Working Man, Society Bride. Mary Nichols

looked down at his hand on her arm. It was a large hand, brown and tough from the work he did, but surprisingly neatly manicured. It was not gripping her tightly; in fact, there was a gentleness about him that decried his size. She knew she should stand on her dignity, and demand to be unhanded, but found herself tongue-tied. He was so close to her, close enough for his legs to be brushing against her skirt. And for a second, discomforting time, she found herself wondering what it would be like to be held in his arms. Unable to look at him, she turned away and he released her.

      ‘Goodnight, sir,’ she said and disappeared into her room, shutting the door firmly behind her.

      He went downstairs and met Viscount Gorridge and the Earl of Luffenham in the hall, apparently on their way to find out what was happening. ‘Good evening, gentlemen,’ he said cheerfully, as the footman opened the front door for him.

      ‘Who are you?’ Lord Gorridge demanded.

      ‘Myles Moorcroft, my lord. Your wife will explain my business here. You will find her with your son.’ And before he could be detained further, he hurried from the house.

      He wished he had never become involved with Gorridge. He certainly would not have done so if he had known the Earl of Luffenham’s daughter was staying at Linwood Park…. She had been disgusted with him and who could blame her? Carefully nurtured, she could know nothing of drunkenness and the japes working men got up to to amuse themselves. And he had made matters worse by maintaining his pretence of being a navvy and teasing her. His apology had been too little and too late. And how to redeem himself he did not know.

      But, oh, the pleasure of besting that young pup was not to be denied. The villagers would have sore heads in the morning, but he did not doubt they had enjoyed their evening and, when the navvies came to work in the vicinity, they would remember it with pleasure and there would be no trouble between the two communities, as there so often was when the railway builders arrived in a district. That would not be for some time because the survey had yet to be completed and approved, the legal side to be concluded with any landowners along the way, sub-contractors employed to do the work and a labour force assembled. When all that was done, he would make a point of inspecting the work at regular intervals and then he might meet the young lady again.

      Seeing her tonight, he realised she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her hair was as lustrous, her eyes as lively, her figure as perfect and that green dress, simple as it was, had been just right, setting off creamy shoulders and a long neck. She had been angry, though. He smiled as he let himself in through the back door of the Golden Lion; he would meet her again, he was convinced of it, and perhaps in more favourable circumstances. And he would do his best to win her round. It was a question of pride, though. If anyone had suggested he was falling in love, he would have hotly denied it.

      Chapter Three

      Edward did not appear for breakfast. Nor did Victor. Lady Gorridge, who felt some explanation was called for, told the Countess, in Lucy’s hearing, that her son had been taken ill while conducting some business with the railway engineer, a Mr Masters, who was staying at the inn in the village, and Mr Masters had asked one of his men to drive him home. She was sure that he was not to know that dear Edward would be so brutally manhandled. Of course they had been obliged to thank the man, but had made their disapproval clear.

      ‘I felt sure it was something of the sort,’ murmured the Countess, lying just as nobly as Lady Gorridge. ‘It can hardly have helped his recovery to be carried in that way.’ She frowned at Lucy, who was doing her best not to laugh. ‘I hope he is better this morning.’

      ‘Yes, indeed. I asked his valet, who assures me he will make a full recovery by luncheon. I am sorry that you will be deprived of his company this morning, Lucinda. No doubt he will make it up to you this afternoon.’

      ‘Oh, please do not worry about me, Lady Gorridge,’ she said. ‘Rosemary and I can amuse ourselves, I am sure.’ They were in the breakfast room, a small, sunny room looking out on to the park, which was dotted with fine specimen trees and grazing deer. In the distance she could see the sparkle of water. ‘Perhaps we will take a stroll in the grounds.’

      ‘Oh, yes, go wherever you please. You will find the path through the park to the lake a particularly pleasant one when the weather is hot. I would ask Dorothea to accompany you, but she has a music lesson this morning and her teacher is a little temperamental. He will not accept excuses.’

      

      Thus it was that Lucy and Rosie found themselves dressed in pale muslin with a parasol apiece, wandering across the short grass of the park. The conversation naturally turned to the events of the previous evening.

      ‘Do you think Mr Gorridge was drunk, Lucy?’ Rosie asked her.

      ‘His mother said he was taken ill.’

      ‘She would have to make excuses for him, wouldn’t she? I am sure he was drunk.’

      ‘If he was, I expect it was because that navvy plied him with drink and he is not used to it. It is well known that navvies are great drinkers.’

      ‘How do you know he was a navvy?’

      Lucy was caught out for a moment, but recovered quickly. ‘Lady Gorridge said the man worked for the railway engineer, so I guessed he was.’

      ‘He was magnificent, wasn’t he? I never met such a strong man, and the way he had Mr Gorridge slung over his shoulder, it was so funny, I wanted to laugh.’

      ‘It is as well you didn’t. It would have affronted Lady Gorridge.’

      ‘And he was so bold, wasn’t he? Later, I mean, when we met him in the corridor. He did not seem at all overawed.’

      ‘Overawed! I am sure he doesn’t know the meaning of the word. I expect that is the disrespectful way he speaks to all the women of his acquaintance and thinks nothing of it. He probably thought he was being gallant.’

      ‘He was handsome though, don’t you think?’

      ‘I am sure I don’t think of him at all,’ Lucy lied. ‘He is nothing but a common labourer.’

      ‘So he may be, but not many labourers are that good to look at. He was clean for a start and I liked the way his hair waved and the gleam in his eye, as if he found the whole world amusing.’

      ‘Rosie! How could you?’

      ‘Oh, go on, Lucy, don’t be so stuffy. I am sure you noticed it, too. You turned scarlet when he spoke to us in the corridor.’

      ‘If I did, it was with mortification.’

      ‘Is that why you pushed me into my room, or was it because you wanted him all to yourself?’

      ‘Rosie, I am losing all patience with you. I wish I had not told Papa I wanted you to come and keep me company, if that is all you can talk about.’

      ‘Whatever has got into you, Lucy? I haven’t done anything wrong. Talking about the man is not a sin. I am not about to fall into his arms and run away with him.’

      ‘Now you are being silly.’

      ‘Yes, of course I am. I would never jeopardise my future in that foolish way. I mean to make a good marriage, and that means at least eighty thousand a year, a house in town, a country estate and a hunting lodge in good hunting country. That doesn’t mean I can’t admire specimens like that navvy. If he really was a navvy. I have my doubts about that.’

      Lucy was beginning to wonder about that herself, but decided not to encourage her sister by admitting it. ‘You have high aspirations, Rosie.’

      ‘Why not? I want my husband to be at least Mr Gorridge’s equal. Maybe there will be someone among the guests coming this afternoon who will fit the bill.’

      ‘You are still only seventeen. There is plenty of time to enjoy being single first.’

      ‘And I mean to, don’t worry.’ They had arrived at the shore of the lake and