Free Snowbound With the Notorious Rake by Sarah Mallory

and straightened in the saddle.
    It was a dismissal. There was nothing for it but to step back.
    ‘Very well. I wish you Godspeed, madam.’
    ‘And I wish you every happiness.’
    A final smile, a final look from those slate-grey eyes, then she turned away, to ride out of his life for ever.
     
    Lawrence knew that if the pack ponies were moving it would not be long before his servants returned to Knightscote. The scullery boy arrived first, followed by the stable lads. The short winter day was drawing to a close when his butler and housekeeper finally trooped into the house. By supper time the lodge had returned to normal, lights burning in the passages and servants on hand to attend to their master’s slightest whim.
    ‘Lord bless us, but why are you sitting in the dark, Sir Lawrence?’ Mrs Brendon bustled in, carrying her master’s supper on a tray. ‘I do hope you haven’t been too uncomfortable while we’s been away, sir; I see you finished up all the ham, and someone’s been using my kitchen, too…’
    ‘Yes—how was your journey?’ he asked the question to deflect her attention.
    ‘Well, it could have been worse. Brendon and me got a ride on the carrier’s cart as far as the crossroads, and the track was pretty well trodden from there on.’ She put her tray down and began to go round the room, lighting candles from a taper. ‘Now, sir, that’s a gamepie I brought back with me from Exford, so I hope it will do until I can get cooking again in the morning!’
    ‘Excellent, thank you.’
    ‘But there’s hoof marks leading right up to the door, sir. Have you had visitors?’
    ‘Yes. A traveller on the way to Mersecombe arrived here Christmas Eve. The weather was too bad to go further.’
    ‘Ah, that explains the pots and pans that’s been moved in my kitchen.’ She nodded sagely. ‘I was fair certain it weren’t you that had taken to cooking!’
    ‘No. Tell me, Mrs Brendon. You come from Exford way, do you not? Do you recall a gentleman who used to live there, name of Westerhill?’
    ‘Harry Westerhill? Aye, I do. Gennleman, you say? Nothin’ but a lecher I’d call ’n. The good Lord carried ’im off a few years back, and a good thing, too. No woman was safe!’
    Lawrence pulled a chair to the table and sat down to his supper.
    ‘He had a wife, I believe?’ He hoped he sounded uninterested.
    ‘Ah, that he did. Poor little thing. Led her a merry dance he did, what with his women and his gambling. And they say he used to beat her, when he was in his cups.’
    Lawrence’s hand tightened around his knife. ‘Indeed?’
    ‘Oh, he could charm the birds from the trees, could Harry Westerhill, but when he had had a few to drink…’ She shook her head, tutting. ‘Well, good riddance, that’swhat I’d say. The poor lady’s better off without ’n. Better off without any man, if you ask me. Beggin yer pardon, sir!’
    ‘No, you are right, Mrs Brendon.’ Lawrence gazed down at the plate, his appetite quite gone. ‘She is better off without any man.’

Chapter Four
    ‘V ery well, children, that is all for today. Put your slates on the shelf, please, before you leave.’
    A scraping of benches and sudden explosion of chatter announced the end of the school day. Rose began to tidy her desk while the room gradually emptied around her.
    ‘Mama, Mama, Jem wants me to go to the farm with him, to see his pointer’s new litter!’
    Sam was tugging at her skirts, looking up at her with such a look of hope and trust in his eyes that her heart turned over. She put a hand on his unruly fair hair.
    ‘I am not sure you should. Mrs Wooler will have chores for Jem to do…’
    ‘Nothing very much tonight, Mrs Westerhill, and Sam can help me with those.’ Jem twisted his cap between his hands and said haltingly, ‘Me mam says she likes it when Sam comes to see us—she likes to hear us laughing…’
    Rose imagined Mrs Wooler, only a few months widowed, and she nodded.
    ‘Then of course Sam may go