An Ideal Companion Read online

  Ruth wasn’t aware she had spoken her last thoughts aloud, until she raised her eyes to discover the uncompromising mask the loyal maid all too often wore when her capacity to understand and sympathise had deserted her entirely.

  ‘Oh, come now, Aggie, be fair!’ Ruth urged. ‘We might not have been there to witness, firsthand, what occurred, but we both have learned enough to be certain Lady Bea’s marriage was anything but blissful. It’s hardly surprising she was soured by her experiences, and avoids the company of men whenever possible. The wonder of it all is that she allows even kindly Dr Maddox anywhere near her.’

  ‘She does so because she likes to quack herself,’ Aggie returned, her compassion evidently very much in abeyance still. ‘Between you and me, miss, I think there’s a lot less wrong with Mistress than she’d have us all believe!’

  Even though she clearly felt more sympathy towards her employer, Ruth was obliged silently to own that Lady Beatrice did call on the services of the good doctor very frequently. Seldom a week went by without seeing his battered gig turning into the driveway. All the same, she refrained from further comment and turned her attention to what was happening beyond the window, hoping that the unseasonable light flurries might remain so and be of short duration.

  * * *

  By mid-afternoon those hopes had been well and truly dashed, as had any chance of visiting the market town again that day. In stark contrast to the light dusting she’d observed from her bedchamber window earlier, the covering of snow was now inches thick, with drifts in places very much deeper.

  As she continued to stare beyond the circle of trees in the general direction of the driveway, she was surprised to detect signs of movement just beyond the gateway. A moment later two figures on horseback, their faces well muffled against the driving snow, were slowly approaching the house, their intention clear.

  Harbouring strong misgivings, Ruth turned to stare across at the hearth, where her mistress once again sat comfortably ensconced in her favourite chair, contentedly sewing before the substantial fire. The unexpected visitors were clearly male, so what reception might they receive from someone who abhorred their sex? Then, of course, there was always the distinct possibility they wouldn’t be received at all!

  ‘My lady, I very much suspect two unfortunate travellers are about to seek refuge under your roof.’

  ‘Really?’ Lady Beatrice betrayed mild surprise, but thankfully no sign of annoyance. ‘Do you happen to recognise who they are?’

  ‘No, ma’am. Their faces are well covered. Both are leading a separate mount, possibly carrying their belongings. Which suggests they might have travelled some distance, does it not?’

  Lady Beatrice seemed to debate within herself for a second or two. ‘I suppose it is our Christian duty at least to offer sanctuary until the worst is over,’ she reluctantly acknowledged. ‘I know I may rely on you to deal with the matter. Do go and see what assistance we can render, my dear. As they are travelling on horseback, and not in a private carriage, I suspect they are persons engaged in trade. I dare say our groom could accommodate them both in his room above the stables if they are obliged to put up for the night.’

  Ruth didn’t delay in going out into the hall and opened the front door in time to see the far taller traveller dismount from a sturdy bay. As he entered the relative shelter of the stone porch he almost filled the aperture, his voluminous cloak brushing against both sides of the arched entrance. A commanding figure he undeniably was, yet when he removed his hat and lowered his muffler, there was nothing remotely intimidating in the set of his features. Apart from the slightly disfiguring scar that ran from the corner of his right eye, almost reaching the base of his nose, his expression suggested strongly an agreeable disposition.

  Above the strong, straight nose, a pair of searching blue eyes surveyed her with equal interest, while a well-shaped mouth was set in a pleasant smile that seemed in no way forced. ‘Forgive the intrusion, ma’am. But could my man and I beg the shelter of an outbuilding for a period for ourselves and our horses?’

  His pleasantly deep and cultured voice revealed in an instant that he was an educated man. This and the fact that his clothes were of the finest quality suggested he was definitely not from the lower orders. Or engaged in trade, come to that! Ruth wasn’t at all sure this made her position in any way easier. Had he been a tradesperson she would have agreed to his request without hesitation.

  She delayed for a moment only before inviting him to step into the hall, then turned to the young maid who had come scampering through from the kitchen, instructing her to direct the gentleman’s servant round to the stables.

