Free Simply Magic by Mary Balogh Page B

of cobwebs, attached it to the dog, and took it for a brisk walk along some narrow country lanes until, on the way back to the cottage, he removed the leash so that it could dash about in all directions, beside itself with exuberant glee at discovering such wide open spaces and the freedom to explore them.
    The stable, which had been built to accommodate three horses and a small carriage, would only just take his two horses. The curricle had to remain outside. Peter set about tidying the area and creating more space. And then, because the new space looked as if it had not seen either a broom or a pail of water in some time, he gave it both before spreading some fresh, clean-smelling straw, which he had found piled up behind the building.
    By the time he entered the house by the kitchen door, he was feeling grubby and sweaty and really rather pleased with life. This was turning into the most pleasant afternoon he had spent since coming to Hareford House.
    He washed his hands and his arms up to the elbows in water the flustered housekeeper poured for him, rolled down his shirtsleeves, and shrugged back into his coat—not an easy task without the assistance of his valet—and stepped into the sitting room, where Miss Osbourne was reading aloud but quietly while Miss Honeydew sat in a chair nearby, her head resting against the cushioned back, her eyes closed, her cap askew, her mouth wide open, snoring softly.
    His eyes met Miss Osbourne’s.
    He stepped back out into the corridor, cleared his throat, scuffed his boots on the wood floor, called out a second, more effusive thank-you to the housekeeper for the water, and reappeared in the doorway.
    Miss Osbourne was closing the book and Miss Honeydew was sitting erect and wide awake. She was straightening her cap and beaming with happiness.
    â€œWhat a wonderful reading voice you have for sure, Miss Osbourne,” she said. “I could listen to you all day long. And how splendid to have
two
young persons come to tea. I do hope the afternoon has not been a tedious one for you, Lord Whitleaf, though I daresay it has. I cannot tell you how much your kindness and Miss Osbourne’s has meant to me. You must both be ready for your tea.”
    â€œIt has not been a tedious afternoon by any means, ma’am,” he said, seating himself. “I was thinking to myself only a few moments ago that I have enjoyed this afternoon more than any other since I came into Somerset.”
    â€œOh, what a rascal you are!” Miss Honeydew clapped her hands with glee and laughed heartily.
    Susanna Osbourne looked back at him reproachfully.
    â€œYou will surely fry for your sins,” she told him an hour later after they had waved good-bye to Miss Honeydew in the doorway of her cottage and were on their way back to Barclay Court. “The most enjoyable afternoon of your stay here indeed! I
heard
you hammering at the fence, and the housekeeper came and whispered to me that you were cleaning out the stable and wanted to know what she ought to do about it.”
    â€œI took the mutt for a run too,” he said with a chuckle. “I thought its yapping might well drive you insane.”
    â€œWhy did you
do
it all?” she asked, sounding rather cross.
    â€œBecause I cannot stand being idle?” he said. “But no, you would not believe that, would you? You believe me to be nothing
but
idle. Perhaps I wished to impress you.”
    â€œAnd you flattered Miss Honeydew without ceasing for almost an hour,” she said. “She was delighted even though she did not believe a word you said. She will doubtless live on the memory for days or weeks to come.”
    â€œIs there anything wrong with that?” he asked her. “She is lonely, is she not?”
    â€œThere is
nothing
wrong with it,” she said, still sounding cross. “You are kind. You are
very
kind.”
    Ah, she was cross because she had been proved at least partly wrong about him,