An Improper Companion Read online

  “I—I have no habit,” I stammered.

  “It is among the things delivered today,” Leslie said inflexibly.

  “Leslie, don’t ride roughshod over the child!” Mary said angrily.

  Without answering her, Leslie said to me, “Go change to your habit.”

  I was afraid, but preferred to face Leslie now he must be faced. I could not gauge his mood, but did not believe he would threaten me with more than words. And I did not wish him to believe me pudding hearted. While in sight of the morning room, I ascended the stairs slowly. After that, however, I fairly fled to my chamber. Ellen was still unpacking. “My riding habit!” I ordered.

  “Just a moment,” she said, “I haven’t found it yet. Ah, here it is.”

  The outfit was a beautiful shade of blue and when I tried it on, I could see it was of the first stare. I might have envied the experience of choosing my own clothes, but I had to admit that between them, Leslie and Mademoiselle Suzette had excellent taste. No other riding costume could have suited me better. Ellen also was pleased. “You look that lovely, my lady,” she said.

  I sighed. If only there were some man to whom it might matter. Perhaps in time ... no. Leslie spoke of affairs, but to what point? I could not envision finding pleasure in the act I had experienced with Leslie. And that was the usual goal of affairs, was it not? Ellen broke into my reverie, “My lady, is someone waiting for you?”

  “Oh!” I gasped, “Sir Leslie!”

  I hurried to join him. He was standing by the morning-room door and Mary still stood inside. She was frowning at him. “You’ll remember what I said, Leslie?” she demanded. “I’ll not have you mistreating Heather. And you had better have a gentle mare for her.”

  “Yes, Mary,” Leslie replied crisply, “I have heard all you said. Come, Heather.”

  He turned and strode away. Leslie had long limbs and it was with difficulty that I kept pace with him. I was beginning to regret giving my assent to this riding lesson. In the stable yard, two horses stood waiting. I had not the least knowledge of horses, but the love and respect with which the groom stroked them told me these were prime blood. Even the smaller horse, however, seemed of overwhelming size. My heart began to pound and I swallowed. I could not mount this beast! But Leslie was waiting and I would not cry craven. I moved forward, then was being helped up. And then I was seated on the mare. I forced myself to sit calmly, not wanting to communicate my unease to the mare. I held the reins loosely and waited as Leslie mounted. The horses began to move slowly. As I realised my perch was not as precarious as it seemed, I began to gain confidence. And finally I could breathe normally again. I even found the courage to smile. Leslie had been watching me carefully, for now he smiled also and nodded. “Good girl. You’ve a sound seat for someone who has never ridden before.” He regarded me oddly for a moment. “You were very much afraid of mounting, weren’t you?”

  “Was it that obvious?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Not if one ignored the expression on your face or its abnormal pallor. You’ve more courage than I would expect of a young woman of your background. Most young ladies your age seem to prefer fainting to facing matters squarely. What I can not understand is why you are so afraid to face me.”

  I turned to eye him. “I would have thought the answer obvious. But very well, I am not afraid to face you. What is it you wish to discuss? Last evening’s words?”

  He looked weary. “To what point? You have already made your feelings clear to me through Mary. I understand that I might have overset you, but I wish you had not chosen to run to my sister to complain of Turkish treatment.”

  For a moment I was speechless, veering between anger and amazement. Anger prevailed. “What sort of a ninnyhammer do you take me for?” I demanded. “To complain to Mary would only add one more complication to my life. Oh, do not be deceived, sir, I count Mary an ally, but not one to be called upon for every trifle! If I wish to protest, I shall do so to you directly or I shall not do so at all!”

  I was breathing heavily then and my mare began to grow uneasy. Leslie reached out and laid a steadying hand on her neck. “It seems I misunderstood my sister,” he said calmly, “She is very concerned about you. One of the servants must have told her I have been ill-treating you.”

  Although this was none of my doing, I felt guilty. I wanted to protest that I had not gossiped indiscreetly with the servants, but could not be certain I had never spoken too freely. Then Leslie said, “I apologise for ordering you to have this riding lesson, but I could not feel you truly wished to spend the morning with my sister. Drastic measures were necessary.”

