Page 64 of Almost a Bride
“John,” Margaret said with a sharpness Roselyn was unaccustomed to hearing from her. “His Lordship is still injured and cannot be left alone. But thank you for your consideration.”
Roselyn almost gaped at the woman—did Margaret support her staying alone with a man?
“I’ve never been to London,” Thomas suddenly said. “Do tell us what it’s like to live there, my lord.”
Spencer looked about the table, at Roselyn’s strained face, at Francis’s discomfort, at John’s bitterness. What a smart lad Thomas was. He regaled them with tales of living in London—leaving out the bawdier side of life and how he used to enjoy it.
When the women had finished clearing away the meal, Spencer found himself out of things to say. Francis stepped into the silence.
“My lord, would you like me to send word to your family of your safe arrival at Wakesfield?”
Spencer tensed; the last thing he needed was to worry that someone would come after his family for information about him. “No,” he said sternly, meeting the old man’s impassive gaze. “I’ve already explained that no one is to know I’m here. I promise you will receive a complete explanation when I can give it.”
He glanced at Roselyn, hoping she thought he meant only an explanation about the two of them. She gazed at him steadily and he wanted to linger, to make his eyes tell her exactly what he thought when he looked at her.
But not in the midst of the Heywood family.
“My lord,” Margaret said, “please forgive our departure, but ’tis the first market day in Shanklin since before the fleets sailed past. Charlotte and Lady Roselyn and I should be going.”
“The merchants have brought new supplies from the mainland?” Roselyn asked, then smiled when the old woman nodded. “Let me fetch my baskets.”
Spencer sat back in his chair and nodded to the men as they each took their leave to begin the day. The women draped kerchiefs around their shoulders and adjusted their caps.
“My lord,” Roselyn said, and he knew those two words did not sit well on her tongue, “will you be able to return to the cottage by yourself?”
“It will do me good,” he assured her, standing up.
She nodded and turned away, and he found himself watching her hips sway as she walked out the door.
When they were all gone, he limped through the many parlors and halls on the first floor of Wakesfield Manor, not knowing what he was looking for. But it seemed…empty, just like his home in London.
~oOo~
Though threatening clouds began to build up in the western sky, market day in Shanklin remained a festive affair. Wooden stalls were set up throughout the common, and many farmers had brought their families into the village for the day. The tavern was doing brisk business, and Roselyn received many new orders for her baked goods. She would be spending much time in her bake house.
Would Spencer follow her there again?
She wanted to groan at the ridiculous wanderings of her mind; he had made it quite clear that he was leaving soon. She had failed so far in learning whether he was a spy or not, and was left with only a ridiculous fascination for him.
Stranger still was the fact that Margaret hadn’t even mentioned Spencer.
When Charlotte wandered off to look at hair ribbons, Roselyn said, “Margaret, I’m not sure I understand your good humor. I would have thought you would be quite…disappointed in me.”
Margaret slid her arm through Roselyn’s and smiled. “My dear child, you saved a man’s life. What is there not to be proud of?”
“But I’ve beenlyingto you.”
“Did you feel you were doing the right thing?”
Roselyn opened her mouth, though for a moment nothing came out. “Well…yes.”
“Then I will not judge you, my lady.”
Roselyn lowered her voice. “Are you condoning my living in the same cottage with Lord Thornton?”
A tiny frown gathered the wrinkles on Margaret’s forehead. “He is your betrothed, my dear, and I only want you to be happy.”
Roselyn was almost incapable of speech, which was lucky thing, since Charlotte was walking toward them, her face beaming.
