Page 2 of Almost a Countess

“I’m certain they willgive you no trouble as long as you are not sheltering the man theyseek.” Dora hefted the bag and strode to the door. “If you’ll staywith Gretchen, I’ll leave these things with your wife and be backout in a moment.”

The tenant nodded, though his gazecontinued to scurry all around the farmyard.

“Good morning, Mrs.Hawkins.” Dora smiled at the robust woman sitting in a rockingchair, the new baby held to her breast. Two other children, a girljust walking, and a boy, a sturdy toddler, were playing at theirmother’s feet. “What a lovely family you have. Congratulations onthis newest little one.”

“Thank you, miss.” Thewoman’s glance darted to the door behind Dora then she beamed downat the baby rooting lustily at her nipple. “We’ve called him Harry,after me da. He’s a grand wee one, so he is.”

“You must be very proud.”Dora set the carry bag on the scrubbed table. “I’ve brought a fewthings you and the baby might find helpful.” She pulled out a softblue blanket she’d discovered in the attic at Bromley and hadfreshened then a pink and white shawl she’d brought with her fromhome but had no real need of. Finally, she withdrew a wrappedhaunch of venison, a large wedge of cheese, and two loaves of breadMrs. McComber had baked early this morning. “And these are to helpyou regain your strength.”

“Aye, thank you, MissHarper.” The woman’s eyes had widened as she stared at the bounty.“You’re that good to us, miss. Charlie said we’d gotten a piece ofluck indeed the day you arrived at Bromley.”

“A piece of luck for bothof us, Mrs. Hawkins.” The words had come automatically, althoughDora doubted their veracity. Her gaze rested briefly on each of thechildren and finally on their happy mother. The woman was scarcelyolder than Dora’s eighteen years, yet she had a thriving family.Something Dora could no longer aspire to.

After breaking her betrothal toTristan, Lord Trevor, she had no hope of another marriage. Deemedruined by her father, she’d been banished to Yorkshire to get herout of sight and out of the minds of the rest of Society. If shecould not get herself recalled home sometime during the comingwinter, her prospects of anything other than the life of aspinster—and likely a pariah—were slim to non-existent. There wasno society here where she could hope to meet an eligible gentleman,and even if there were entertainments in York or Leeds, she’d haveno escort to such gatherings. Her father’s exile was punishmentindeed.

Seeing the woman content with herchildren around her, Dora couldn’t help but think if she’d notreleased Tris from his promise, she might even now be married andexpecting their first child. But then Tris could not have marriedViolet, his true love and her own dear friend. Although shesuffered a tinge of regret every time she thought of it, she wascertain she’d done the correct thing. After seeing the way Trislooked at Violet—with unyielding love and deep desire—she’d wantedthat same regard for herself and was wise enough to understand shewould never have it from Tristan even if they were married ahundred years. She’d let him go with only the one regret: a familyof her own.

Smiling at the tableau of mother andchildren, Dora picked up the empty carry bag. “I must go now, Mrs.Hawkins, if I am to be home by luncheon. If you need anythingbefore I return, please send to Bromley. We want our tenants to dowell here.”

“Thank you, Miss Harper.”The woman held her child closer and smiled at Dora gratefully. “Youare an angel sent from the heavens. God keep you safe.”

“You’re more than welcome.Goodbye.” Dora shut the door, her smile dimming as she turned toMr. Hawkins, rubbing Gretchen’s nose as he patiently waited. “Thankyou, Mr. Hawkins. You have a fine family, and a beautiful new babyboy.”

“Thank you, miss.” Hehanded her the reins then cupped his hands to give her a boost intothe saddle. “He’s a brave lad, he is. Growing like a weed in just aweek. He’ll have a hand in the plowing before you knowit.”

“I’ll check in on you nextweek as well, Mr. Hawkins. I told your wife, if you have any need,please send word to Bromley.” Dora settled herself in the saddleand gathered the reins in preparation to leave. By the shadowsaround the house, she’d be only a little late for lunch if shehurried a bit.

