side by side, practiced for nearly an hour before he urged her to bed. "I am tiring you, Miss Lambeth."
"But I declare I have enjoyed this excessively." She meant every word. He was a patient teacher, a skilled musician. The time had passed all too quickly.
"Then we will play again tomorrow."
The thought comforted her.
He strolled with her to her room. When they entered the outdoor cloister, he asked, "Why did you not wear the shawl?"
"The Kashmir one that was your wife's?"
He nodded grimly.
"I do not wish to be compared to so lovely a woman, my lord."
"But she is long dead. I can scarcely even remember the sound of her voice. You are young and vibrant and lovely in your own right. It would please me if you would wear the shawl. Else I will be forced to send to India for a replacement for I do not like you to go uncovered. You seem not to have a disposition for our damp climate."
She was touched by his concern for her and greatly moved by his praise. She lay in bed thinking of him for a long while, remembering the soothing feel of his sinewy body so close to her as they sat in front of the pianoforte, his gentle voice in her ear. And when he had walked her to her chamber he had said she was lovely.
Chapter 7
Though Freddie had wanted to ride into Morton with him to greet Mrs. Taylor, Stacks had refused to take her, citing the strenuousness of the journey and her recent ill health. But his real reason for denying her was his fierce desire to protect Freddie's reputation. Riding alone with him in his coach would undoubtedly tarnish the poor girl. He was determined that his own repute not attach to her. For Freddie elicited in him a deep protectiveness.
He stood beside his own fine coach and watched the weary passengers disembark from the afternoon mail coach. He almost did not recognize Julia Smith--now Mrs. Taylor--for he pictured her as she had looked at twenty. These past ten years had been cruel to the girl who had already been dealt an unfortunate hand by nature. For the girl whose only girth had been in the sloping flesh beneath her chin had now grown quite plump.
As if to ignore the unwanted march of age, she clung to youthful fashions. She wore a traveling gown of pastel muslin--much too maidenly a hue for her and much too light for this dank climate. He fleetingly questioned his decision to bring her to Marshbanks Abbey. If she had no more sense than to dress as she did, she was hardly a fitting example for Freddie.
He put aside his doubts and rushed forward to greet her. "How good it is to see you once again, Mrs. Taylor."
A coy smile played at her lips as she fluttered her eyelashes and offered him her chunky hand. "How good it is to be here in Yorkshire once again."
He touched his lips to the proffered hand, then bowed. "It was very good of you to come." Turning away, he instructed the coachman to procure Mrs. Taylor's baggage, which was no small feat since the woman had brought a trunk as well as two bulging valises.
They then settled in his coach, facing one another, Mrs. Taylor's eyes flitting from the coachman in lime-colored livery, to the tiger, to the plush velvet seats.
"How very kind it is of you to meet me yourself, my lord." She patted her well coifed hair and beamed at him. "I think we will be good together, you and I. Now that I've lost my dear Mr. Taylor I know only too well the terrible loss you suffered when sweet Elizabeth passed on."
"It's been ten years, Mrs. Taylor. I assure you I have recovered."
"You must call me Julia."
"I think it only proper to address you as my ward will."
He took note that the fabric of her clothing was of an inferior quality. She must have found the offer to come to Marshbanks most welcome.
The plumpish matron settled back comfortably on the soft squabs. "Now you must tell me all about my little girl. It was a great sadness that Mr. Taylor and I had no children for I should love to have had a little girl of my own. I remember learning so