Free Breaking the Rules by Sandra Heath Page A

home, he refused to answer.
    After the fright of her encounter with Taynton in the woods, Ursula was now much more prepared to accept what Daniel Pedlar had said. “There’s sommat bad down there, Miss Hursula. Sommat awful bad.” She therefore made no fuss when her father rode back to the manor along the Stroud road. Not a word had been said about her misconduct, for which she was thankful. In the cold light of day she couldn’t believe she’d been so utterly foolish, and she resolved not to repeat the exercise. But thinking about those strange minutes inevitably brought memories of the gentleman coming along the path toward her. Or rather, the gentleman who wasn’t coming along the path, but whom she’d seen anyway.
    Just to think of him filled her with flutters of pleasure and longing. Oh, it was all quite ridiculous, she thought, as her common sense knew only too well; but common sense wasn’t receiving much attention at the moment. She had the feeling he was a real person, not the product of her fertile imagination. He was constantly in her mind, and the intrusion was a little too pleasing for comfort. How novel and satisfactory if he turned out to be the Honorable Theodore Maximilian Greatorex, for then the impending match would be far from disagreeable. But such a wish belonged in the land of cuckoos, she thought dryly as she applied raspberry preserve to her toast.
    Dainty little white ribbons adorned the lace-edged day bonnet she resorted to when, as this morning, her hair was being difficult, and she wore an emerald-and-white checkered seersucker morning gown, high-waisted and long-sleeved, with a scooped neckline in which she had tucked a gauze scarf. A light cashmere shawl rested around her shoulders, and she looked very fresh considering her dawn excursion.
    Sunlight poured in through the windows, for the room faced due south over the first terrace, where the gardeners had today placed the potted bay trees that always overwintered under glass. The room itself was oak-paneled like the rest of the house, with heavily carved Elizabethan furniture that must have been made actually within the four walls, because it was all far too big to pass through either the doors or the windows. A fine display of silverware shone on the great sideboard, and a fire danced in the hearth, making the room so warm that Ursula resolved to stop the lighting of fires until the onset of autumn.
    Mr. Elcester’s mood was one of disgruntlement, for he had come to breakfast hoping to find the latest edition of The Times newspaper, a previous one having failed to be delivered when it should have been. Once again it was nowhere to be seen, and his annoyance was considerable. “Great heavens above, with all those stagecoaches calling at the Green Man, you’d think the delivery of a newspaper was not beyond their capabilities! It’s not satisfactory, not satisfactory at all. I cannot abide breakfasting without my newspaper!”
    “Shall I bring the last edition? I’m sure you haven’t read it all.”
    “I have read every inch,” he replied testily, drumming his fingers upon the table. Then he looked at her. “I have to ride to Stroud afterward,” he said suddenly.
    “Oh?”
    “A message arrived while we were at church. It seems the cellar walls of Fromewell Mill are giving cause for concern again.”
    “Again? I didn’t know anything was wrong with them.”
    “Yes, I’m afraid there has been a little subsidence, which in turn has weakened the foundations. If there’s rain and the river rises, the cellars will flood and a great deal of other damage might result. I’d best take a look. Who knows, maybe I’ll find a copy of The Times in the town.”
    “I’m sure yours will be delivered soon,” Ursula said patiently.
    “I like my news to be reasonably current, not ancient history,” he replied as he spooned some more kedgeree onto his plate. “Will you come to Stroud with me?” he asked then.
    “I thought I’d make