A Warriner To Rescue Her. Virginia Heath

       Chapter Three

      Jamie could see the light of mischief in his sister-in-law’s eyes and did not like it one bit. If ever there was time for a speedy exit, it was now, but that meant standing like a creaking old man and then limping laboriously out of the room in front of Miss Reeves. He was torn between the devil and the deep blue sea. Staying opened him up to more mischief—of that he was in no doubt. Letty had a tendency to be tenacious when she set her mind to something and her mind was clearly set. However, leaving and displaying his infirmity was humiliating in the extreme, although why he was so keen to appear less useless in front of the vicar’s daughter was as pointless as it was pathetic. She was only being kind, after all.

      ‘I would certainly be interested to read The Great Apple Debacle. Will Jamie be in it?’

      Pregnant or not, he was going to strangle Letty later, but for now he had to take the bull by the horns and direct this unwelcome conversation or else die of total humiliation. Unfortunately, that meant making conversation. Something he had never been adept at. ‘What drew your father to darkest Retford, Miss Reeves?’

      ‘The diocese sent him here. We were in Nottingham for a few months beforehand and they felt his talents might be better used in a rural parish...away from trouble.’

      As Jamie had always thought Nottingham was a dire place, filled with poverty and crime, he completely understood. It was certainly no place for a lovely vicar’s daughter. ‘I dare say your father is relieved.’

      ‘Hardly. My father prefers working in a city, although I cannot say I do. Of all of his parishes, this one is by far the nicest we have ever lived in.’ Her face lit up when she smiled and her freckled nose wrinkled in a very charming manner.

      ‘You say that as if you have lived in a few places.’

      She nodded, the motion causing one of her burnished curls to bounce close to her neck, which in turn drew his eyes to the satiny-smooth, golden skin visible above the bodice of her plain dress, and, of course, the magnificent way she filled out that bodice. Jamie had always had a great deal of affection for a woman’s bosom and Miss Reeves’s bosom was undoubtedly one of the finest he had ever had cause to notice.

      ‘Indeed we have. Why, in the last five years alone, we have lived in eleven different towns.’ Her face clouded briefly and he realised this gypsy lifestyle was not something she enjoyed. He doubted he would enjoy being moved from pillar to post either. He had had quite enough of that on the campaign trail, although it was not the same. Moving about then had always been temporary and transient as he had always had a very solid place to call home. A place to go back to which remained resolutely constant. If Miss Reeves did not have that consolation, no wonder it made her unhappy. But then she was smiling again so maybe he was mistaken. ‘I have lived in Manchester, Newcastle, Sheffield—and obviously London. We have moved there several times although always to different parishes in different corners of the capital. It is so vast; I never had cause to revisit the places we had already lived in. Also we have spent some time in Bristol, Liverpool and Birmingham.’

      All industrial, overcrowded places, he noted. ‘I think you might find Retford a lot quieter than the places you are used to. Nothing much happens here.’

      ‘That is what I enjoy the most about it. I love all of the trees and nature, so does Orange Blossom, and it goes without saying the air is cleaner. I do so love being outdoors. I have spent hours aimlessly riding around every afternoon since my arrival. Hence I trespassed here yesterday without realising. I am sorry about that, too.’

      ‘Trespassed? Of course you didn’t.’ Letty was smiling kindly. ‘You are very welcome to ride on our estate whenever you want to. In fact, I absolutely insist you do. There are some very lovely spots in the grounds, especially close to the river at this time of year.’

      Miss Reeves’s eyes locked on his briefly and he saw her trepidation. He supposed he had been rude to her yesterday and, much as it pained him, Jamie felt the need to extend a tiny olive branch. ‘The river is a very pleasant place to ride. Even Satan likes it.’ Her eyes widened and he realised his choice of name for his horse was perhaps not really suitable in the presence of a vicar’s daughter.

      ‘You named your horse Satan?’

      ‘In my defence, he can be truly evil. He has a troublesome temperament and can be hostile around people.’

      ‘Much like his surly owner,’ Letty added for good measure. Jamie chose to ignore it.

      ‘Oh! I almost forgot.’ Miss Reeves rummaged in her capacious reticule and handed him a package wrapped in string. ‘I brought you a small gift. To thank you for attempting to save me and for breaking my fall.’ The gesture was strangely touching. When was the last time someone, other than Letty, had extended the hand of friendship to a Warriner? Jamie turned the gift over in his hands before undoing the wrapping. Miss Reeves became flustered and her words tumbled out. ‘Please do not get excited. I had no idea what you might want, but as you are a fellow horse lover I brought some carrots.’

      She was blushing again. She apparently did that a lot. As promised, three orange spears were nestled in the paper and, despite himself, Jamie felt the corners of his mouth curl up. What an odd, useful and totally charming, gift. ‘Satan loves carrots. Thank you.’ If he had not been broken and useless, he might have suggested she accompany him to the stables to help him feed them to the bad-tempered beast. But he was, so he didn’t. The thought of her politely accepting and slowing her pace while he limped along next to her made him feel queasy. Suddenly, his brief good mood evaporated. He covered the carrots with their paper and placed them on the arm of the chair and withdrew into himself.

      * * *

      For the next half an hour he remained almost mute. Miss Reeves and Letty held up the conversation and, if a response was required, Jamie grunted. To compound his discomfort, the subject of the ‘Great Apple Debacle’ was brought up and he was forced to listen to it regaled for Letty’s entertainment. Miss Reeves had a knack for storytelling. He had to give her that even though she barely paused for breath. Listening to her take on the unfortunate events of yesterday, combined with her self-deprecating wit and her insistence on trying to see the whole sorry affair through the eyes of her pony, was amusing. By the time she got to the end, he came out appearing sensible and noble, while she painted herself as silly and severely lacking in common sense.

      ‘It definitely would make an entertaining children’s story, Cassie, and if you do eventually consider getting it published, you should ask Jamie to do the illustrations. In fact, the painting he is doing right now is hugely appropriate, isn’t it, Jamie? And from such an interesting perspective.’ The innocence with which this statement was delivered was astounding and he gave Letty a tight smile which he hoped conveyed his intent to murder her as soon as it was politely possible.

      ‘It is just a study of the grounds and I sincerely doubt Miss Reeves would have any desire to have my amateur sketches in her book.’ Jamie had the overwhelming desire to pick up his stupid, ill-conceived picture and march out of the room with it. If only he could still march.

      ‘Nonsense—go and take a look at it, Cassie. Jamie is merely being modest about his abilities. Orange Blossom and the Great Apple Debacle would make a wonderful picture book.’

      To his horror, the vicar’s daughter appeared to find this idea intriguing and clearly something she had never considered before his meddling sister-in-law had planted the seed. ‘Pictures would be good.’ She began to rise from her seat and walked towards him with cheerful interest. His only hope was she would not put two and two together and recognise the orchard. She peered at the painting, bending slightly at the waist to get the best possible view, and wafting some deliciously floral scent directly towards his nostrils. Violets. He had always loved violets.

      ‘Letty is quite right. You are an exceptionally talented painter, Captain Warriner. Even unfinished, I can see this picture is outstanding. And quite charming.’ He risked a peek sideways at her and saw her eyebrows draw together as she studied the details