weeds." As the boy returned, supposedly to his task but with a painted wooden soldier clutched in each hand, she said, "We can manage, Mr. Deverell. Your concern is quite unnecessary."
He straightened up and gathered his reins in one hand. "Of course it is. You don't need a man about. You can steer yourself into rivers without our help. Well, you know where to find me, should you decide to lower your haughty pride and admit you need assistance. Even from a Deverell."
"I'll bear it in mind."
Although he turned his horse to leave with no further conversation, he felt the need to say one more thing. "By the by, you look like a month of wet Sundays."
"Why thank you." She gave a curtsey. Before he could ride off, she stepped up to the gate and added, "At least you're not still trying to flatter me with silly compliments."
"I never tried to flatter you. I spoke the truth. Perhaps you're not familiar with it."
Her eyes darkened, her hands came to a fluttering rest on the gate. "Your meaning?"
"You deceived me about your purpose here."
"I most certainly did not!"
"You let me think you were my new housekeeper." He was still angry about that mistake. Whoever might be to blame. Coles, of course, couldn't answer for it, so she'd have to. He certainly wasn't about to blame himself for leaping to conclusions.
"I didn't know what the Reverend had planned for me here," she protested, "but I could see that working for you would be quite impossible. It wouldn't be proper."
"Why not?"
"You know very well, why not." She sneezed.
"On the contrary, I don't know anything."
"Well," she replied archly, "you are a man, and they do tend to feign ignorance when it's convenient."
He glared at her. "What I meant, madam, is that I don't know anything about Mrs. Kelly . Except that no one else does either. The one man she claims she knew here is now dead and buried so he can't speak up."
"Yet curiously you were willing to take me on without a single good reference. It didn't bother you then that you knew nothing about me."
"You pulled the fleece over my eyes, didn't you? Flashed your ankles at me deliberately and I couldn't think straight after that." Leaning down from his horse, he continued, "You could be an escaped convict for all I know. You might have chopped up your last employer, put him in a pie and run off with his fortune."
Her lips parted, but before she could reply to the accusation, another sneeze shot out of her.
He added smugly, "I'd take that washing in if I were you, I can smell the rain coming."
With a handkerchief clutched to her face, she mumbled, "You can smell rain?"
"I've lived here all my life, remember? I can read these skies like the back of my hand. Good luck with that leaking roof."
As she looked upward at the stringy trails of cloud, he resisted the near overwhelming desire to offer help again. She'd have to learn the hard way, which was, it seemed, the way she wanted it. He tipped his head, turned his horse and cantered away.
It did rain, about ten minutes after he got home. Well, he'd warned her. No doubt she wasn't thankful for it, but probably cursed his name as she dashed about her house, searching for pots and pans to catch the drips.
Although he'd decided not to extend any further offers of help to the truculent woman, he did send his shepherd over the next day with a bottle of his homemade wine, a strong brew that he believed cured most ills. If her cold got worse she would soon fall behind with the farm.He shouldn't care, of course. She'd made her bed and would have to lie in it, under that leaky roof. But he sent his wine anyway, fully expecting to see it returned with an angry note. It was not.
On the next market day he saw her with her son, buying hens for the farm. In her flowery blue coat she stood out, but if she saw folk whispering and pointing, she ignored it very well and kept her eyes and her attention on the task at hand. The tradesmen, of course, would cheat her. Certainly no one was
He straightened up and gathered his reins in one hand. "Of course it is. You don't need a man about. You can steer yourself into rivers without our help. Well, you know where to find me, should you decide to lower your haughty pride and admit you need assistance. Even from a Deverell."
"I'll bear it in mind."
Although he turned his horse to leave with no further conversation, he felt the need to say one more thing. "By the by, you look like a month of wet Sundays."
"Why thank you." She gave a curtsey. Before he could ride off, she stepped up to the gate and added, "At least you're not still trying to flatter me with silly compliments."
"I never tried to flatter you. I spoke the truth. Perhaps you're not familiar with it."
Her eyes darkened, her hands came to a fluttering rest on the gate. "Your meaning?"
"You deceived me about your purpose here."
"I most certainly did not!"
"You let me think you were my new housekeeper." He was still angry about that mistake. Whoever might be to blame. Coles, of course, couldn't answer for it, so she'd have to. He certainly wasn't about to blame himself for leaping to conclusions.
"I didn't know what the Reverend had planned for me here," she protested, "but I could see that working for you would be quite impossible. It wouldn't be proper."
"Why not?"
"You know very well, why not." She sneezed.
"On the contrary, I don't know anything."
"Well," she replied archly, "you are a man, and they do tend to feign ignorance when it's convenient."
He glared at her. "What I meant, madam, is that I don't know anything about Mrs. Kelly . Except that no one else does either. The one man she claims she knew here is now dead and buried so he can't speak up."
"Yet curiously you were willing to take me on without a single good reference. It didn't bother you then that you knew nothing about me."
"You pulled the fleece over my eyes, didn't you? Flashed your ankles at me deliberately and I couldn't think straight after that." Leaning down from his horse, he continued, "You could be an escaped convict for all I know. You might have chopped up your last employer, put him in a pie and run off with his fortune."
Her lips parted, but before she could reply to the accusation, another sneeze shot out of her.
He added smugly, "I'd take that washing in if I were you, I can smell the rain coming."
With a handkerchief clutched to her face, she mumbled, "You can smell rain?"
"I've lived here all my life, remember? I can read these skies like the back of my hand. Good luck with that leaking roof."
As she looked upward at the stringy trails of cloud, he resisted the near overwhelming desire to offer help again. She'd have to learn the hard way, which was, it seemed, the way she wanted it. He tipped his head, turned his horse and cantered away.
It did rain, about ten minutes after he got home. Well, he'd warned her. No doubt she wasn't thankful for it, but probably cursed his name as she dashed about her house, searching for pots and pans to catch the drips.
Although he'd decided not to extend any further offers of help to the truculent woman, he did send his shepherd over the next day with a bottle of his homemade wine, a strong brew that he believed cured most ills. If her cold got worse she would soon fall behind with the farm.He shouldn't care, of course. She'd made her bed and would have to lie in it, under that leaky roof. But he sent his wine anyway, fully expecting to see it returned with an angry note. It was not.
On the next market day he saw her with her son, buying hens for the farm. In her flowery blue coat she stood out, but if she saw folk whispering and pointing, she ignored it very well and kept her eyes and her attention on the task at hand. The tradesmen, of course, would cheat her. Certainly no one was
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