Page 71 of Foes, Friends and Lovers
Hiding smiles, Caitlin and Gregory left the pair and walked back to the curricle.
Gregory offered his hand, and she took it and allowed him to help her to the seat. As she settled her skirts, she realized that her senses no longer leapt at his touch. Instead, they almost purred.
Another happy development.
Gregory sat, flicked the reins, and steered the bays along the drive and onto the lane. After a moment, he voiced the thought their morning’s encounters had set humming in his brain. “Do you think Rory came with us today to see if he could find a way to contribute to the Bellamy Hall Fund? Some way other than by making musical instruments?”
“The possibility did cross my mind.” Caitlin glanced his way. “This morning, after breakfast, he asked me to explain exactly how the Fund works, so the way the estate operates has definitely been on his mind.”
Gregory caught her eye. “How would you feel if he asks to stay and join our, for want of a better term, miscellany?”
She smiled at the description, then sobered. After a moment, she said, “I owe Rory—and Hamish, Daniel, and Morgan—a debt of gratitude. They understood—they always have—and they helped and made it easy for me to leave Benbeoch. I’m not sure I could have managed without their assistance, certainly not in bringing Samuel and Mary with me.” She paused, then went on, “I always thought the reason my cousins understood my need to escape Patrick’s control over what our lives should be was because they felt the same and wished they could break free, too.”
Gregory slowed his horses to take the bridge over the river. “After the initial shock of seeing Rory, I wondered if you were all that surprised.”
“That he’d followed me south?” She thought, then replied, “No. I wasn’t so surprised that he’d come. As Patrick had been pushing Rory to come after me, him using the opportunity to check that I was safe and well was always on the cards. What I don’t think my uncle has correctly foreseen is that, now Rory’s left Benbeoch, there’s no certainty he’ll go back.”
Gregory glanced at her. “Having studied Rory over the past days, I can see no reason he wouldn’t fit in here, if he was so inclined.”
She beamed at him, then squeezed his arm. “Thank you.” She looked ahead. “If he wanted to stay, I would be glad of it.”
A widening of the verge ahead had Gregory slowing. He eased his horses onto the grassy patch. “I know you want to call at the weavers’ cottages, but we’ve made good time this morning.” He looked at her and smiled. “Can I tempt you to take a short stroll by the river, chatelaine-mine?”
She laughed and waved him on. He climbed down, helped her down, then tied the reins to a nearby fence post.
Across the lane, a stile gave onto a narrow path that wound through the meadow to follow the gray ribbon of the river. After helping her over the stile, he continued to hold her hand as they set out, ambling in the late-morning sunshine.
She looked ahead. “It’s March—buds are starting to bloom and trees to grow.” She pointed ahead. “The hazel catkins are already out, the alder trees aren’t far behind, and even the birches are coming along.”
He looked, then murmured, “It’s the season for new developments.” He caught her gaze. “Like us.”
She smiled and tipped her head against his shoulder. “A development—is that what our relationship is?”
He looked ahead and, after a moment, replied, “For me, finding you is the next step in…I suppose you might call it ‘my evolution.’”
The look she threw him invited explanation.
He smiled and, pacing on, confessed, “I came to Bellamy Hall expecting to find a situation I would shape into the usual country gentleman’s estate. While all who were acquainted with Minnie and Timms knew of their habit of taking in an esoteric collection of people, no one had any idea of what they had, in fact, created here, much less knew about the Bellamy Hall Fund. I expected to have to pay for a conventional estate, likely a run-down one needing to be revitalized, from the funds I inherited together with the Hall and, possibly, from my private funds as well. Instead”—he gestured—“I’ve discovered a thriving, essentially self-funding community.” He shook his head. “Indeed, with you filling the roles of chatelaine and steward, the Bellamy Hall estate didn’t need me at all.”
Abruptly, Caitlin swung across him, forcing him to halt. She looked him in the eye. “You aren’t even vaguely considering leaving, are you? Because I’m established here?”
Surprised, he saw the near horror in her eyes and hurried to say, “No. Not at all.” He squeezed her hand. “Leaving didn’t enter into my plans at any stage.” Puzzled, he asked, “Why did you leap to that conclusion?”
She grimaced wryly, shifted aside, and with him keeping pace, started strolling again.
He waited, and eventually, she offered, “Men often don’t appreciate a female who knows how to run an estate.”
He squeezed her hand more firmly. “That’s not me. I don’t want to leave”—he glanced sharply at her—“and I definitely don’t want you to leave, either.”
She nodded, and he looked ahead, recalling his suspicion of two nights before, namely that she hadn’t correctly divined what he’d been about to ask her in that revealing moment in the gallery. She hadn’t yet realized that, as far as he was concerned, he was committed to marrying her.
He swiftly debated, but he’d agreed not to speak until Rory was settled and a little time had passed. He was fairly certain two days didn’t qualify.
Reluctantly setting aside the notion of seizing the moment and proposing, instead, he continued, “I’m not particularly good at explaining things—especially not when it comes to what I feel—so bear with me. I was building up to saying that, once I understood the reality of what was here, at the Hall, I realized the role that I’d expected to fill simply didn’t exist. However, during these past weeks, going around by your side and learning about the estate as it is, I’ve seen that there is a role for me as—as I think of it—guardian of the Hall.”
Her gaze touched his face, scanning his features.
On hearing his own words, certainty suffused him, and he nodded. “Yes, ‘guardian’ is the right word. I see myself as a protector, a champion, someone to keep the wolves from outside the Hall’s borders at bay.”
