, the first he could recall since his injuries. Questioning the source of that unexpected sensation, he remembered meeting his unusual new neighbour the previous day, and smiled.
The drive to the stone barn had been energising. As he recalled, there was a tilbury in the carriage house and a high-stepper with a bit more fire to pull it. After his successful driving of the pony cart, he was reasonably sure he wouldn’t end up flat on his back in the mud again if he tried taking it out.
This morning, he decided as he rang for Henries, he would.
* * *
After consuming breakfast with a keener appetite than he’d possessed in some time, Dom walked down to the stables to collect horse, carriage and a stable boy to watch them, should he need to stop and inspect a field or cottage. It required but a moment’s thought to decide where he meant to drive first.
Miss Branwell had invited him to call at Thornfield Place, and so he would.
Setting the carriage in motion, he wondered at himself. After all his firm intentions to avoid contact with the neighbours, here he was, the day after meeting Miss Branwell, ready to encounter her again. If he felt like visiting, he ought to first return the Squire’s call.
He pictured his bluff neighbour and frowned. Stopping there didn’t appeal in the least.
Seeing Miss Branwell again did.
Perhaps it was because she didn’t expect anything of him but to be her landlord. Unlike every other resident in the county, she didn’t know his reputation, had no connections to hunting or its enthusiasts—she didn’t even recognise the name of the great Meynell! And, praise heaven, she wasn’t evaluating his worth on the Marriage Mart.
Indeed, Miss Branwell, self-confessedly ignorant of English customs, might not even be aware that, with his wealth and connections, he was still a prime matrimonial prospect.
No, all she had seen was a dishevelled one-armed soldier walking down a lane—and decided to offer him employment. He laughed out loud.
Direct, plain-spoken and completely focused on her objectives, she worked and thought like a soldier. Only she was much better to look at.
Picturing her immediately revived the strong attraction she’d inspired yesterday. His mind explored the idea of dalliance and liked it, his body adding its enthusiastic approval. However, Miss Branwell was still a miss, a gently born virgin. As strongly as he was attracted to her character and her person, he’d never debauched an innocent, and he wasn’t about to start.
With a disappointed sigh, he allowed himself to regret she wasn’t the widowed Mrs Branwell. They couldn’t, alas, be lovers. But perhaps they could be friends. A friend who knew him only as the man he was now.
There was freedom in that: no preconceived notions to meet, no pressure to perform up to the standard of what he’d once been.
Besides, he had to admit he was curious to see this assortment of orphans she’d collected. He tried, and failed, to imagine the problems one must overcome in order to follow the army with a troop of children in tow, then to transport them to England.
He shook his head and laughed again. What a remarkable girl!
Without doubt, calling on her would be much more interesting and enjoyable than perusing the London papers to determine the current value of hunters.
* * *
An hour later, at Thornfield Place, Theo was sipping a second cup of coffee while her aunt finished breakfast when Franklin informed them that Mr Ransleigh had called.
Surprise—and a delight far greater than it should have been—sent a thrill through her. After instructing the butler to inform the visitor that the ladies would receive him directly, she turned to her aunt.
‘Thank goodness I had Mrs Reeves straighten the parlour first thing this morning,’ she said, trying to pass off her enthusiasm as approval of prudent housekeeping. ‘It appears my new landlord is paying us a visit.’
Her aunt opened her lips to reply, then froze, her eyes opening wide. ‘Did Franklin say a Mr Ransleigh had called?’ she asked at last.
‘Yes. Mr Dominic Ransleigh. The building I want to turn into the children’s school sits on his land. I told you I planned to call on the landlord yesterday, remember?’
‘Of course I remember. But why didn’t you tell me your landlord was a Ransleigh?’
‘The owner of that much land would doubtless be a member of a prominent family. I didn’t think it mattered which one.’
‘Not matter? Good heavens, child, don’t be ridiculous! One must always be aware of the social position of the individuals with whom one associates—as you army folk want to know the rank of a military acquaintance.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ Theo conceded. ‘Enlighten me, then.’
‘Do you know anything of his background?’
‘Only that he was in the army for the duration of the war.’
‘So he was—he and his three cousins. The ‘Ransleigh Rogues,’ the boys have been called since their Eton days. They grew up inseparable, and when Alastair Ransleigh ran off to the army after being jilted by his fiancée—quite a scandal that was!—the other three joined up to watch over him. The eldest, Max—younger son of the Earl of Swynford, who practically runs the House of Lords!—was involved in a scandal of his own, something about an affair with a Frenchwoman at the Congress of Vienna and an assassination attempt on Wellington. The youngest, Will, the illegitimate son of the Earl’s brother, spent his first decade on the streets of St Giles before being recovered by the family.’
‘My, that is an assortment!’ Theo said with a laugh.
‘Your landlord, Dominic, was known as “Dandy Dom”, the handsomest man in the regiment, able to ride anything with four legs and drive anything with four wheels.’ I don’t know about the former, but I’ve seen him in Hyde Park, impeccably dressed, navigating a coach and four through the crowd as easily as if it were a pony cart on an empty country lane. He is—was—absolutely fearless on the hunting field, I’m told. His late father moved the family to Quorn country so long ago, I’d forgotten their primary estate was in Suffolk.’
The details about his family drifted into the background of her mind like dust
