Free More Than a Lover by Ann Lethbridge

cholera epidemic. They did the same in a household, apparently. A good officer and a good house steward knew which ones to ignore and which required following up. Such as the one that had been murmured in his ear a few minutes before he headed for Mrs Falkner’s domain. This rumour had its feet firmly planted on fact.
    He leaned against the door jamb to her office while the lady in question, dressed in cloak and hat, finished doing up the buttons of young Master Tommy’s coat.
    â€˜Going somewhere?’ he enquired mildly, though something of his anger must have coloured his tone, because she glanced up at him sharply. A needle-sharp look, though she belied it with a cool smile.
    He wasn’t fooled.
    â€˜Tommy and I needed some fresh air,’ she said calmly, wrapping a bright red scarf around the boy’s scrawny little neck.
    â€˜Unescorted?’ he said pointedly.
    A crease formed over her pretty nose, bringing her finely arched brows closer together. ‘We are not going far and Beth is busy in the kitchen. Cook is feeling her rheumatism today.’
    And the other girls were at their place of employment. Dressmaking or some such.
    â€˜We are going to feed the ducks,’ Tommy piped up, his face beaming with excitement. ‘Would you like to come with us, sir? It is splendid fun.’
    Blade had no trouble reading the desperate hope in the little boy’s eyes or the worry in his mother’s. She didn’t want him to go. In the cold light of day, she was no doubt regretting her weakness in giving in to his importuning. The rejection stung, but it wasn’t unexpected. He’d applied his skills of seduction into wheedling her to dance. He didn’t even know why he had done such a thing, except he had the feeling the woman had very little pleasure in her life. And that she was lonely. If there was one thing he’d learned to recognise, it was loneliness. And there was nothing like a little flirting to lift the spirits of a lonely widow. Hopefully, the woman had too much pride to cry off.
    â€˜I would love to come with you,’ he said to the boy. ‘It is a long time since I had reason to communicate with such fine worthy fellows as a paddle of ducks.’
    Tommy giggled.
    And thus he would keep his promise to himself that while things were so unsettled he would not let her go anywhere without an escort and unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, Ned was off on an errand.
    Her lips pinched a little. ‘If you have nothing better to do, then by all means come along.’
    Her way of telling him he was neglecting his duties. But she was part of his duties whether she liked it or not. And, if he was honest with himself, a very pleasurable part of his duties.
    â€˜There is nothing more important than filling the stomachs of Skepton’s waterfowl.’
    â€˜Nonsense,’ Mrs Falkner said, but still, he caught a flash of a smile that said she was amused rather than angry. Pleased, he crouched down to bring his face on a level with Tommy’s. ‘And what are these ducks to eat?’
    â€˜Stale bread.’ The boy held up a linen bag pulled tight at the neck. ‘It’s hard as a rock. I tried some.’ He made a face. ‘But Mama says the ducks will like it.’
    â€˜I am sure they will. I will get my hat and coat and meet you on the front step.’
    He found them there a few minutes later, Tommy hopping from foot to foot.
    Blade offered his arm to Mrs Falkner and his hand to the boy and they strolled towards the High Street. Every now and then the lad would skip a step or two, clearly delighted with the way the afternoon had transpired.
    The brisk April wind blowing down from the moors quickly reddened Mrs Falkner’s cheeks. The flush made her more tempting than usual. It was the kind of colour he’d like to see on her skin after a night of—
    He cut the thought off. He was not the sort of man a woman like her would ever