Page 45 of Almost a Bride
He could tell by Roselyn’s reddened cheeks how embarrassed she was to be caught with him, held so intimately against his body. He let himself enjoy the moment—her annoyance, the chance that he could be discovered, even though it could be dangerous for him.
“Hello, Charlotte,” Roselyn said, with warmth in her voice.
He thought for certain there would be an awkward moment as the two women decided what to say to each other. But the girl looked at him and grinned.
“Hello,” she said. “I’ve never seen you before.”
He found himself smiling.
Roselyn quickly said, “This is Mr. Sanderson, a soldier with the garrison in Shanklin. Mr. Sanderson, this is Mistress Charlotte Heywood, daughter of the Wakesfield bailiff.”
“Mr. Sanderson” gave a bow. “Good day, Mistress Charlotte.”
“Good day, sir,” she answered, looking down at the splint that bound his lower right leg. “I do hope your wound is not paining you greatly.”
“It is healing, thank you, due to the considerable help of Mistress Roselyn.” Let Roselyn make of that what she would, he thought, looking down at her with a polite smile tinged with intimacy.
Roselyn quickly said, “I have not done much, merely walked with Mr. Sanderson when I am able to.”
He could see Charlotte’s high spirits dim as she considered the two of them. Of course, she was John Heywood’s sister, and would naturally want her brother to have Roselyn’s attention.
“I enjoyed our baking lesson this morning,” Roselyn offered. “Did your mother like the pie?”
Charlotte’s voice was subdued. “Yes, but she thought that I shouldn’t have bothered you, that you might be too busy with the harvest.”
“It’s over now, so perhaps I can come up to Wakesfield. I’ve missed working with both of you.”
“I don’t mind coming to see you at the cottage,” Charlotte said, with more determination in her voice.
“Of course,” Roselyn murmured.
Charlotte glanced at Spencer with a bold challenge he found amusing. “Well, I must be off on an errand for my mother. Good day, Roselyn—Mr. Sanderson.”
She walked away from them toward the village with a determined stride. Roselyn said nothing as she watched Charlotte go.
“Why did you decide to lie about my identity?” Spencer finally asked.
She began to walk him back toward Wakesfield. “I couldn’t stop myself from thinking of that Spaniard, and wondering what would happen if more were sent after you. I must do all I can to protect Charlotte and her family.”
He sensed she was withholding more, but could hardly confront her about it—not without revealing the thingssheneeded protection from. “And how did you come up with a lie quite so quickly?”
“I’ve had that story prepared for a long time.”
“It will be easy enough for her to discover the truth,” he said.
“I know that. The sad thing is, I’m counting on her trust in me.”
“Then why didn’t you discourage the baking lessons? Surely that will only increase the risk of her seeing me again.”
“I know, but she looked so…disappointed.”
He knew it wasn’t the baking lessons Roselyn was talking about.
She sighed. “And now I have to dread what she’ll tell her father.”
~oOo~
That evening after supper, Spencer stood at the window and looked out across the estate. It was getting easier to stand on one leg, and his returning strength should have cheered him.
