Cinderella And The Duke. Janice Preston

stocking will be dry by now.’

      Leo made his farewells to Freddie, who made no attempt to follow them from the room.

      As soon as she entered the kitchen Rosalind hurried over to the fireplace and snatched at the stocking. ‘Yes, this is dry.’ She bent to scoop Leo’s boot from the floor. ‘And although your boot is still damp, it is an improvement, I am sure. And it is not so far to Halsdon Manor. I am sure you will—oh!’

      Leo had followed her across the room and, as she straightened, he was right beside her. He lifted her chin with one finger, tilting her gaze to his.

      ‘I understand you are anxious, Rosalind, but there is no need to fill every second of silence. You may tell me “all that has happened” if you wish, but I shall not interrogate you.’

      Conversely, his words fuelled her apprehension. He saw far too much with that keen silver-grey gaze.

      Leo released her chin and sat down to pull on his stocking and his boots. ‘Your brother mentioned, though, that you are unlikely to remain here much longer. Where will you go?’

      ‘Oh. I do not... That is, I am not certain.’

      She had avoided thinking beyond their immediate future. She had not planned much further than ensuring Nell was safe. She and Freddie could not impose on Sir William’s hospitality for ever, but where were they to go? Back to Lydney? The idea was unpalatable, with Sir Peter—as far as she knew—still in residence, and yet she could not leave him in sole charge, and what of the school holidays? Jack must return in the summer and she would have to go back then. She could not leave him to Sir Peter’s care.

      She sighed. Indecision. It had plagued her ever since they fled Lydney. She did not know what to do for the best. The only decision she had reached was to wait until Nell’s Season was complete. Maybe that would show her the way forward.

      ‘What is it?’ A gentle finger feathered between her tight brows. Leo had finished pulling on his boots whilst she was lost in thought and now stood before her. ‘You are troubled. Allow me to help.’

      Rosalind swallowed the ache of tears at those gentle words. How she wished...but there was nothing he could do to help.

      ‘I am sorry. It is nothing.’ She stretched her lips in a smile. ‘We might stay here. I have not decided yet.’

      ‘You have not decided? Does your brother not have a say in what you do?’

      ‘It was a figure of speech. I meant we.’

      ‘Your brother... He is a man. He has a man’s pride.’

      Rosalind frowned at him. ‘He is my brother. You have only just met him.’

      Leo regarded her thoughtfully. ‘I had no intention of annoying you. I do wonder, however, if—’

      ‘It is not your business to wonder at what my brother and I do or how we live, sir.’

      Nerves fluttered within as his brow lowered. That had been rude. Nonetheless, she stifled her urge to apologise. Her family was her business and no concern of anyone else. Particularly someone they had only just met and who could have no idea of what life had thrown at them.

      ‘What happened to your brother’s leg?’

      The abrupt change in conversation took her by surprise and she answered without any censorship of her words.

      ‘It was a carriage accident. Freddie’s leg was crushed and our father was killed. My mother and I were uninjured.’

      ‘I see. And how old was Freddie?’

      She did not care for the understanding in those silvery eyes. It made her feel like weeping. ‘He was one year old.’

      ‘And you were...what...three? Four?’

      ‘Six. I was six.’ Her birthday. She stamped on the memory of that terrible day even as her hand crept, without volition, to the comfort of her locket and the memory of Grandpa, of sitting on his lap as he told her stories.

      ‘Your father was killed, you say. Where is your mother now?’

      Rosalind grabbed the poker and stirred viciously at the fire. ‘She died when I was nine.’

      ‘And Freddie would have been only four. Do you have other brothers or sisters?’

      That deceptively simple question hovered perilously close to matters Rosalind wished to avoid. She dropped the poker on to the stone hearth with a clatter, and marched across the kitchen to haul open the door.

      ‘It was kind of you to retrieve my hat, Mr Boyton. I make no doubt you long to return to your friends at Halsdon.’

      Leo raised a brow and scrutinised her from head to toe. Then he smiled.

      ‘We will meet again, Rosalind, before I leave Halsdon. On that you may depend.’

      He strolled across the kitchen, taking his hat from the table as he passed. As he neared Rosalind, her breath quickened under the magnetic pull of those extraordinary, omniscient eyes. Might he try to kiss her? Touch her? He did neither. And she was left shaken and bereft as he strode from her sight.

      She used her pent-up energy to tidy the kitchen, before taking Freddie his newspaper—ordered daily from London—and the letter she had collected from the village.

      ‘There was a letter from Jack,’ she said, on entering the room. ‘I could not tell you whilst Mr Boyton was here. Jack writes that Sir Peter visited the school and quizzed him as to Nell’s whereabouts.’

      Freddie held out his hand. ‘May I read it for myself?’

      ‘Of course you may.’ Rosalind handed him the letter. ‘It is addressed to us both. He suggested to Sir Peter that you had expressed a desire to visit Brighton and that he might enquire for us there.’

      She laughed, trying to catch Freddie’s attention, but he appeared disinclined to share the joke, managing only the slightest smile in response. Mentally, she shrugged away Freddie’s bad mood. He appeared edgier by the day. Being forced out of Lydney must be affecting him more than she realised.

      ‘Jack thinks it a fine jape to hoodwink Sir Peter like that, but I pray it will not rebound upon him. Sir Peter is, like it or not, his guardian. He could, if he chooses, impose sanctions or punishments. I worry—’

      ‘You worry too much.’ Freddie’s vehemence cut short Rosalind’s words.

      ‘Well, yes...but that is, surely, understandable, Freddie. I worry about you all.’

      Freddie did not reply, but the mutinous set of his mouth did not imply agreement.

      ‘What is wrong, Freddie? I hate to see you so out of sorts. Do you miss home?’

      ‘Of course I do. Don’t you?’

      ‘Well, yes, but I make the best—’

      ‘Do not—’ Freddie levered himself to his feet ‘—tell me to make the best of this...this half-existence.’

      ‘But...Freddie...we agreed...’ Rosalind trailed into silence at Freddie’s scathing expression.

      ‘Since we arrived here two and a half weeks ago, I have been stuck in this blasted house and seen no one other than you, Nell and Penny until today. I have been nowhere and now, with the carriage in London, I cannot go anywhere even if my appearance wasn’t likely to set people talking and risk bringing Sir Peter post-haste to our door. Can you not realise how that makes me feel?

      ‘And, for all my sacrifices, it seems as soon as you make the acquaintance of some random gentleman, all your strictures about me lying low are forgotten and you bring him home. That is quite apart from your attracting the dubious attention of our new neighbour, Lascelles.’

      ‘That was not my fault, Freddie. And, as for Mr Boyton, mayhap you are right to feel aggrieved that I brought him home, but I simply wished to show my gratitude