Page 20 of The Defiant Governess (Intrepid Heroines #6)

Seven

P eter struggled with the heavy wicker basket, refusing Jane’s help even though it knocked him in the shin with every step. “I’m not a baby,” he insisted. “And a gentleman always carries a parcel for a lady.”

Jane refrained from smiling and wondered where he had picked up that nugget of information.

“Very well,” she said. “I think we have picked a glorious day for our outing.”

The morning light was a rich gold, playing off the hints of color in the oaks and maples near the stables.

The air was getting crisper, hinting at a change of season, but the cloudless sky promised that by noon the day would be deliciously warm.

Jane had looked outdoors when she rose and suddenly decided to declare a holiday from the schoolroom.

Instead, they would take a long ride to visit the Abbey ruins that lay not more than four miles from Highwood.

She had been meaning to take Peter there—it was a good history lesson she assured herself.

And one should not waste such a glorious day!

As they reached the stables, Saybrook walked out from among the stalls.

He had just returned from an early morning excursion with his steward to inspect a broken millstone.

His coat of black superfine was draped over one arm and his cambric shirt was open at the neck, revealing a few curls of dark hair.

The breeze had ruffled his locks and they fell rakishly across his forehead.

Jane couldn’t help but notice the way the light filtered through the thin material of his shirt, outlining the broad shoulders and narrow waist. The shirt was neatly tucked into skintight breeches, which were immaculate even though his Hessians were spattered with mud.

“Uncle Edward, Uncle Edward! We are going on a picnic. Look! Cook has filled this whole basket and I carried it all by myself.”

“Well done, imp.” Saybrook took the basket in one hand and swung the boy up on his shoulder. He fell in step with Jane. “A splendid day for a ride. Where are you going?”

“To Salston Abbey,” she replied.

“Would you like to come, too?” chirped the boy.

Saybrook cocked a brow at Jane. “I haven’t been invited.”

“Of course you are more than welcome to join us, milord, if you don’t think you would be too bored.” Her mood suddenly felt even lighter. “Cook has prepared more than enough food.”

“Oh please, sir!” added Peter, who seemed unwilling to unwind his arms from around Saybrook’s neck until he got a satisfactory answer. In consequence, the marquess’s collar was twisted and the top few buttons of his shirt had been pulled undone.

“If you leave off strangling me, brat, I shall finish my business here and join you on the way. Hero could use a rousing gallop.”

“Hooray!” cried the boy as he slid to the ground, half pulling Saybrook’s shirt from his breeches.

Jane couldn’t help chuckling. “Let us be off, Peter, while His Lordship is still in one piece.”

Saybrook returned her grin and raised his eyes in mock apprehension. “Yes, I fear my valet will ring a peal over me, won’t he.”

A groom brought out the horses and Saybrook helped Jane to mount, then handed her the basket.

“I hope Peter has not ruined your day,” she said in a low voice. “If you are too busy …”

“On the contrary, Miss Langley.” His eyes were pooled with an expression she couldn’t fathom. “I look forward to a most pleasant day.” He glanced at the fast disappearing figure of Peter and his pony. “You had best be off, too, before he lands in some mischief.

As Jane urged her horse forward, she couldn’t help but wonder why it was that her stomach suddenly was feeling all aflutter.

The marquess was as good as his word. Well before they reached the Abbey the sound of galloping hooves announced the arrival of Hero and his master.

As Saybrook reined the big stallion into an easy walk, Jane noticed that he, too, was carrying a basket.

Surely Cook could not have sent more food!

Her questioning glance went from it to Saybrook’s face, but aside from a smug smile, he ignored her look and began to chat blandly about the weather and the prospects of the coming harvest.

Peter was less patient. After several minutes he could no longer contain his curiosity.

“What have you got in your basket, Uncle Edward?”

“You shall see later.”

“But I want to know now .”

“Patience, lad.”

The boy was silent for a bit. Then he spoke up again. “I’ll wager that Miss Jane could make you tell me,” he challenged.

“Miss Jane could do no such thing,” answered Saybrook coolly. He turned a challenging gaze towards her.

He had never spoken her name before, and to Jane’s surprise, her stomach gave an odd little lurch. For some reason she found it impossible to meet his look.

“Peter,” she admonished, in order to hide her confusion. “You mustn’t be impertinent.”

