Free A Reason to Rebel by Wendy Soliman

Alex thought he caught a glimpse of mischievousness flash through her remarkable eyes and was almost sure she was teasing him.
    “I believe it a risk worth taking.”
    “Very well, but I think it only fair to warn you that I am shockingly out of practice. I have not played these several months.”
    “Because of your illness?”
    “Yes, because of that.” She shivered and pulled her shawl more closely about her.
    “Come, Miss Tilling, I am afraid you are cold.” He stood and assisted her to her feet. “And your timing is impeccable. I believe that is Mrs. Gibson’s gig I can hear making its way down the drive. I would recognize the sound of her ancient cob’s hooves anywhere.” He smiled. “It will be quite safe to return to the house now.”
    She accepted his hand and placed her arm on his sleeve. They made their way back to the house in silence but Alex was acutely aware of her presence. He was struck by the elegance of her posture, the economically graceful manner in which she moved and the carefully guarded expression he could not begin to interpret. The touch of her fingers on his sleeve was gossamer light at first but as they progressed, she leaned a little more of her weight upon him. He sensed she was tiring and, concerned that she was still so weak, he was ridiculously glad to offer her this small service.
    As they slowly traversed the lawn he wondered how she would react if he gave way to the capricious whim that was bubbling away inside him. Whatever would she say if he swept her into his arms and carried her back to the house?

Chapter Six
     
    Estelle went down to dinner that evening, in spite of Lady Crawley’s conviction that the exertion would set back her recovery. She wore a cream muslin gown, an old favourite. Her clothing was a little too grand for her supposed situation as a displaced governess but there was no help for that. All her gowns were of the finest quality since they dated back to the days before her union with Mr. Travis. Her father was parsimonious when it came to his domestic arrangements but dressed his daughters in the finest garments his money could procure. He exploited their physical attributes in an effort to establish himself as a man to be reckoned with, looked up to and respected.
    Estelle regretted that she had not paid much heed to Susanna’s management of her packing. She should have anticipated that Susanna, with her flair for the flamboyant, would not focus on the practicalities of her situation. Upon arrival at Crawley Hall she discovered that only the very finest, brightest coloured of her gowns had been placed in her portmanteau. They were no longer fashionable since no money had been spared for additions to her wardrobe once she had been married, but they were also far from unremarkable.
    Fortuitously their inappropriateness did not appear to register with Lady Crawley, who greeted her arrival in the small sitting room with warmth. She exclaimed over and over how delighted she was to see her looking so much better.
    “The benefits of fresh country air to the recuperating invalid cannot be over-emphasized,” she said, as though she had encouraged her to venture out of doors instead of being seized by dread at the very prospect.
    “Indeed, ma’am, I feel a vast deal better.”
    Lord Crawley stood as she entered the room and examined her lazily from beneath heavily lidded eyes. His scrutiny commenced at the hem of her gown and drifted slowly upwards, lingering here and there, until his gaze came to rest upon her face. From his exacting perusal she suspected the discrepancy in her attire did not escape his notice and that he wished her to be aware of the fact. But he did not put his thoughts into words.
    “I rejoice to see you looking recovered, Miss Tilling.” He spoke in a laconic drawl as his eyes continued to appraise her person.
    She suddenly felt very warm but bore his examination with every appearance of equanimity. Not so much as a flicker of an eyelid