is very precise.’
‘It is easy to remember, my father established the business in the same year as I was born.’
Adam handed her the wine again.
‘And your husband?’
‘Bernard Hall, his business partner. He joined my father twelve years ago, and married me three years later. We had been married barely eighteen months when he died.’
‘I am sorry,’ he said softly. ‘You must have been distraught.’
He could not interpret the look she gave him. She took another sip of wine and after a brief pause she continued her story.
‘I convinced Papa not to look for another partner but to let me help him. I found I had a talent for the business. When my father died three years ago he left everything to me.’ He watched her, trying to understand her pensive look, the slight downward turn to her mouth that gave her a rather kittenish look. At last she gave herself a mental shake and turned to him again. ‘Enough of me. Tell me about you, now.’ She shot him another of those sideways glances. ‘You said your name was Stratton. Are you the housekeeper’s son, from Castonbury Park?’
‘I am.’
‘Then I know you, Adam Stratton.’ Her dark eyes gleamed. ‘We played together before you went off to become a hero at Trafalgar.’
‘Surely not, I would remember.’
‘My father used to take me to the house, sometimes, when he was delivering cloth. I remember Mrs Stratton asked you to take me away and amuse me.’ He shook his head and she laughed. ‘Do not look so uncomfortable, I would not expect you to remember. You were, what … ten, eleven years old? You probably found a seven-year-old girl a blasted nuisance.’
‘I do remember now. You were a scrawny little thing, but useful for fetching and carrying. As I recall I treated you as my very own servant! Outrageous. Did you not mind?’
She shook her head. ‘Not at all, I enjoyed fetching and carrying for you. Besides, you looked after me. One occasion in particular I remember, when the Montague children came out and began to tease me. You drove them away.’
He grinned. ‘Well, it is all very well for me to mistreat you, but I was not going to let anyone else do so!’
A slight frown creased her brow, as if she was looking into the past. ‘Did they ever tease you, the Montagues? Because your mama …’
She broke off and he took pity on her confusion, saying quickly, ‘Because I had no father? No. Lord James was a year or two younger than I. I suppose I should be thankful that both he and Lord Giles saw me as a playmate rather than the housekeeper’s son, but perhaps that was because … well, never mind that. Suffice to say we thought well enough of one another.’
‘I am glad,’ she said warmly. ‘And I thought you were quite … wonderful.’ A faint colour tinged her cheek and for a moment she looked a little self-conscious. ‘You were very kind to me, you see. And now you have saved me once more.’
Her very own hero.
Amber drew up her knees and clasped her arms around them, as if hugging her memories. That explained the attraction she had felt for him as soon as he had appeared. It was not merely that he had come to her aid, but a half-acknowledged memory. He was the hero she had dreamed of since she was seven years old. Looking back, she supposed that the children at Castonbury Park had not intended to be cruel, but their teasing had frightened her, until Adam had arrived and sent them away. He had seemed to her the embodiment of those princes she read about in fairy tales, tall, strong and oh-so-handsome, protecting the maiden in distress. She had carried that early memory of him with her throughout her childhood and hoped, prayed, he would return one day.
He never had, of course. Once he went to naval college she never saw him again and when she was eighteen she put aside her childish dreams and gave in to her father’s demands that she should marry his partner, Bernard Hall. It was a business decision. It did not matter to her father that Bernard was twenty years older, that she found his bad breath and wandering hands repulsive, a marriage would secure the future of Ripley and Hall.
Bernard Hall had never awoken in her any spark. Unlike the man sitting beside her now. When she had looked into Adam’s eyes for the first time that day it was as if someone had applied bellows to a smouldering fire. She had burned, really burned, with a desire so strong she had almost thrown herself upon him.
Thankfully he had not noticed, merely staring at her, clearly shocked at her dishevelled appearance. She had brazened it out, of course, and she was thankful that he had stayed to help her. She was grateful, too, that he showed no sign of wanting to ravish her. Wasn’t she? Amber had to admit that his patent lack of interest piqued her. He was once again her hero, her knight in shining armour, but he clearly did not see her as his princess.
They sat in silence, consuming their simple meal. The cloth hanging around them was billowing gently in the breeze, washed in the golden glow of the fire.
‘What will you do with the damaged cloth?’ he asked.
‘I will rescue what I can. The linens and cottons can be laundered and should be almost as good as new. The rest I hope to sell off cheaply to the villagers. What is left I will take to the vicarage to give to the poor. I am sure Reverend Seagrove will find a good home for any cloth I cannot sell. I will have to order replacements for some things. I have to fulfil an order for Castonbury Park, you see. New curtains and bed-hangings, as well as livery for the servants. They will need the fabrics as soon as may be for the wedding—but you will know that, of course.’
‘Er, no.’
‘Surely your mother will have told you in her letters that Lord Giles is to be married?’
‘We have not been in touch.’ He could not meet her eyes and it was a struggle to explain. ‘When I was last here we argued. No.’ He had to be honest with her. ‘My mother never said a harsh word to me. It was all my doing.’
She touched his arm.
‘Will you tell me?’ she asked gently.
Adam hesitated. There was nothing but kindness in her manner, and suddenly he wanted to talk about it.
‘It was ten years ago. I came to tell her that I had quit the navy, that I was going to try my hand at business. She was shocked. Disappointed, I suppose, that I was giving up a promising career and uncertain that I would make a go of it.’ He sighed. ‘I was young, impatient. I had been given my own ship to command at twenty and that went to my head, I thought I could do anything. My mother was less certain.’
‘I am sure she only wanted what was best for you.’
‘I know you are right, but at the time I saw it as a slur, a lack of confidence in my abilities.’
He looked up at the sky, his jaw tightening. It had also brought back his own lack of confidence in his birth. Away from Castonbury Park he was Captain Adam Stratton, hero of Trafalgar, a clever and courageous sailor. Here, he would always be known as the duke’s bastard. Oh, no one said as much to his face, but he had heard the whispers, the gossip. His mother never spoke of her husband, there were no portraits of “Mr Stratton” in the housekeeper’s quarters at Castonbury Park. As a very young boy his questions had been met