  I laughed. “In truth, you were quite correct!” Impulsively I said, “Oh, Leslie, she wants me to change all the rooms about. And I haven’t the faintest wish to do so! Mary talks about papers and fabrics and never seems to hear or believe me when I say that I prefer things as they are.”

  Leslie laughed deeply. “Heather, you will drive Mary to distraction! For years she has been eager to refurbish the castle for me. I daresay she cannot understand a woman who does not care for such things.”

  “Shall I let her then?” I asked.

  “Lord no!” he replied.

  I nodded, satisfied, then hesitantly said, “I also felt that perhaps it was not, well, quite my place to meddle.”

  Leslie halted his horse, blocking mine as he did so. “Heather, I know ours is not an ordinary marriage. But I do not ever wish you to feel that the privileges and rights of a wife are something you must bargain for. It is your place to make changes about the castle if you wish to do so. I shall not begrudge you the expense.”

  He stared at me and I answered honestly, “But I don’t! As for my position, you are very generous. I should not have been surprised if you had felt I was due less.”

  Leslie sighed. “I cannot chide you for how you feel about me. The reason is too obvious.” Then he added earnestly, “You understand, Heather, that if what happened could be undone, I would have it so.”

  I looked away, shuddering. “Please. I do not wish to discuss it. Of what use is your regret now? Though I can accept that you would not have acted as you did had you known ... this cannot change what I feel.”

  He turned his horse and we began to ride again. At first, Leslie did not speak. What answer could he have given to my words? And I? I was gaining confidence and beginning to enjoy the sensation of being on horseback. It was a beautiful sunny day, and I almost began to feel friendly toward Leslie. It is difficult to hate someone who shares one’s love of nature. “Tomorrow,” he said at last, “I shall take you to some of the cottages on my estate. It means pretending, I am afraid, that we are an ordinary couple. But such courtesy calls are customary and would please my people.”

  “Of course,” I said. Then added mischievously, “ ’Twill be a good excuse to escape Mary and her schemes. Truly, what shall I do about her, Leslie? Should she be offended if I spoke plainly?”

  “Probably,” he said, “but I suspect it will be necessary. Besides, she will no doubt lay the blame at my feet and cease being angry with you quickly enough.”

  I could not bear the bitterness in Leslie’s voice and was afraid to speak further of the matter. Instead, I said, “This mare is truly gentle.”

  “So you have ceased to fear her?” Leslie asked. I nodded and his voice became harsh, “I would you could find it as easy to grow at ease with people!”

  I halted my mare and said in a quiet voice, “If you choose to be so disagreeable I shall have to say ‘good day’ and leave you. No doubt the horse knows her way back to the castle.” He flushed, then laughed. “And I have chided you for prickliness! Very well, I shall endeavour to be more agreeable. Lord, what a strange couple we make, Heather! My mother would have been horrified by you. She felt a woman’s place was to defer absolutely to her husband.”

  “I presume you feel the same?” I asked.

  He smiled again. “If that were so, do you truly believe matters would be as they are?”r />
  “I suppose not,” I conceded.

  We continued to ride in a companionable silence. When we neared a stream, Leslie suggested we stop for a while. I agreed and we approached the water. He dismounted first and came to help me. I could scarcely keep from flinching as his hands circled my waist to lift me down and as my feet touched earth again I shuddered. But Leslie did not immediately release me. “So small to be so forceful,” he murmured.

  I pulled free and moved to stand by the water as he tethered our horses. From my reflection I knew my hair was slightly dishevelled, but I carried no comb to repair the damage. It was difficult to believe that the young woman who stared back at me was myself. I wondered again, as I often had this past week, if it were not perhaps a dream that I should soon wake from to find myself once more safely in Mrs. Gilwen’s school. Or was that too a dream? Another reflection joined mine and I realised Leslie stood beside me. “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “If any of this exists. You. The castle. This stream,” I said quietly.

  “And I wonder if you exist,” he said with a hint of laughter in his voice, “for I know the rest does. Including this rock which I would suggest that you sit upon. Unless you prefer to stand?”

