The Illegitimate Montague. Sarah Mallory

and leave old Jacob to look after my shop and warehouse all alone? I needed you here, Frederick.’ She glanced up at Adam, and some of the certainty seemed to leave her. ‘Now, if you and Jacob would look after Mr Stratton’s horse, and kindly unload the wagon, I shall take our guest indoors.’

      She led the way in through the warehouse. It was stacked high on all sides with rolls of fabric—gaily patterned cottons, creamy muslins, shiny silks in a rainbow of colours, woollen cloth in every shade from black and deepest blue through autumn browns to greens the colour of spring leaves.

      ‘So Frederick and the old man are the only help you have?’ he asked her.

      ‘Yes, but they are very loyal, and we manage very well.’

      There was something defiant about the way she spoke but Adam did not question it. Silently he followed her between the racks to a door leading into a small corridor with a narrow staircase.

      ‘Ah,’ he said, following her up the stairs. ‘You live above the shop.’

      ‘Of course. I grew up here.’ She led him to a bedroom with a washstand and a mirror in one corner. ‘This was my father’s room. I think his shaving box is here somewhere… .’

      Adam held up his saddlebag. ‘I have my own razor, ma’am, and a brush and comb, thank you.’

      He eased himself out of his coat, his grazed knuckles and a certain stiffness in his shoulders reminding him of yesterday’s confrontation at the river.

      ‘Good.’ She reached out and took his coat, making sure she did not touch his hand. ‘I will find Maizie and send her up with some water.’

      She picked up the jug and Adam watched her hurry away. She was nervous, but that was only to be expected: she was a woman alone, and he was in her house. It occurred to him that she had not been so nervous when they had been alone together under the stars, but now she was acting as if that had never happened. The woman was an enigma, but if she wished to forget their encounter, so be it. He had enough worries of his own. With a sigh he sat down on the edge of the bed and waited for the maid to return with the hot water.

      When he had washed and shaved, Adam went downstairs in search of his coat. The shop was empty and he took the opportunity to look around.

      A bow window looked out onto the street and allowed the morning sun to flood in, making the polished mahogany counter gleam with the lustrous sheen of a dark ruby. Lengths of ribbon hung in a profusion of colour at one side of the window, while behind the counter rows of drawers lined the walls, topped with shelves where rolls of fabric were neatly stacked. Returning to the rear of the shop he now noticed that a fire was burning merrily in the hearth, for although the spring sun streamed in through the window, its warmth did not extend to this nether region. He sat down on one of the two armchairs placed on either side of the fire and waited for his hostess to return.

      He did not have to wait long. The door at the back of the shop burst open and she hurried in, his jacket over her arm. She checked when she saw him, then came forward, shaking out his coat and holding it up for inspection.

      ‘There. I have brushed it clean as much as I can, and sewn new buttons on for you. I am afraid they are not a perfect match, and the coat looks a little shabby too.

      I am sorry for that—if you were staying longer I would have a new one made for you.’

      He took the coat and shrugged himself into it.

      ‘Then perhaps I will stay.’

      He noted the look of alarm in her dark eyes before she turned away, busying herself with straightening the candlesticks on the mantelpiece. She said haltingly, ‘About last night … Fred and Jacob will not mention to anyone that we were alone together. I trust I may count on your discretion too?’

      ‘You have my word upon it.’ He paused, watching her back. She was tense, ill at ease. He wanted to know why, but doubted she would confide in him. He said quietly, ‘You sent breakfast up for me. I thank you for that.’

      ‘After your kindness yesterday it was the least I could do.’

      ‘Kindness! Amber, I—’

      ‘Yes.’ She interrupted him. ‘Your arrival was fortuitous, Mr Stratton, and our time together was a pleasant interlude, but I am sure you wish to get on now.’

      ‘A pleasant interlude?’ His brows snapped together. ‘Is that all it was to you?’

      ‘Of course, it would be foolish to think anything else.’ She raised her head and put back her shoulders before turning to face him, saying brightly, ‘You are looking much more the thing now, Mr Stratton. Jacob has saddled your horse, and is waiting in the yard for you.’

      She was dismissing him. She stood, eyes downcast, waiting for him to leave. Her manner was cool, an ice maiden compared to the passionate woman he had held in his arms last night. Should he mention that? Did he want to stir up such memories when he would be leaving Castonbury again shortly?

      The answer had to be no.

      With the slightest of nods he left her, closing the door carefully behind him.

      Amber heard the quiet click as he shut the door. Only then did she look up. He had gone. And that was what she wanted, was it not? He had no intention of staying in Castonbury—the fact that he was travelling with only one spare shirt told her as much—so it was best that they end it now, before she lost her reputation.

      And her heart.

      Amber strained her ears, listening to his footsteps fading into nothing. He would walk out through the warehouse to the yard, leap on his horse and ride away. She ran to the window. After a moment she heard the ring of metal on the cobbles. As he passed the window he drew rein and looked in. Amber jumped back, letting the coloured waterfall of ribbons hide her from view. Was it disappointment she saw on his face? She could not be sure. It was gone in a moment, as he settled his hat more firmly on his head and trotted off.

       Chapter Three

      Adam rode hard to Castonbury Park, determined to forget Amber Hall. It should be easy—after all, he had known her for less than a day—but the manner of their meeting and the passionate night they had spent together were not so easily dismissed. He knew many men who were only too willing to bed a pretty woman as soon as look at her, but he was not one of them. What had happened with Amber had taken him by surprise and he was intrigued by her, wanting to understand just why he was so drawn to her. Unfortunately it appeared he held no such attraction for the lady, since she had been so eager to send him away. Adam’s hand tugged angrily at the reins and Bosun threw up his head, sidling nervously. Immediately he released his grip.

      ‘Easy, old boy,’ he murmured, running his free hand along the horse’s glossy neck. ‘I’m a fool. She wounded my pride, nothing more. I’ll be giving Amber Hall a wide berth in future.’ He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks. ‘Come up, now. We’ve more important matters to deal with!’

      The great house looked very much as he remembered it, the sweeping drive and soaring pillars of the portico imposing, designed to impress the most august visitor.

      But Adam was not here to visit the family. He turned away from the main entrance and made his way round to the stables. He gave his horse into the care of a waiting groom, tossed him a silver coin for his trouble and strode back to the house, entering by a side door that led through a maze of small passages to the servants’ quarters. The corridors were deserted and Adam arrived at the door to the housekeeper’s sitting room without meeting anyone. He lifted his hand, hesitated and lowered it again. Then, squaring his shoulders, he raised his hand and knocked softly.

      There was no reply. Trying the handle, the door opened easily and Adam stepped inside. Suddenly he was ten years old again, coming to find his mama. There were the cushions and footstool that made the armchair by the fire such a comfort, the large dining table where his mother would entertain the upper servants occasionally, the long table under the window