Page 12 of The Grey Lady of the Manor

The look of stunned surprise on Goody Prue’s face was worth a mint. Letty’s face hurt too much for her to laugh, fortunately, because it would have been most unwise.

Father recovered from his astonishment first, wrenched Prue from Perkin’s grasp, and stood breast to breast with the thatcher.

“I know you. You’re the lad repairing the roof of Master Smythe’s cottage, the one that burned down last year. Now tell me, what’s all this about?”

Letty saw Perkin wince, but he folded his arms across his chest and looked her father squarely in the eyes.

“I am, indeed. I come from Bulforde, close to Rooks Well. I presume you know it?”

“Never mind that. Tell me what you’re up to before I call the constable.”

Father was trying to soothe the spluttering Prue and stand up to the implacable Perkin at the same time. Letty was too torn between laughter and fear to do more than stare in horrified fascination. What would be the outcome of this skirmish? Surely, Perkin’s gallant support of her would do more harm than good.

He took her hand and squeezed it before addressing Father. “Truth be told, I wanted to teach your malicious wife a lesson, sir. She treats your daughter worse than a stray dog, and I am appalled that you can allow such cruelty to go on beneath your roof. You’re spoiling Letty’s character, turning her into a frightened doe, convinced that whatever she does will bring the hounds upon her.”

Stay—she wasn’t as timid as all that, was she? After all, she’d pushed Perkin in the village pond, quite regardless of the consequences.

Father’s fingers trembled, the pallor of his face testament to his anger. He prodded at Perkin’s chest.

“And how exactly does that concern you, young rogue? Answer me that!”

“It concerns me because I am the man Letty is going to marry.”

Chapter Nine

Perkin caught his breath and gazed down at the woman he’d just claimed for his own. She was angry, unshod, unwilling—and totally adorable. Before she could utter a word of protest, he caught her up in his arms and marched out of the yard with her, followed by the confused gaggle of geese he’d herded together from the local common.

“Why would I want to marry you?” Her arms were twined around his neck, but whether it was compliance or because she intended to strangle him, he had no idea.

“Because I am your hero, who has come to your rescue.” He tossed his head, raised his chin, and did his best to appear heroic. But the vigor was starting to ebb from his veins. He’d done a terrible thing, which they might both live to regret.

“Don’t you like me? Not even a little?”

“No. You are loathsome. How can I go back home now? Stepmother will flay the flesh from my bones.”

“She’ll not lay another finger on you, not while I still draw breath. Marriage is the best way to keep you safe—you’ll be under my protection, not your father’s. He doesn’t deserve you. You know I speak the truth.”

She scowled at him. “Where do you think you’re taking me? This is abduction, you know—I consented to nothing.”

“I confess that I overplayed my hand, but I swear to do the right thing by you. I’m taking you to Temple Roding manor, so we may be amongst decent, sensible people.”

“They can’t see me like this!” She released her hold, catching at the unlaced edges of her kirtle. “I don’t even have my coif on.”

He didn’t mind at all, but he understood. He set her down as soon as they were out of sight of the village and ushered her into a shady patch of woodland.

“Here—I’ll knot my kerchief around your hair while you lace up. We need shoes for you, though—I shall have to go back for your belongings.”

She gazed up at him, her eyes wide. “You’d really do that? Go back into the lion’s den?”

“For you, I would brave anything.” He knew that he meant it. Sarah Thatcher had a comfortable life with a father who doted on her and a mother who never raised a hand to her—she had no real need of him but as a handsome suitor to parade around. Letty Carter did need him, whether she knew it yet or not.

She tutted as she tied her laces together. “A pretty speech, but if I go with you, where are we to live? And what are we to live on—air?”

He noted with some pride that she hadn’t rejected his suit outright. If she was pondering the practicalities of being man and wife, she’d given him an opening, and he must make the most of it.

“We’ll dwell at the manor if they can accommodate us. I must expect that as soon as news of this event reaches my master’s ears, he’ll cast me out of his abode and sue me for breaking my indenture. But my term’s almost up, and by the time he’s decided whether or not to go to the law, it will no longer be worth his while.”

“What then? What about your things?”