Mr. Trelawney's Proposal. Mary Brendan

hot afternoons…when he thinks he can get away with it.’

      Silence between them lengthened and Rebecca became uneasily aware of dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on her. ‘For it is about to rain, you know,’ she said distractedly. ‘Gregory Turner…oh, he and his wife help me at the Summer House…well, Gregory is quite sure that rain is finally due. He’s rarely proved wrong. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if…’

      She trailed off, aware that Luke had approached her again while she had been nervously chatting. He now rested against a hay bale within a foot of her, a disturbing sleepiness in his velvet-brown eyes. ‘…it rains tonight,’ she breathlessly finished, her aquamarine eyes wide and entrapped by his.

      A slow hand moved unthreateningly to her face, cupping her fragile jaw. She remained entranced as a dark thumb traced the curve of her lower lip with featherlight softness. Either he wasn’t as tall as she had at first thought or…He was bending to kiss her, she realised wildly as his face neared hers. Their eyes were still inextricably merged and when the leisurely descent of his narrow mouth brought their faces within inches of touching, Rebecca breathed out, ‘What are you doing here?’ She watched him frown and slowly, frustratedly, close his eyes as she shattered the spell he’d been casting.

      ‘Were you discovered by Williams trespassing?’ she asked, reverting to her initial line of questioning, stepping away again.

      ‘No,’ was the extent of his terse response and she sensed his irritation. He threw his head back and gazed up at the fanlight windows set high in the barn wall. He sighed, knowing explanations were long overdue. But then, so was easing the tantalising ache in his loins she had provoked hours before, and was now innocently boosting. Tumbling her in a sultry barn in the middle of the afternoon…it was hardly the time or place.

      Besides, he knew he wasn’t going to be that lucky. He almost laughed at his arrogance. Getting close enough for a kiss was proving one hell of a job. What was it he had mourned earlier today? The lack of necessary charm and seduction in his life? He had an unshakeable notion that he was about to dredge up every skill he had ever mastered in those areas. He gazed back at her, momentarily undecided, then said softly, ‘Come.’

      Approaching the barn door, he stretched out a hand behind him, beckoning for her to follow. She did so, ducking under his arm to gain the dry heat of the afternoon as he held the door open for her.

      ‘Miss Rebecca!’ Rebecca twisted about and then hurried the few paces towards Edward Miles as he hobbled across parched grass towards the barn.

      ‘Miles,’ she greeted him, for no one who knew him well ever used his given name. Miles was always just Miles. She gave the elderly man an affectionate peck on the cheek, as always, aware of his pleasure at seeing her. His faint watery eyes peered past her to the tall, dark man who impassively watched the scene.

      ‘So you’ve met the new master, Miss Rebecca,’ Miles bitterly muttered.

      Rebecca’s welcoming smile faded. She frowned her bemusement. ‘What do you mean?’

      Miles glared purposefully past her. She turned then to watch as Luke Trelawney approached them, aware, oddly for the first time, of overwhelming authority and power in his manner and bearing. Her mind raced back to his puzzling statement in the barn when she had offered to seek out Lord Ramsden. ‘You’ve found him…’ he had said and she had believed him to be joking; had wondered at his odd sense of humour. Her eyes sought Miles quickly, pleading for immediate explanations before Luke reached them. But the butler’s attention was with his employer.

      ‘The servants are assembled in the hall as you wished, my lord,’ he informed with a certain disrespectful emphasis on the title which didn’t pass unnoticed either by Luke or Rebecca.

      Mingling horror, disbelief and recrimination strained and whitened Rebecca’s face. She whispered, ‘Why didn’t you…?’

      ‘I did,’ Luke reminded her curtly. ‘You weren’t listening.’

      ‘In the woods…you could have told me hours ago in the woods. You let me make a fool of myself. Where is Robin Ramsden? You let me warn you needlessly earlier today…about prosecution…about the gamekeeper…’ The disjointed accusations and queries jumbled together in her distress.

      ‘As I recall,’ he mentioned silkily, ‘you seemed to lose all interest in who I was. You were more concerned with ridding yourself of my presence at the earliest opportunity.’ He caught proprietorially at her arm as he made for the oaken entrance to Ramsden Manor, intending to take her with him. Rebecca immediately shook him off, her feverish mind foraging for information.

      ‘Where is Robin Ramsden?’ she demanded shakily of her new landlord.

      He returned her stare impassively. ‘Well, come inside the house and I’ll tell you,’ he coolly answered. ‘The staff are assembled.’ He cursed inwardly as he realised he had made it sound as though he classed her amongst them. But Rebecca deliberately shunned him, turning to Miles. As Luke alone walked ahead, a solitary thick tear trickled from the corner of one turquoise eye.

      Ross weaved down the steps of the Manor, just as Luke was about to ascend them. Luke swore softly, wondering if the day could yet get worse. He grabbed at his younger brother’s arm, turning him and making him mount the steps with him and enter the hallway. Ross waved the bottle he grasped under Luke’s nose and slurred conspiratorially, ‘Found the wine store, big brother.’

      ‘So I see…’ Luke replied drily, at one and the same time relieved and exasperated by knowing the reason for his brother’s lengthy absence. He was beginning to wish to God he’d made this trip alone. Ross was becoming just another burden he had to deal with. Heaven only knew what he might get up to next. He supposed he ought to be grateful he hadn’t discovered Ross naked with one of the female servants he was about to sack.

      Two elderly, and three young, women scrambled to stand in a straight line as Luke entered the dim, cool hallway. They shuffled uneasily until they had the courage to look up. All were then instantly still with riveted attention.

      Rebecca entered with Miles, and Gregory who had brought her over to the manor in the small trap. She noted the women’s unwavering interest and being female knew the reason for it. As mouths dropped open and heads angled back to gaze at perfect features, she realised dully her estimation of his outstanding looks was being openly endorsed.

      Cathy, Joan and Sally, the three young women who worked below stairs at the Manor, stared with unabashed amazement. There then began a chain reaction of clandestine rib digging, Joan forgetting herself enough to actually nudge the middle-aged housekeeper in the same way.

      Judith instinctively slapped at her for this insubordination before freezing to attention as her new employer’s smouldering dark eyes settled on her. She nervously jangled the keys at her waist and then gripped her hands behind her back.

      Ross walked with intoxicated precision to the sweeping ebonized stairway, and leaning on the newel post, allowed himself to swing around and sit on a stair. He smiled amiably at everyone, his eyes lingering on the three homely young servants who, aware of his inspection, all blushed furiously and recommenced discreet elbowing.

      Luke collected a black superfine tailcoat from a mahogany hall chair. He shrugged casually into it before strolling to stand centrally in front of them and then turned to look at Rebecca. She and Gregory hovered by the open doorway, although Miles paced resolutely forward on arthritic joints to merge with the paltry line of servants awaiting their new master’s oratory. Luke stepped back from the people ranged in front of him so that Rebecca was kept in his line of vision. He shot a penetrating look at the elderly man with her, wondering who he was, wondering too why the whole place didn’t seem to have an able-bodied man about it. Remembering Rebecca talk of a carpenter’s apprentice, and a gamekeeper, he enquired, ‘Is there anyone else?’

      ‘Only young John, and Williams the gamekeeper,’ Miles informed him stiffly. ‘I can’t find them anywhere.’

      Luke moved a dismissing hand, signalling he wasn’t about to wait longer. He looked at