.
Well, I suppose I did leave London for a taste of something different. This is very different.
Robert's trip into the rolling farms west of London had been so far uneventful. The people were kind, his money went a long way, and the air was better. That said, it was dull compared to London, and he had started to wonder if he had made a mistake. Then a blond-haired, violet-eyed girl had dispatched her would-be suitor with the verve of a gorgon and then dashed right into his path.
“Please, get me out of here,” she had said, and something in those remarkable eyes had locked in his heart and his mind. He couldn't have denied her if he wanted to, and he simply did not want to, not when she was so very beautiful. Underneath the fine cotton lawn of her pale dress, her hips rolled like the hills around him, and she clung to him with a desperate need that made him feel fiercely protective.
Without further direction, he rode toward the town of Westchester. She was, he decided, likely a town girl, ready to be home after dealing with the scoundrel she'd pushed into the water.
They were almost to the town gates when she stirred a little behind him.
“Oh! I'm so sorry, I hadn't realized. I live in quite the opposite direction. Back the way we came. I’m so sorry. If you let me off here, I'll be happy to find my own way back...”
“Nonsense. My fault for not asking. Where am I taking you?”
He could almost feel the smile on her face, and it made him smile in return.
“Well, if you're sure, back along the road, and south, please.”
“Perfect, that was where I was going anyway.”
They rode in silence for a while, Robert simply enjoying the feel of her arms around his waist, and something occurred to him.
“You need not feel too poorly about dumping that man in the water, you know.”
“I was actually doing just that, as a matter of course. He has been interested in my hand for some little while recently.”
“Men like that, ones who don't hear the word no, they don't deserve any regard at all.”
She stirred behind him, and he could feel her thinking over his words.
“Believe me when I say that was not what I was taught. But I like it. I wish it were true.”
“Well, if he had continued, I would have been down there making sure he didn't. As it was, you simply took care of things before I could.”
“Yes, and soon my name will likely be all over the county as a virago. As if my mother doesn't have enough to frustrate her.”
“Do you frustrate your mother very often?”
“As many times as there are minutes in the day. But I am telling tales out of school. What brings you to Westchester?”
“As a matter of fact, a lady does.”
“Oh?”
Robert grinned. “You needn't prick up your ears thinking that you are going to hear some interesting gossip. It is a lady of no account, though I suppose she is quite dear to me.”
“How, then, can a lady be of no account yet dear to you?”
“She's someone I have known for years now, and she is as much a regular occurrence in my life as the sunrise. Kind but a bit of a virago, I suppose.”
“And what makes her a virago?”
Robert wondered if there was something sharp in her soft voice, but he doubted it. The blonde girl who rode behind him reminded him of a violet cream candy, all round and sweet. “The typical things that make a woman a virago, I suppose. She will crow about her victory, and she will be smug sometimes. She is certainly not shy about her skills.”
“I see. Are you?”
“Shy about my skills? Certainly not. Why should I be?”
“Aren't you worried about being called a virago, then?”
Robert glanced back her, amused. “You sound offended. I was not speaking of you.”
“You may as well have been, sir. When a man speaks so, it is hard for a woman nearby not to assume he has spread his net to include her in his unkind definition.”
“Well, you are not a virago at all, all pushing of scoundrels into streams aside. You're quite lovely, all soft and pale and sweet.”
“Please, I believe I have had enough of treacly compliments for a while, but it does not soothe, sir, when you brand one woman a virago for things you do yourself and then praise another for her looks alone.”
“I do not know you well enough to praise your other accomplishments, I'm afraid.”
“You could ask me, if you liked, rather than simply dropping treacle on me out of an empty blue sky.”
Robert wanted to laugh at the offended little thing sitting on his horse. He knew after a moment of thought that she was likely wearing out her nerves after her encounter by the stream, and if what she needed was to claw at him for a little while, he didn't mind.
“All right, skilled and clever miss. What should I praise you for?”