“Miss Harper, have a careon your way back.” Standing in the yard, with the grass all aroundhim, Mr. Hawkins looked small for the first time. “Avoid those thesoldiers if you can. The enlisted men seemed a decent sort, but theofficer in charge, well, he had a wild way about him.” Mr. Hawkinsstared at her earnestly. “When I told him I’d seen nothing of thisman they’re searching for, he bellowed I’d better be telling himthe truth. If not, I’d be regretting it. Then he sent one of hismen into the house to look for their fugitive. Gave my wife astart, but she’s a steady woman.”

“I’ll be careful, Ipromise.” Mr. Hawkins needn’t worry on that account. Between hisdisturbing tale and Mrs. Jameson’s admonitions, she’d become morethan wary of the situation. A swift canter back to Bromley was herdearest wish now. “Good day.”

“Good day, mistress.” Hewaved, and Dora tapped her heel to Gretchen’s flank.

They started into a trot thatimmediately turned into a canter. The sooner they could get safelyhome, the better.

Rather than return the way she hadcome, Dora struck out across a fallow field, Gretchen’s hoovesthundering on the bare dirt. Their rhythm increased Dora’s urgencyto get home before some unknown calamity befell them. She risked aglance back over her shoulder, certain she’d see the troop of menhard on her heels, but the field remained empty save for the dustthat flew up in her wake.

When they reached the grassy verge atthe edge of the field that marked the farthest point of Mr.Hawkins’s tenancy, Dora pulled Gretchen down to a jog then to awalk. She was as winded as the animal she rode. Unaware she’d beenpanting the whole time since leaving the farmhouse, Dora gulped inhuge lungfuls of air. “Good girl, Gretchen.” She leaned down to patthe horse’s sweaty neck. “I think it’s best if we head for thatstand of trees just ahead and let us both catch our breaths in theshade.”

The short walk calmed Dora a measure.She’d no business allowing Mr. Hawkins to alarm her so badly.Should she happen upon the soldiers riding about searching for theprisoner, they would likely do nothing more than question her tosee if she’d seen the man and since she hadn’t, they’d allow her tocontinue on her way. Surely the officer of whom Mr. Hawkins hadspoken was a reasonable man. He was an officer, afterall.

Still, a trickle of dread made its waydown her spine. A young woman was never supposed to ride withoutescort of some sort—at the very least a groom, although what Alfredalone could do against a group of five men didn’t bear thinkingabout.

She hadn’t considered it in the monthssince she’d come to Yorkshire. The countryside had been calm, evenboring, all summer long. With so few servants to attend to thetasks of the estate, she’d begun riding out in the mornings aloneeither for the sheer pleasure of the ride or, as with today’souting, to care for her father’s tenants or the people in thevillage. Seldom had she seen another soul, save the ones shevisited or occasionally a man and his sons working in the fields.It had seemed perfectly safe for her to go about byherself.

Now she had never felt soalone.

Steering Gretchen under the trees,Dora guided her mount toward a small creek, where the air wasappreciably cooler. Gazing about again, Dora breathed a sigh ofrelief. Nothing and no one was stirring. The trees provided somecover, and Gretchen could follow the stream for the next two milesfor it would lead straight to the lane that fronted the manorhouse.

Though she hated to admit it, from nowon she must take Alfred with her when she rode. Today’s scare hadtaught her that much.

No sooner had the thought crossed hermind than Gretchen neighed and shied away from the creekbed.

“Whoa, girl.” Doracontrolled the frightened horse with sure hands on the reins. “Whatwas it? A snake?” She glanced down but could see nothing alarmingsave a splash of red flowers against the near bank. “Are you afraidof roses now, my dear?” Grinning, Dora looked closer. They weren’tflowers though. What she’d taken for red blooms was, on closerinspection, some kind of fabric. She peered at it and cocked herhead. What on earth was it?

Gretchen danced toward it, and thefabric moved.

Dora gasped as the brown grass besidethe “roses” stirred then reared up, becoming the head of a man, hisface streaked with mud and blood. He blinked then stared into hereyes. “Please, lass, can you help me?”