A Kiss from the Heart Read online

  “Very well, a short ride then. But I shall have to see Miss Whitby first.”

  “Of course,” she murmured with more than a hint of victory.

  As they reached her bedroom door, the Earl bowed.

  “Goodnight.”

  “Yes, goodnight. I shall look forward to our ride!”

  Turning around sharply, he did not wait for her to close her door.

  He could not make a fast enough escape.

  ‘Blasted woman!’ he mumbled, as he entered his room, untying his cravat. ‘Blasted, blasted woman!’

  *

  Very reluctantly, the next morning he dressed in his riding habit and went down to breakfast.

  Alec, he thought, looked a little pale and Lady Waterton, who constantly chattered beside him, did not aid his torpor.

  ‘Does the woman not know when to keep silent?’ he fumed, as Alec politely answered question after question.

  His mother had already taken a carriage to Malvern to meet with the Lord Mayor to discuss plans for a statue of his father in the market square.

  Just then Stringer entered the dining room.

  “My Lord, Miss Whitby is now in the study waiting to see you.”

  His spirits lifted at the very mention of her name.

  Not only could he not wait to see her, but also her arrival offered a temporary rescue from his unwanted companion.

  He arose and excused himself, while Lady Waterton frowned after him, unhappy for his attention to be diverted away from her.

  Striding quickly towards the study, the Earl’s heart was beating faster by the second.

  As he entered, the scent of meadows greeted him.

  Miranda was in a simple cotton dress and paisley shawl that reminded him of a type made in India.

  “I am so pleased to see you!” he cried, as he shook her hand formally.

  Her hands were clad in thin cotton gloves, but the warmth of her fingers delighted him. He wished he could have taken her in his arms and embraced her.

  “I can see that you do need help!” she exclaimed, taking her hand away from his and waving it over the piles of paper on the desk.

  “Ah, but that will all be Miss Jenkins’s province! I have not had the opportunity to contact her. Would you be so good as to discover her whereabouts and write to her, enquiring after her availability? I don’t know what I shall do if she is otherwise engaged!”

  “At once! Papa has given me an address for her. I shall send a message round to her cottage, if you can spare a stable boy for the errand? She lives in the next village and I am certain that hearing she is once more required at Ledbury Hall will have her drop whatever she is doing!”

  The Earl laughed.

  How her face became animated and alive when she was enthusing about something. It was as if someone had lit a candle inside her.

  “And now, I am afraid I have some bad news as my Mama has burdened me with the mission of entertaining a guest. I shall have to leave shortly and take her for a ride.”

  “Don’t worry, I can see I have plenty to do here! I shall sift through these papers and see which Miss Jenkins can handle and which I can. I will also need to familiarise myself with your schedule of work. Do you have such a thing?”

  “It is in that grey notebook over there,” replied the Earl, surprised at her efficiency.

  Miranda picked up the notebook. Flicking through the pages she soon came to the list of works and nodded her head wisely.

  “I shall draw up a list of builders who can demolish the old barns and clear the land. Is there livestock that will require moving?”

  “I believe there is a flock of sheep.”

  “And the shepherd?”

  “He lives in a cottage on the other side of Flodder’s meadow – ”

  Their eyes met in recognition of that day sixteen years earlier when it had been the scene of his dramatic rescue.

  The Earl held her gaze for so long that she began to blush. Quickly she looked down and concentrated on the notebook.

  “Leave this with me. When will you return?”

  “I will return as soon as Lady Waterton allows!”

  Miranda permitted herself the luxury of one raised eyebrow but did not comment.

  “We shall take luncheon together later,” he said, stepping towards the door.

  Out in the hall, Lady Waterton was pacing up and down with an impatient look upon her face.

  The Earl did not allow her the opportunity to berate him, but simply picked up his riding crop from the console table and took his hat from Stringer.

  “This way,” he called curtly.

  Lady Waterton felt quite hurt that he had not passed comment on her new riding habit, which was, she thought, a rather fetching ensemble in rust-coloured valencia.

  He did not speak one word to her unless it was to issue instructions.

  Lady Waterton felt a little uneasy, but she was not one to be put off by a man playing hard to get.

  As they later pounded across the green fields in the summer sunshine, she marvelled at how well he handled his fine stallion. She could tell that Monty was a highly-strung beast and she would never have dared to mount him.

  After a short while, they came to a halt at a pleasant tumulus on top of a hill.

  The wind tugged at Lady Waterton’s reddish hair and a few wisps came free from her hairnet.

  “How much of the land I can see is yours?”

  “Most of it is to the West and as far as that ruined barn to the East,” he answered in a matter-of-fact tone.

  “Am I right in thinking that you also have other properties? Your mother mentioned a castle in Scotland and one in Ireland.”

  “Yes, but the Scottish castle belongs to Mama. It will pass to me when she dies.”

  An avaricious light glinted in Lady Waterton’s eyes as she took in the information.

  “The Templeton’s are a very powerful family,” she murmured. “I had not realised. I expect many Dowagers will have you in their sights as a worthy catch for their daughters!”

  “There have indeed been one or two, but I am not interested in marriage – or women! So they do not trouble me overly.”