“For my ability to read four languages, perhaps, or for the three cats I have raised from a bottle when their mother died in the storm. For my ability to play the pianoforte, or perhaps my skill at chess.”
Robert wondered if he had run into another one of Miss Welton's opponents. They were heading back toward where the innkeeper said that Baling House was, after all. A niece or a granddaughter, perhaps?
“So, I should congratulate you on your languages and not your skill at pushing people into streams?”
Robert was rewarded with a stifled giggle at that.
“No, please don't. I believe it would get confusing and rather embarrassing That does not sound like a reputation that I would want to nurture.”
“All right then. Why don't you tell me more about how well you play chess? Did a grandmother or perhaps a great-aunt teach you?”
“Chess? No, I learned from my father before he died.”
“That's a coincidence, I learned from my father as well. He was part of a far-flung network of gentlemen who played chess via post for years. He included me in the game of it, and even after he died, I never stopped.”
For some reason, the girl’s grip on his waist tightened and then loosened, enough so that he glanced back to make sure that she had not fallen off.
“Are you all right?”
“I am. It's only that my father did the same for me when I was only a girl. He said I had some small talent for it, and then introduced me into the game to some of his companions.”
As Baling House loomed in front of them, Robert turned slightly in the saddle to give the girl behind him a narrow look. She was young, he guessed, not older than twenty-three or twenty-four.
“Are you—”
“Robert Gordon?”
He blinked to hear his name on her lips, and there was one shivering moment where he had to think about how very much he liked it.
“Miss. L Welton?”
At the horrified look on her face, it was obviously her, and Robert reined his mare in, so he could turn to look at her more thoroughly.
“You're Miss L Welton?”
“Do you make it a habit of calling people you don't know viragos? I won those matches fair and square!”
“And you were always so smug when you did so!”
“As if you weren't smug when you won!”
“It's different, I'm—”
“I swear to high heaven that if you say it is different because you are a man, I shall scream. I have already had a very long day with men!”
Robert started to laugh. “You? You're the one with three broken cats and a quilt collection?”
“The three Nods are not broken! They were abandoned, and I nursed them along. It's not their fault they're not like regular cats! And what's wrong with my quilt collection? The first one was—”
“From your great-great-grandmother and includes a piece of cloth from a thrown-out shift of Queen Elizabeth, I know. We've discussed it.”
“I didn't know that I was discussing it with a... a...”
“I promise you I never made a pretense of what I was, Miss Welton.”
“I didn't know you were like this! I thought you were like Mr. Faraday or Sir Cavafy!”
“Old?”
“Yes!”
Her cry echoed off the trees, and Robert remembered that she had been having a difficult time of it before he pulled her up on his horse.
He reached down to cover her hand with his, squeezing gently.
“It's all right. No harm done. I'm sorry I called you a virago—”
“You should be.”
“There's no need to be upset, all right? I came out to meet you, you know. I thought we'd been playing chess so very long together that I would like to meet you before... well...”
“Before I died, Lord Dellfield?”
“Er. Yes. And here you are, the picture of health. Please, call me Robert. It seems strange for you to call me Lord after everything we have been through together.”
Her breath hitched, and for a moment, Robert was sure that something he said had pushed her past bearing. He was braced for tears, but he was not braced for laughter.
“Oh, my goodness, this is ridiculous. How in the world did this even happen?”
Robert chuckled as he urged his horse forward again. “Through assumptions, I suppose. You were kind to me the first time you roundly beat me, and I've always had a soft spot for you. I even brought you gifts.”
“Gifts befitting a woman of my age?”
“A nightcap, a prepared jar of mustard you might use as a plaster if you have lung issues, some squares of pretty fabric, yes.”
“Oh, my goodness.”
She was still laughing as they came up to Baling House, a stately manor nestled as naturally in the hills as a pendant rested on a woman's throat. Then, as they drew closer, Miss Welton stopped laughing at all, and Robert saw why.
On the front steps was a stern woman wrapped in a long shawl, and by her side stood a still slightly soggy young man with a look of fury on his face.