  ‘Our groom will see to his needs, sir,’ she assured him, while relieving him of hat and cloak, and placing them down on a chair to be taken through to the kitchen to dry.

  ‘It’s uncommon kind of you to take pity on a stranger.’ He held out his hand. ‘Hugo Prentiss, ma’am.’

  Although his large hand completely enveloped her slender fingers, there was nothing clumsy or remotely aggressive in his touch. If anything, his clasp was reassuringly protective. ‘Ruth Harrington, sir. And it is not I who you must thank. If you would care to follow me?’

  She then led the way into the drawing room, experiencing a moment’s disquiet before Lady Beatrice’s initial frown of annoyance at the intrusion was replaced by one betraying deep thought the instant her uninvited guest, bowing with surprising grace for a tall gentleman, made his identity known to her.

  ‘Would you be one of the Hampshire Prentisses, by any chance, sir?’

  All at once there was a disarming glint in masculine eyes. ‘Cannot deny it, ma’am. Devilish rogues to a man! My brothers and I scandalised the county with our exploits in our youth.’

  No one could ever have credited Lady Beatrice with having a sense of humour, but this sally managed to elicit a surprising chuckle. ‘As to that, I couldn’t say,’ she responded while bestowing a rare smile of approval on her unexpected visitor. ‘But I do recall your sister causing something of a stir during her come out.’ The softer expression then vanished completely. ‘It was the year my husband passed away, so I remember it...particularly well.’

  Although Lady Beatrice’s tone had lacked any suggestion of emotion, the gentleman might have been forgiven for supposing she looked upon that year with deep regret. Ruth knew rather better, of course. If her employer had any regrets at all it was that her husband had not obliged her by meeting his maker a good many years earlier! Not wishing the amiable Mr Prentiss to waste his breath in words of condolence that would not be appreciated, Ruth quickly intervened by inviting him to take a seat.

  ‘Would I be correct in thinking you were a colonel in the army, sir?’ Lady Beatrice remarked, after Ruth had furnished both her and her unexpected guest with a glass of wine.

  ‘You would indeed, ma’am,’ he answered, while nodding approval after sampling the burgundy. ‘Unfortunately, I found serving in peace time not at all to my taste, and am now retired.’

  ‘So what brings you to this part of the world?’ Lady Beatrice enquired, surprising Ruth somewhat by this show of apparent interest.

  ‘I’m having some major alterations made to a country house I’ve recently acquired in Dorsetshire and considered it the ideal time to catch up with some old friends of mine residing near Lynmouth. I left at first light to commence my return journey, carrying with me a detailed map of how to cross the moor, thereby saving myself several hours’ travelling time by not following the coastal route. Needless to say we began the journey in fine conditions, otherwise we wouldn’t have attempted such a course, I assure you.’

  ‘I’m afraid the weather can close in remarkably quickly on the moor. But you’re welcome to stay here, Colonel, for as long as you need.’ She then turned to Ruth, who had remained standing in the hope of receiving further instructions. ‘Would you be kind enough to see
that a room is made ready for our guest. The blue bedchamber should serve very well. Don’t you agree?’

  Honoured, indeed! Ruth mused, successfully suppressing a smile until she had stepped into the hall, where she discovered her confidante and trusted ally emerging from the kitchen area.

  ‘You look well pleased about something. Happy to have company for a change, I suppose,’ Agatha suggested.

  ‘Partly, yes,’ Ruth acknowledged. ‘Colonel Prentiss is a very personable gentleman from what I have seen thus far. Not only that, he seems to have succeeded in charming Lady Bea, would you believe? She certainly knows something of his family background and has proposed we make our unexpected visitor comfortable in the blue bedchamber.’

  Agatha’s eyes widened. ‘Well, well, well! He must be a rare specimen to have won himself the best guest bedchamber!’

