Who Needs Mr Willoughby?. Katie Oliver

      Mrs Fenwick opened the door to let them in a few minutes later. With a great deal of fussing and tutting she led Mr Willoughby into the drawing room, and hovered nearby as he lowered Marianne to the sofa.

      “Are you sure you’re all right, miss?” the housekeeper inquired anxiously. “No broken bones? Should I call the doctor, or Lady Violet, perhaps –?”

      “No need,” Willoughby assured her. “Miss Holland’s had a fall, and she’s a bit dazed, but otherwise seems fine. At least,” he added, “so far as broken bones are concerned.”

      He smiled down at Marianne, and she caught her breath as his blue eyes crinkled attractively.

      “Thank you, Mr Willoughby,” she said, and smiled back. “You’ve been really kind.”

      “Kit, please. It was my pleasure, I assure you.” He turned to Mrs Fenwick. “Since Lady Valentine isn’t at home, would it be all right if I visit Miss Holland again tomorrow and see how she’s getting on, do you think?”

      The housekeeper nodded, charmed. “I see no harm in’t. We’ll see you tomorrow, then, Mr Willoughby.”

      “But how will you get back to Allenham, and Jasper?” Marianne asked.

      “I’ll walk,” he replied easily. “The stables aren’t above a mile or two from here.”

      “You can’t possibly walk all that way in this storm.” She turned to the housekeeper. “Please, Mrs Fenwick,” Marianne implored, “can’t someone drive Mr Willoughby back to the cottage?

      “That’s not necessary,” he assured her.

      “It most certainly is,” the housekeeper said firmly. “I’ll have my stepson Jack take you back. It’s the least we can do after you brought Miss Holland safely home.” She led the way to the front door. “This way, if you please, sir.”

      Mr Willoughby took up Marianne’s hand and brought it to his lips. His eyes, so darkly blue and intense, met hers. “Goodbye, Miss Holland. Until tomorrow.”

      “Until tomorrow,” she whispered, enthralled.

      ***

      The next afternoon, as promised, Kit Willoughby returned to Barton Park with a lavish bouquet of wildflowers in hand.

      He followed the housekeeper into the drawing room, where Marianne was ensconced on the sofa with her foot resting on a cushion.

      “I’ll have you know I spent all morning picking only the best examples of local flora for your bouquet,” he told Marianne as he gave her the flowers.

      “They’re beautiful,” she said, and breathed in their scent. “I love wildflowers.”

      “And…” he withdrew a slender white box tied with red ribbon from behind his back. “Chocolates, handmade and liberally sprinkled with Malden sea salt.” He smiled and laid the box on a nearby table. “I have it on good authority – my aunt’s – that they’re the best chocolates Carywick has to offer.”

      “I’m sure they are.” A smile dimpled her cheeks. “You’re too kind. Thank you so much.” She indicated the chair opposite her and handed the flowers to Mrs Fenwick, who bustled off to put them in water. “Please, sit down.”

      He dragged the chair closer and sat. “And how’s my patient this afternoon? Is your foot on the mend?”

      “It is. I must’ve twisted it when I fell. It still hurts a bit, but not nearly so much as it did yesterday.” She eyed him. “What about you? Did you get Jasper back to Allenham in that awful storm? Is he all right?”

      “Fit as a fiddle. He got extra oats and three carrots when we got back, so he did pretty well, all in all.”

      “I’m glad to hear it. And I’m very glad you happened to find me, Mr Willoughby.”

      “Not half as glad as me. And please,” he added, his blue eyes meeting hers, “call me Kit.”

      “Kit,” she murmured, and blushed. “But you have to call me Marianne.” She paused. “Is Kit your real name, or a nickname?”

      “Nickname. I was christened Christopher but almost no one calls me that. I doubt I’d answer if anyone did, I’m so unused to it.”

      A smile dimpled Marianne’s cheeks. “You don’t look like a Christopher; Kit definitely suits you better.” She hesitated. “Thank you again, so much. If you hadn’t come along when you did…” her voice trailed away. “It was really stupid of me to try and climb up that old rope.”

      “I often ride along the border of the two estates. I was on my way back to Allenham when I heard you scream.” He leaned forward and took up her hand, all traces of prior amusement gone. “I’m glad I found you as well, Miss Holland. Very glad.”

      His eyes met hers, and he brought her hand to his lips, and kissed it so tenderly that Marianne found herself blushing more deeply, both charmed and captivated by her gallant rescuer. Was there ever a more handsome or solicitous man in all of Hadleighshire?

      No, she decided as he entertained her with amusing anecdotes and jokes and Hadleighshire gossip for the better part of the afternoon, there most certainly was not.

      Perhaps, she thought as she smiled over at him, Northumberland wouldn’t prove to be nearly so bad as she’d feared, after all.

Chapter 6

      On Tuesday morning, Marianne had a cup of coffee and a few bites of toast before heading upstairs to get ready for her interview at the veterinary clinic.

      She stood before the cheval mirror in her bedroom and studied her reflection with a critical eye. She smoothed her hands nervously over her skirt. It was a bit prim for her tastes – she felt unlike herself in the pencil skirt and blouse and low heels – but it was the only suitable outfit she’d found in the village clothing store.

      And at least she looked professional.

      Even better, Marianne reminded herself as she grabbed up her handbag, Kit Willoughby had asked to see her again at the weekend. The thought of it put a spring in her step as she hurried down the stairs to the front door.

      “Off for your interview, miss?” the housekeeper asked as she pushed through the baize door that led to the kitchen. She held a tray of tarnished silver in her hands.

      Marianne nodded. “I’m taking the estate car. I’ll be back this afternoon. I’ll probably stop and have lunch in Endwhistle.”

      “Your mum and sister will be here tomorrow,” Mrs Fenwick reminded her. “At least then you’ll have a bit of company.”

      “I know, and I can’t wait. I miss them both so much.”

      “Well, I’m sure they miss you just the same. But at least,” she added with a gleam in her eye, “you’ve had your share of excitement, not to mention meeting that handsome Mr Willoughby, since you got here.”

      Marianne blushed. “Bye, Mrs Fenwick.”

      “Goodbye, lass. And good luck to you.”

      ***

      The veterinary clinic was located two miles outside of Endwhistle. She found it without too much difficulty. A two-storey stone farmhouse, modest but well cared for, stood on the left of the treed property and a smaller, low stone building occupied the right.

      “’Endwhistle Small Animal Veterinary Clinic,’” Marianne said out loud as she parked the estate car in the gravel car park and got out. The words were etched in gold script across a wide bay window. A riot of purple-and-white-striped flowers decorated the window boxes.

      Her gaze swept from the bright green door to the nearby pet runs and a fenced exercise enclosure, and a flutter of nervousness ran through her. She liked this