Page 3 of Awakening a Lord's Desires
Caroline rode home quickly, and after leaving the horse with the groom, she walked through the back door into the kitchens, basket in hand.
“Mrs Winters!” she called, entering the large, warm kitchen where the cook and two maids were already preparing breakfast. With a sigh, she set down the basket on the table. “I’m sorry; I could only get rosemary.”
Her cheeks threatened to blush when she thought of what happened next. I cannot tell anyone about meeting a man on the road. Mrs Winters will never let me out again!
“I tripped and fell and hurt myself a little, and so I wished to return.”
“You what?” Mrs Winters turned around from where she’d been stirring a pot, glaring at Caroline with horror.
Her ruddy cheeks were flat as her mouth fell open, and her dark eyes looked nervous. She put her hands on her widened hips.
“Now, you can never go out again or, like I said,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “your stepmother will have my head!” She wiped her hands on her apron and walked over. “Where? Where are you hurt?”
“It is nothing,” Caroline said, “just a mere bump on the head.” She touched it, trying not to wince, and Mrs Winters put a hand on her arm to turn her and look at it while the other maids looked on.
“You are brave, miss,” the one called Sara said. “Those woods frighten me to no end.”
“Me as well,” the other, Leah, said. “I wouldn’t dare tread there on my own!”
Perhaps you should. You might meet handsome young gentlemen who come to your rescue.
“Girls, keep your opinions to yourself,” Mrs Winters said sharply, and Caroline threw them a smile before they turned away to continue chopping.
“Well, it doesn’t look too bad, but I will make a poultice for you. You know, you will be the death of me, young lady.” Mrs Winters wagged a finger at her, but Caroline caught the smile on her face.
The cook had been such a comfort to her after her mother died, and now Caroline couldn’t imagine a day without her.
“I know, I know. But rosemary will still be useful, yes?”
“Yes. The potatoes for the evening meal will be all the better for it.”
“I thought so.” Caroline grinned. “But I should run upstairs and get ready for breakfast before Penelope finds me.”
She put a finger to her lips, and the two girls giggled, while Mrs Winters shook her head. “You be careful now. Who knows what she’ll do if she has a mind to be angry with you.”
Caroline backed away, out of the kitchen door, and scurried through the lower hallways and up the steps. Her mind was focused on the handsome stranger she’d been so close to, the man who’d touched her and smiled at her as if she were the only woman in the world. She’d blushed at his nearness and the heat of his gloved hand on her arm, and when he’d pulled it away, she’d felt bereft.
Caroline was just on the first step after the landing, ready to run up to her room, when she heard her stepmother’s voice from behind her. She froze, closing her eyes as she realised she’d dallied far too long. Her stepmother usually slept late or went to check in on Caroline’s father after she dressed, so Caroline would often not see her before breakfast.
No luck today, I suppose. One misadventure after another.
“Yes, Penelope?” she asked, slowly turning around and folding her hands demurely in front of her.
She’d attempted to tie back her hair again after the accident, but she knew it still looked wild and frazzled, especially after her ride back and her hasty ascent up the servants’ staircase. She’d also thought little of her appearance, when there was so much else to occupy her mind at the moment. A pair of hazel eyes, for one thing.
Penelope, with a lifted dark brow, strode towards her, disapproval etched on her every feature. Her dark hair was parted down the centre and slicked flat, pulled back into a tight bun at the base of her neck. She was everything that was proper and perfect. And yet, when her father had married Penelope years ago, Caroline had not been happy.
“Why do you look as though you’ve raced through the woods, branches catching on your hair and clothes?”
Caroline put her hand on the banister and took a breath. That had helped her over the years to garner enough patience to speak to her stepmother.
“Because I was helping Cook collect herbs, as I have done before.”
Penelope’s brow lifted even higher, and she narrowed her dark eyes. “You should not be doing such a thing. What will our neighbours think?”
“That I am interested in taking the morning air?” Caroline supplied, but Penelope only huffed.
“Or perhaps they will think you a simple country tart, parading your wares around for any young man to make use of,” Penelope said, and Caroline exhaled, trying to gather whatever small amount of patience she had left to her. “Your father may allow this, but that doesn’t mean the other people surrounding us do not think it very odd that a baron’s daughter is left to traipse wherever she pleases looking like that—unchaperoned, as well.”