  ‘Or the mistress is just being immensely practical,’ Ruth countered, striving to bring a little common sense into the conversation. ‘Colonel Prentiss is a tall gentleman—over six feet, I should say. Lady Bea possibly thought the four-poster in the blue chamber would best accommodate him. See to it, would you, Aggie, whilst I attempt to negotiate the yard.’ She frowned slightly. ‘You see, there is something about this Colonel Prentiss that suggests to me he wouldn’t enjoy the comfort of the house if he supposed for a moment his manservant was suffering privation. So, I’d best go and check how things fare in the stable block.’

  Ruth had the forethought to don a serviceable pair of outdoor boots and a thick woollen cloak before braving the elements. On opening the door she was pleasantly surprised to discover the weather had noticeably improved since the arrival of their unexpected guests. The men Lady Beatrice employed to tend the garden, take care of the livestock and generally keep the place well maintained had already begun to clear away some of the snow. There was now a negotiable path across to the stables, where she found the Colonel’s manservant hard at work attending to his master’s horses. After introducing herself, she asked if he had everything he required.

  ‘Benjamin Finn,’ he responded, touching his forelock politely. ‘Thank you for the kindness of asking, miss. I’ll do very nicely out ’ere. The Colonel and I ’ave sought shelter in far worse places than stables, I can tell ’ee.’

  ‘I’m sure you have,’ Ruth responded, instantly judging that the man standing before her enjoyed a somewhat closer association with his master than that of a mere servant. He was possibly held in the same regard as she held Agatha Whitton—a confidante and friend. ‘But I’m equally certain your master wouldn’t be content to enjoy the comforts of the house, if you hadn’t everything you require.’

  Ben Finn’s weatherbeaten countenance all at once betrayed dawning wonder and a strong suggestion of respect. ‘Well, I’ll be dam—! Starting to get ’is measure already, are you, miss? Well, I can’t say as you’re wrong. Salt of the earth is Colonel Prentiss... One of the best. Could trust ’im with your life. There’s many that ’as, I can tell ’ee.’

  Ruth began to feel distinctly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken. It had never been her intention to discover personal details about the Colonel, most especially not by quizzing his servant. Worse still, she didn’t wish to appear to be showing undue interest in the unexpected guest. He was nothing to her, after all. And was never likely to be, come to that. Besides which, he wasn’t even handsome!

  Feeling quite unequal to returning the servant’s gaze, she dropped her eyes to two serviceable cloak bags. ‘Would those contain your master’s personal belongings?’

  ‘Aye, miss. I’ll take ’em over to the ’ouse when I’ve finished tending to the ’orses.’

  ‘I’ll save you the trouble, Ben, I can easily carry them back with me,’ she countered, taking a firm grasp of both handles, thereby putting an end to the matter. ‘The kitchen maid will be along presently with a steaming bowl of nourishing broth to warm you up, which ought to keep you going until supper time, when I dare say, should you wish, you’ll be invited to eat with the servants in the house.’

  The bags turned out to be much heavier than she might have supposed and she felt quite out of breath, not to mention unbecomingly flushed through the exertion. Consequently, she wasn’t best pleased to see none other than the Colonel himself emerging from the drawing room the instant she had deposited her burdens down on a chair in the hall.

  His slight frown betrayed his disapproval even before he said, ‘Miss Harrington, I very much appreciate you offering sanctuary beneath this roof, but I certainly don’t expect you to dance attendance upon me. I’m not too proud to carry my own belongings. I’ve been doing so for years.’

  She felt like a schoolgirl being scolded for some slight misdeed. With the possible exception of Agatha Whitton, and very occasionally Lady Beatrice herself, no one had ever attempted to criticise her actions for a good many years, not since her mother died. Perversely, she felt more amused than chastened by the mild rebuke, but even so, she had no intention of tamely accepting the reprimand like some cowed child, most especially not from a virtual stranger.

  Although he towered above her, her head barely reaching his shoulder, she faced him squarely, resolute, but singularly lacking the least feeling of hostility towards him.

  ‘And I’m not too proud to offer assistance where I can, sir,’ she countered, her voice pleasantly level, with perhaps just the faintest trace of resolve. ‘I do not think you perfectly understand my position in this household.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ he conceded. ‘But from what I’ve gleaned thus far, I’m fairly certain you’re not employed as a servant.’