  Since my limbs felt strangely unsteady, I chose to sit. I could not explain this to Leslie and I answered his questioning gaze simply with a smile. But for once he did not smile in return. This surprised me and I wondered if he were preparing to be disagreeable again. He seemed to be searching for certain words and I realised that perhaps he wondered if I were breeding. I blushed deeply at the thought, aware that from this morning I could set his mind at peace. Yet modesty made it difficult for me to speak of such a thing even to my husband. Nevertheless, it was his right to know. “Leslie,” I spoke hesitantly, “I thought it best you know. There ... there will be no child from ... from...”

  “You are sure?” he asked urgently.

  “Yes, my ... the ... yes,” I replied.

  He glanced away, at war with himself, I realised. Though he felt relief that this would not be another problem in our lives, he also felt disappointment. He knew it had been his only chance for an heir. Yet when Leslie spoke, the words were proper enough. “I am glad, Heather. It would have been one more reason for you to hate me. And even if you did not resent the infant, I would not wish a child to grow up in such a home as ours will be. Children are quick to sense moods and ours might have felt tom between us.”

  I felt unaccountably bold as I asked, “Yet if matters had been different you would have wished for children?”

  He answered frankly, “Yes ... if matters had been different.”

  I became bolder still, “And you have none?”

  He flushed. “None. In general I am a careful man. I would not wish for the birth of a child as handicapped as a by-blow must be. But Heather, you should not speak of such things.”

  “They should be outside my knowledge?” I suggested sarcastically. “Oh, I know well enough not to ask such questions of anyone else. But I felt that with you I might be frank.” He did not answer and I sighed. “Very well. I don’t understand, but I shall endeavour not to shock you in the future.”

  ‘Leslie laughed. “Heather! There never was such a woman as you! What would Mrs. Gilwen say if she could hear you?”

  “Don’t speak to me of Mrs. Gilwen,” I retorted. “She taught me to believe the world was gentle and that one could never find oneself in a position too difficult to cope with!” Leslie did not answer, nor did I truly expect him to. His words, when he did speak, were of an entirely different matter. “I ought to warn you, Heather, I expect another guest within the week.”

  “More family?” I asked in dismay.

  “Are they so difficult to bear?” he asked laughing.

  I blushed. “No, of course not, it is simply, well, a bit of a strain occasionally.”

  “Well, you need not fear. This guest is no relation of mine. In truth, I do not know him very well. He is coming from London on a business matter. The Earl of Pellen. He shall not be staying above a day or two,” Leslie explained.

  “Well,” I said equably, “perhaps he will prove a calming influence.”

  “Hmmm,” was all he said.

  “What tale will you tell him of our marriage?” I asked.

  Leslie, shrugged, staring at the ground. “None. There will be no need. He is not the sort to ask such questions and his wife will not be with him.”

  “But if he should?” I persisted.

  “I shall tell him the truth: that I married you straight from the schoolroom.”

  I was far from reassured, but there was that in Leslie’s manner which warned me not to pursue the matter. And in truth I could not say Leslie was mistaken concerning Lord Pellen. I had so little knowledge of men that I could ill gauge how the earl would react. How bitterly aware I was of the differences between my upbringing and that of other young women! I felt only anger toward my unknown father. How unfair that I must suffer because of his carelessness! Had Leslie fathered a child out of wedlock, I should have welcomed it into my home as my own rather than see it follow the course I had. Or worse. I had seldom felt so alone as I did in that moment. For always before, I had been able to believe that one day all would be well. One day I would find love. Now I had no such hope. For the briefest moment I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned and looked up to see Leslie beside me. He cleared his throat and said, “Perhaps we should go back.”

  I nodded and rose. As I approached my mare I felt none of the trepidation I had known earlier. Leslie lifted me easily to my perch and again I was unable to repress a shudder. He appeared not to notice, however, and I was relieved he did ! not reproach me. Still lost in self-pity, I preferred not to speak. My silence nettled him for after a time, Leslie said, “Do you expect me to disappear simply because you ignore me?”

