Page 41 of The Soldier
For St. Just, it was a form of torture.
“You are doing much to bring Rosecroft back to its former beauty, my lord.” Elizabeth peeked over at him from under her bonnet. “Tell me, do you believe you might revive the commercial aspect of the property, as well?”
“I know little about raising and selling flowers,” he dodged, though he’d been considering just this project. “The work you see out here is the result of my houseguest’s enthusiasm for gardening, as well as Winnie’s efforts with Miss Farnum.”
“So you, yourself, do not garden.” Miss Tosten nodded, approving no doubt, as her prospective husband must not be in trade. “But I understand you are fond of horses?”
Fond of them? He’d supported himself very well buying, selling, and training them, thank you very much. He owed his life to horses many times over, and his passion for them eclipsed mere genteel fondness.
“I am,” he replied, vowing he’d not disgrace himself with unruly speech again.
“As am I.” She nodded again, gaining momentum. “They are so pretty and useful.”
“That they are,” he allowed, thinking of the emaciated, scarred, weary animals he’d seen littering countless battlefields. “But what are your other interests, Miss Tosten?” He most assuredly did not add “or may I call you Elizabeth?” because he could already see her beginning to plot in earnest:The earl is interested in my accomplishments, Mama!
“I play the pianoforte a little, of course.” She wrapped a second hand around his arm as they walked along. “I sing and have modest talent with watercolors. I have not yet been to Paris, but Mama says we shall go next spring before the Season for some fittings and to polish my French.”
“But what of the seasons other than spring, Miss Tosten? How do you fill the hours then?”
“One corresponds, of course.” She blinked and frowned as if in thought. “And we pay calls, and Mama is very active in local charities. I strive to learn from her example. Just this week, she motivated the Ladies Charitable Guild to investigate the state of widows andorphanshere in the parish. Mama is a most charitable lady, and I hope to follow in her footsteps.”
“I wish you every success,” the earl said, his sarcasm apparently lost on her.Oh, Mama—he mentally winced—the earl was most enthusiastic about the Orphan’s Fund. How clever of you!
Miss Tosten would never come to him with a new recipe that needed perfecting. She would never tear across the gardens barefoot in pursuit of a laughing child. She would never make soft, yearning sounds when he kissed her.
“Rosecroft.” Douglas sauntered up behind them, Lady Tosten hanging on his arm. “I was just explaining to your guest we will not be able to attend their assembly, as I am going south in the next week or so, and you might well accompany me.”
“Just so.” The earl could have kissed Douglas on both cheeks. “My niece, Rose, is Lord Amery’s stepdaughter, and I have yet to make her acquaintance. I might have time to jaunt south and still be back here before harvest.”
“Oh, never say it.” Lady Tosten waved a hand. “Your niece has her entire life to make your acquaintance, but we have only the one summer assembly, your lordship. You must both stay.”
“In our family,” the earl said, gently disengaging Miss Tosten’s arm from his, “we do not take one another for granted. As Rose is only recently out of mourning for her own father, she needs her uncles, and I’m thinking she might enjoy making Winnie’s acquaintance, as they are already corresponding.”
He watched as Lady Tosten registered that Winnie would be introduced to the Duke and Duchess of Moreland and all their progeny. “For the present, ladies, I must beg you to excuse us. There was a deal of correspondence delivered with the morning post, and it does not answer itself.”
Lady Tosten almost hid it, but he saw her disappointment that again, no luncheon invitation would be forthcoming.
He’d no sooner dispensed with the Tostens, though, when Hadrian Bothwell presented himself, having arrived again on foot. Douglas excused himself, muttering something about drains and fall calves, so the earl rang for refreshments and wondered how anybody got anything done when the damned knocker was up.
***
“So will you really come south with me?” Douglas asked the earl over dinner. “Or was that merely an evasive tactic?”
Emmie glanced up at him sharply, as did Winnie.
“I don’t know.” The earl frowned at his soup. “It’s tempting, but I don’t want to ask one of my geldings for that effort again so soon… and I would miss my Winnie.” Winnie’s face creased into a bashful smile, but she said nothing. “Though I would be gone only for a few weeks, I suppose. Could you spare me, Win?”
“Would you come back?”
“I would come back. I give you my word I’d come back, and before winter, too.”
“You’d go to see Rose?” Winnie asked, brow knit. “I suppose that would be all right. She is your niece.”
“And you are my Winnie,” the earl reminded her, but beside Winnie, Emmie was blinking hard at her soup.
“Emmie?” The earl turned his gaze on her. “Will it suit for me to make a short trip south?”
“Your roof and your stone walls are well under way,” she said, “and harvest is still some weeks off. I’m sure Rosecroft could manage without you for a few weeks.”