  Which instantly begged the question of just what he’d discovered about her during her short absence from the drawing room. Lady Beatrice wasn’t given to gossiping as a rule. After all, she was rarely in company often enough to enjoy the pastime, Ruth mused. Yet, something must have encouraged her to talk reasonably freely in front of her unexpected guest. Evidently, the Colonel possessed a manner that inspired confidence and induced even the most reticent of souls to reveal information they might ordinarily keep to themselves.

  Ruth regarded him with dawning respect, realising all at once that much, much more lurked behind the air of affability and that polished easy manner of his; that behind the amused glint she’d already observed in those masculine eyes dwelt a character that was possibly both strong-willed and unerringly astute. Yet another salutary lesson, she mused, never to make snap judgements about people. And never to go by appearances alone!

  Doing her level best to suppress a wry smile, though not altogether successfully if the Colonel’s faintly suspicious frown was anything to go by, Ruth sensibly turned away, while she attempted to school her features, and her eyes fell on the travelling bags once again.

  ‘Rest assured, Colonel, I have no intention of taking your belongings any further than this. And I shouldn’t attempt to do so either, if I were you,’ she advised. ‘I doubt very much your bedchamber is ready for you quite yet.’

  ‘In that case, Miss Harrington, would you be good enough to direct me to the stable block so that I might consult with my manservant?’

  She did so with alacrity and Hugo was very soon making his way steadily across the cobbled yard to find his henchman engaging in a sportive exchange with a kitchen wench.

  By clearing his throat noisily he made his approach known, which resulted in the, now, furiously blushing maidservant scurrying away and his own servant wearing the most wickedly self-satisfied grin. ‘You’re an incorrigible flirt, Finn! Kindly remember we’re not in Spain now.’

  ‘Wenches are the same the world over, sir. Thems that are willing, and thems that ain’t.’

  ‘Well, so long as you keep it to flirting, I’ll not object,’ Hugo told him bluntly, while staring out with some dissatisfaction at the amount of snow still surrounding the unappealing grey-stone house. ‘After all
, we don’t know how long we’ll be obliged to kick our heels here. I shouldn’t wish to outstay our welcome by causing trouble among the staff.’

  ‘I shan’t do that, Colonel, ’ave no fear,’ Ben assured him, staring up at his master thoughtfully. ‘You don’t seem too ’appy to be putting up ’ere, sir. That scatty wench let fall that they don’t get too many callers to the ’ouse as a rule.’

  ‘I’d already come to that conclusion myself,’ Hugo admitted. ‘Seemingly, Lady Beatrice Lindley has turned into something of a recluse since her husband’s death. Through choice, I strongly suspect.’

  ‘Do you know ’er then, sir?’

  ‘I knew of her, yes. The seventh Duke of Chard was her brother-in-law. Married the duke’s young brother. Seem to recall he was something of a rum cove. I never did much socialising when I was in the capital. Not my scene at all, so it’s unlikely our paths ever did cross. But she knows my sister.’

  Ben cast an eye over the rear aspect of the house. ‘Grim sort of a place. Not like your new ’ouse in Dorset, Colonel. I’d not take kindly to being stuck out ’ere all year round.’

  ‘No, and neither should I,’ Hugo wholeheartedly agreed. ‘From what I’ve seen of the place thus far, it distinctly lacks the Manor’s comfortably friendly atmosphere.’

  ‘Maybe so. But that Miss ’Arrington be a friendly sort,’ Ben ventured.

  There was no response.

  ‘Very pretty...nice smile,’ he suggested, but again received no response. ‘Lovely big blue eyes.’

  ‘They’re brown,’ Hugo corrected, staring fixedly at the gateway entrance to the property.

  ‘Ah, so you did notice ’er then!’ Ben announced triumphantly. ‘I were beginning to wonder.’

  ‘Of course I noticed her. A very personable young woman. Unlike you, though, I’ve no intention of setting up a flirtation with her.

  ‘Besides which, I doubt very much she’d appreciate such overtures, as it very much appears she’s going to be kept busy,’ he added, gesturing towards the gateway, where a group of decidedly bedraggled and weary travellers were making their way towards the house.