  I flushed. I could not admit he was right. What I should have said in reply I do not know, for it was at that moment I spied Philip. He was cantering toward us and I remember thinking that he looked very handsome. Why could I not have been married to him? I wondered bitterly. I waved to Philip, my eagerness restrained only by the unease I felt as to my seat. A glance at Leslie’s face sufficed. He was not pleased. Yet he forced himself to greet Philip pleasantly enough. “Good morning, nephew. You’ve a fine horse there. One of Bradley’s breakdowns, I collect?”

  Philip grinned, “Yes, prime blood ain’t he? You needn’t read me a jobation about expense, either, for I won him in a wager.”

  “And the counterbid?” Leslie asked easily.

  Unaccountably, Philip flushed. “Well, I shouldn’t like to say in front of Heather.”

  My curiosity whetted, I said airily, “Such fustian! Go ahead and tell us.”

  Leslie started to object then, oddly, changed his mind for he said, “Yes, tell us, Philip.”

  Still flushing, Philip spoke to Leslie, “Well, you recall the opera dancer you said I must be rid of? I had just come round to the same point of view when Thomas offered me a wager. I’d nothing else to bid so it was this horse against the key to the girl’s place. Well, I’d have given it to him for nothing at that point and instead I won this gelding.”

  “And the girl?” I asked faintly. “She didn’t mind?”

  “Why should she?” Philip asked, frowning. “Thomas is devilishly handsome and has more of the ready than I do. I thought myself rather clever.”

  Leslie seemed to be laughing. “I am afraid my wife does not understand these things, Philip.”

  “No, I do not!” I retorted. “And I wonder you encourage him, Leslie!”

  “Oh, I neither encourage nor discourage,” he replied easily. “I avoid meddling in Philip’s affairs as much as possible.”

  “Oh, I say, Aunt Heather, don’t nab the rust,” Philip said, “I daresay the girl was as tired of me as I was of her. Besides, she was only an opera dancer, they expect such things.”

  He had placed a hand on the mare. I drew her back
and said icily, “Since the two of you find it so amusing, I leave you to yourselves. Leslie is quite correct, I do not understand such matters!”

  With dignity and a skill with horses I did not suspect, I carefully drew my horse away from theirs and set off for the castle. Inwardly I seethed. Were all men so horrid? I had yet to meet one who was not! I was sufficiently angry that when my mare desired to break into a fast pace, I forgot all sense of fear and encouraged her. Thus it was I arrived at the stables with my hair flying behind me, the pins scattered somewhere, and out of breath. With difficulty, I halted the mare. A groom ran forward and grasped the reins and held the mare steady as I slid to the ground. “Did she run away wi’ ye?” the fellow asked anxiously. “She’s normally sich a gentle ’un.”

  Feeling exultant after my ride, I laughed. “No, she did not run away with me. I wished to see how fast she was.”

  “And Sir Leslie?” he continued, still anxious.

  I was by this time headed to the house and I called carelessly over my shoulder, “Oh, he is somewhere with Master Philip.”

  I was as astonished as the poor groom when, in the next moment, Leslie’s horse galloped into the courtyard. He dismounted immediately, tossing the reins over to the alarmed groom. Frozen in amazement, I could only watch as he strode toward me, his face an unreadable mask. He grasped my arm fiercely and demanded, “Are you all right? How came your mare to bolt like that?”

  I laughed uneasily, “Oh, she did not bolt, Leslie. I urged her to the pace myself.”

  As I spoke, disbelief crossed his face, then he shook me angrily. “You fool! You’ve never sat on a horse before today and you ... you crammed her? I suppose you would have enjoyed being thrown? Well, you’ll not ride alone, do you hear? And if you try such a trick again I’ll have you barred from the horses altogether!”

  I grew angry. What right had he to dictate to me? Rebellion grew as I retorted, “I shall o as I please!” Then, in an instant, I knew how to wound him. Smiling and lowering my voice so only his ears could catch my words, I said, “Why should you object? Surely it would serve your plans best were I to be found dead in a field somewhere, my horse bolted.”