  With that he dug his heels into Monty’s side and the stallion shot off over the barrow and down the hill.

  Lady Waterton had to struggle to keep up.

  They were almost returned to the Hall before she realised the route they were now taking. She sighed with disappointment as her horse slowed down to a trot – its hooves clattering over the cobbles of the stable yard.

  Before she could speak, the Earl had dismounted and was rushing away towards the house.

  “Please forgive me, but I am most anxious to return to my work,” he said, as he waved two grooms over to help Lady Waterton dismount. “I shall see you this evening at dinner, no doubt.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he strode off, leaving her speechless with fury.

  ‘How dare he run off and leave me at the mercy of two strange grooms!’ she fumed.

  “Lord Templeton!” cried Miranda, as the study door flew open and a rather dusty Earl plunged through it. “I did not expect you for hours yet!”

  “Oh, Lady Waterton was tired,” he told her, taking off his hat and flinging it down on a chair. “These City folk do not have our kind of stamina! And, oh,” he added. “I wish you to call me Robert. We are equals.”

  “Very well, Robert, I do have good news for you! Here is a note from Miss Jenkins. She will start tomorrow if that suits you.”

  “You are just an angel sent down from Heaven!” he answered with a lingering look that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Thank you so much!”

  “I have also drawn up a list of builders for you to interview,” continued Miranda. “And I have made an appointment for an architect to visit us tomorrow to discuss the new dairy.”

  “Words fail me, Miranda! You are a marvel – a paragon!”

  “It is only my first day,” she said, looking down at her
nails with a shy smile. “I may yet disappoint you.”

  “Never!” cried the Earl, throwing his whole heart into a solitary word.

  Their reverie was now abruptly interrupted by the Countess striding unannounced into the room. Behind her was Stringer with a tray of covered dishes.

  The Earl looked at his watch. It was too early for luncheon, surely?

  “Ah, Robert, you are back. The servants’ luncheon is ready and Stringer has brought Miss Whitby’s meal for her.”

  There was a tense silence while the full meaning behind her words sank in.

  He had been much looking forward to Miranda’s company uninterrupted for the rest of the day and he had endured more than enough of Lady Waterton’s prattle not to wish to have to eat luncheon with her.

  “Miranda and I will be working through luncheon today, Mama,” said the Earl sharply. “We shall be eating together at one o’clock.”

  The Countess drew herself up to her full height and her blue eyes were pools of ice.

  “Very well, Stringer, take the tray away. My son and Miss Whitby will have luncheon later.”

  She turned on her heel and spun out of the room.

  “I am sorry – ” began Miranda.

  “There is nothing to apologise for,” interrupted the Earl. “Mama was in the wrong.”

  “She does not care for me.”

  “You must ignore her. She does not like change. Now let me see this list of builders you have compiled.”

  The next hour flew by. Stringer brought in their luncheon at one o’clock and they paused while they ate.

  Before they both realised it, the clock in the hall was striking six.

  “My goodness! Papa will be wondering what has happened to me!” exclaimed Miranda. “Will you have my carriage brought round, please?”

  As the Earl escorted her outside, he could not resist taking her dainty hand. She had not remembered to put on her gloves and it felt wonderful in his.

  “Until tomorrow, then,” he said in a low voice. His eyes burned into hers as he lingered over her hand.

  “Yes,” she whispered a little hoarsely. “I will send your regards to Papa.”

  They stared into each other’s eyes and she slipped her hand from his.

  She quickly climbed into her carriage and his heart twisted in two. How he wished she could remain at the Hall and dine with them!

  Dinner that evening was as tedious as the previous evening.

  His mother was cool towards him while he tried his best to ignore Lady Waterton.

  Unable to face another evening of her chattering, as soon as pudding was over he rose from the table, claiming a headache.

  “You are leaving so soon?” pouted Lady Waterton, her face falling with displeasure.

  “I am best going straight to bed whenever one of my headaches threatens,” he explained, going over to kiss his mother goodnight. “And I have much to do tomorrow.”

  “Perhaps you could take Lady Waterton for a drive in the afternoon,” suggested his mother.

  “We shall see, Mama. I have so many appointments that it might not be possible. If I am not free, then perhaps Alec can accompany her.”

  The Earl was aware as he left the room that a chilly atmosphere had descended.

  But whilst he felt sorry for Alec, having to entertain the two women without him, he knew he could not himself endure it a moment longer.

  *

  Much later as the Hall settled and the servants slept soundly in their beds, a lone carriage was plunging along the road to Malvern at great speed.

  “Faster! Faster!” shouted the occupant, who was in a great hurry to reach his destination.

  He rapped impatiently on the roof of the carriage with his silver-topped cane. His face was contorted into a mask of fury with drops of spittle forming at the ends of his long handlebar moustache.

  ‘If she thinks she has escaped from me, she is so wrong!’ he muttered, as the horses picked up speed along the flat, straight road.

  ‘Very wrong!’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It was really such a beautiful morning the next day that Miranda could not bear to travel in her stuffy carriage.

  She told her father that she would walk to the Hall and set off early with a straw hat on her head to protect her from the sun’s rays.