“And just why do you think Miss Jane could make me tell you?” Saybrook asked the boy. Though his face was serious, the twinkle in his eyes gave hint that he was enjoying himself immensely. “I’m quite curious.”

The boy thought for a moment. “Miss Jane has a way of looking at you that makes you feel that you have to do what she says without any argument,” he said. “And I heard Cook say exactly the same thing to Mrs. Fairchild. “

Another pause. “And Mrs. Fairchild agreed that when any difficulty that arose, it seemed that one had only to apply to Miss Jane and she would settle it—because no one dared argue with her. Then she said ...” Peter ‘s face scrunched in confusion. “I think she said there was an air about Miss Jane, as if she was to the manor born—but what air can be around Miss Jane that isn’t around us?”

“Peter!” exclaimed Jane.

“How odd,” remarked Saybrook dryly. “I was under the impression that I had something to do with running Highwood. What a relief to know it is in good hands.”

“Milord,” stammered Jane. “I don’t know where he picks up such things …. He must have misunderstood something he overheard. I-It is nonsense ….”

She stopped, utterly at a loss for words. Her face was flaming and her eyes went to Saybrook in mute appeal. “Please, this is a silly conversation—let us forget it.”

“Ah, the look!” drawled Saybrook, trying to suppress his mirth. “I see that I dare not disobey such a command.”

“Milord, you are making sport of me.”

The marquess gave a shout of laughter as he spurred Hero into a canter. “Peter,” he called. “There is the Abbey up ahead. Shall we race there?”

The two horses kicked up a cloud of dust, leaving Jane to settle her own swirling emotions as she made her own way towards the crumbling stone ruins.

Saybrook tethered their horses on a grassy knoll and took up both baskets.

“I should like to show Peter the Abbey before luncheon, if you don’t mind, sir,” said Jane. “It is his history lesson for the day.”

“Of course.”

They had entered an open courtyard, and though the walls were now no taller than an average man’s chest they formed a shelter from the breeze.

The sun had warmed the grass and grey stone, making it feel quite pleasant.

Saybrook placed both the large hamper and his smaller basket down and unfolded a large blanket that had been tucked on top of Cook’s repast.

“This seems a perfect spot.” He turned a questioning look to Jane and she nodded her approval.

“Now Peter, let us start with the main building. There is a fascinating story about it ….” She took the boy’s hand and led him away.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Saybrook take something from his basket and walk in an opposite direction.

She thought she heard the sound of running water coming from somewhere close by, but as Peter was tugging at her hand, she quickly returned her attention to showing him around.

To her surprise, Saybrook joined them shortly thereafter.

She hadn’t expected him to show any interest in a tour of the ruins, but he fell in step with them, his hands clasped behind his back, his head slightly cocked as if attentive to her every word.

In fact, she was acutely aware of his gaze, even with her back turned, as she explained to Peter the design of the buttresses in the transept of the ancient church.

As they strolled to examine some of the outbuildings Jane began to tell him about the part the abbey had played in the battle between Henry III and Simon de Montfort.

“Henry’s son, Edward, had moved his men here to camp right alongside the abbey,” began Jane.

“Edward was called Longshanks, you know, because he was so tall,” interrupted Saybrook. “He was a superb horseman—in fact, that is how he escaped from de Montfort in the first place. Do you know that story?”

Peter shook his head, and Saybrook gave a brief but very lucid explanation of the conflict between the King of England and his brother-in-law, Simon de Montfort. The boy listened in rapt attention.

“Sorry,” apologized Saybrook as he finished and looked over at Jane. “I interrupted you.” The surprise must have been so evident on her face that he added,” I did manage to learn a few things while at Oxford. History was a favorite subject of mine.”

“Please,” she smiled. “Do go on.”

As she listened to him regale Peter with the exploits of long-ago heroes, she couldn’t help but think of how he constantly surprised her.

In moments such as these, it was hard to believe there was a cold and unbearably proud side to him—which appeared to be the face that he wished the world to see.

It seemed to her that when the mask slipped—which was occurring with increasing frequency over the past few weeks—it revealed a sensitive, caring person.

Even now, as he spoke to his ward, his features were alive with good spirits and his eyes held the warmth of summer rain. With his hair tousled by the wind and curling softly around his ears and neck he looked rather boyish and vulnerable. And even more handsome than ever.

Saybrook looked up to find her staring at him.