Page 35 of Snowbound with the Scoundrel
“I think you might be holding the reins a bit too tightly,” his wife offered quietly.“The horses know their job.If you will but give them the freedom to do it—”
“Why must you always do this?”he snapped.“To hear you tell it, you would think I didn’t even know how to drive.Is it too much to ask that you try not to publicly humiliate me for once in your life?”
He caught Clarissa scowling.Rupert gave her a commiserating look.At least this was one failing he didn’t have.Of course, it wasn’t the best feeling when you learned that you weren’t any good at something, but the truth had a way of coming out.Far less embarrassing all around to admit it wasn’t your forte, have a laugh about it, and move on.By all accounts, Rosalind Baxter was an excellent whip.Why hadn’t her husband handed her the reins in the first place?
Rosalind responded to her husband’s tirade by ducking her chin in silence.One of the horses chose that moment to toss his head, tugging against his short lead.Baxter responded by drawing the reins in even tighter.The horse snorted and laid its ears back.
“Oh, fine,” Baxter said.“If you think you’re so clever, let’s see you do it.Unless you’d like to try your hand at it, Mr.Dupree?”
“Oh, no,” Rupert said cheerfully.“I’ve heard what a marvelous whip Mrs.Baxter is.I’m sure she’ll do far better with the ribbons than I ever could.”
“Fine.”Baxter thrust the reins at his wife—not the safest maneuver, with the horses going at a steady trot—then slumped against the door of the sled, crossing his arms.
Fortunately, Rosalind managed to get hold of the ribbons.Sliding her hands a good six inches back from where her husband’s had been, she called to the greys in a soothing tone.They immediately pricked their ears and fell neatly into step.
Oliver Baxter scowled out over the countryside.
Well, just because he was a miserable sort of fellow didn’t mean that Rupert wasn’t going to make the best of a delightful morning excursion.
He nudged Clarissa with his elbow and pointed to a snug, snow-dusted cottage peeking out between a few trees.“That’s the hunting cabin.Closed up right now as Lord H.is between gamekeepers at the moment.And over there is the chapel.”
Clarissa leaned forward, peering across Rupert toward the small stone building, and her shoulder pressed against his.Not that he minded.Quite the opposite, in fact.But he was surprised she didn’t flinch at the contact and jerk away from him.
“I thought the parish church was in town,” she said.
“It is,” Rupert said, trying to sound like his usual carefree self and not as if his heart was tripping over itself.“It’s a private family chapel.Only used for special occasions and whatnot.”
“It’s lovely,” Clarissa said softly.
It was true.The small stone building was frosted in fresh-fallen snow, and someone had draped ropes of holly beneath the arched windows.“It really is, isn’t it?”
Was it his imagination, or had Clarissa scooted closer to him in the sleigh?He could feel the warmth of her thigh pressed against his.
He wanted to put his arm around her.It felt like the most natural thing in the world.Of course, he couldn’t do that, so he gripped a fistful of his cloak to make sure his arms didn’t go getting any ideas.
All too soon, they had completed their circuit, and Helmsley Castle came back into view.Rupert smiled as he helped Clarissa, then Rosalind, from the sleigh.“Shall we gather some greenery, then?”
“I would like that,” Rosalind said.“It’s nice to be out of doors after having been cooped up for so many days.”
Her husband groaned.“Haven’t we wasted enough time with this nonsense?”
Clarissa looped her arm through Rosalind’s.Her smile looked forced, and when she spoke, her voice had a cheerful yet brittle quality.“Do not trouble yourself, sir.I would like nothing better than to gather some greenery with your wife.”
Baxter cast his eyes heavenward.“No, no.If she goes, I have to go, too.Otherwise, everyone will think me the worst sort of curmudgeon.”
He trudged off toward the woods, stamping his feet.
Rupert handed his cloak to a footman, as the day had grown sunny enough that it was too warm for such a heavy garment without the wind created by the sleigh.He then grabbed a pair of baskets from the stack Lord and Lady Helmsley had set out and a couple of pairs of shears and handed them to the ladies.He offered one arm to Clarissa, and the other to Rosalind.
As they set out three abreast, he whispered, “The worst sort of curmudgeon.How would anyone form that impression?”
The ladies were both tittering as they headed toward the grove.
Chapter16
There was a certain irony, Clarissa mused, in the fact that she had been tasked with protecting Oliver Baxter’s life.
Because here she was, tempted to strangle him herself.