  Although only eight o’clock, it was already warm and sultry. The sky was pure blue overhead without any clouds and Miranda sang to herself as she made her way across the fields.

  If she had known that, just a few miles away in a hotel in Malvern, slept the man who had been the cause of her decision to leave London so suddenly, she would not have been so carefree or happy.

  Lord Brookfield had arrived at the Spa Hotel in the early hours of the morning, having almost worn out the team of horses on his hired carriage.

  It had taken him some time to discover Miranda’s whereabouts, but, as soon as he had, he had not tarried in London an instant longer.

  It had cost him a great deal of money to persuade the carriage firm to hire him a team of horses at such short notice.

  He would have taken his own, had they not been on his Hertfordshire estate and he was in no mood to delay.

  As soon as he arrived at his hotel, before he even went to his suite of rooms, he made enquiries as to where he could find Sir George Whitby.

  “He is an old friend, but in my haste to leave, I left his address behind,” he told the concierge.

  “We would be very pleased to send him word of your arrival,” began the man cautiously.

  But a silver guinea had soon smoothed the way and the concierge wrote out Sir George’s address on a sheet of hotel notepaper along with instructions of how to get there.

  With a satisfied grunt, Lord Brookfield tucked the precious note into his wallet and proceeded to his room. As soon as his luggage had been unloaded, he went to bed and slept.

  ‘I am in no hurry,’ he murmured, as he laid his head on the white cotton pillowslip. ‘She does not know of my arrival here – she will not be rushing off!’

  *

  By the time that Miranda arrived at the Hall, she was thrilled to see that Miss Jenkins was just pulling up in her buggy.

  Although it had been a couple of years since she had last seen her, she waved as she handed the reins of her horse to the waiting stable boy.

  “Miss Miranda!” called Miss Jenkins. “I would not have recognised you! You are all grown up. Just look at you!”

  “It is wonderful that we shall be working together,” enthused Miranda, as they walked into the Hall. “There is so much to do and Lord Templeton has such splendid ideas for improving the estate.”

  “If he is anything like he was as a boy, then I shall have to be going after him with a broom the entire time!” said Miss Jenkins with a fond laugh. “Is he still as lazy?”

  “Oh, no. He is quite changed. I expect you know that he was in India for the last five years – quite the hero, by all accounts.”

  “Yes, I remember his mother reading me extracts from his letters. That is when he managed to send one. Although he never boasted about his achievements, one could tell he had been in many daring exploits.”

  “You will now find him a different man,” answered Miranda with an introspective smile. “There is much that has changed about him.”

  The study door was open and the Earl was already at his desk. His face lit up as he saw Miss Jenkins coming towards him.

  “I am so very glad that you came!” he greeted her, getting up to shake her hand. “You are not a moment too soon. As you can see, I am about to drown in a sea of paper!”

  Miss Jenkins laughed.

  “I am sure that much of it can be dispensed with in an instant. Just show me where I am to sit and give me a fresh ream of paper, some ink and a quill and I shall set to work.”

  The Earl grinned over her at Miranda and led her to a desk that had been brought down from the storage room. It was smaller than his father’s, but was just the rig
ht size for the petite Miss Jenkins.

  She soon set to work and before the architect had arrived to discuss the new dairy, the pile of paper in front of her had considerably diminished, while a neat stack of addressed correspondence stood on the side.

  At midday the Earl announced that he was taking the architect – a Mr. Woodleigh – on a tour of the site.

  “Will you be able to continue what you are doing without me for a while?” he enquired, ringing for Stringer to bring his hat. “I promised Alec that when the architect arrived I would take him with us.”

  “Of course,” replied Miranda. “But don’t forget that there are three builders turning up after luncheon!”

  The Earl smiled to himself.

  If only all his workers were like Miss Jenkins and Miranda!

  ‘Especially Miranda,’ he told himself.

  He left them to resume their duties.

  They continued with their work diligently and were not very pleased when the study door suddenly burst open just before luncheon to reveal Lady Waterton.

  ‘How very rude, she did not even bother to knock!’ thought Miranda looking up.

  She had heard enough about her from the Earl to realise that she was not exactly a welcome guest to him.

  “What industrious little bees!” remarked Lady Waterton. “A veritable hive of activity!”

  “Can I help you, Lady Waterton?” asked Miranda. “Were you looking for someone or are you lost?”

  Lady Waterton laughed in reply.

  “Oh, no, I am not lost. I just thought I would come and visit Robert’s little workers!”

  ‘How dare she speak to me like a mere servant!’ thought Miranda, but she calmed herself making her voice smooth and even when she spoke.

  “Well, as you can see we are indeed very busy.”

  She put her head down to look at her papers.

  “What is this?” squawked Lady Waterton suddenly.

  She plucked a letter from Miranda’s desk and scanned its contents.

  “Oh, I can hardly read it! Whose hand is this?”

  Miranda retrieved the letter and did not reply. The sooner this rude woman left them alone, the better!

  “I can see I am stopping you from your labours,” she sneered after a while. “I shall leave you in peace.”

  With a swish of skirts she left the room.