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Abandoning her was precisely what he had pledged to eschew, yet with a hole in the Becketts’ roof and limited hours of daylight remaining, time was of the essence. “You truly do not mind if I leave you here alone?”

“Not nearly as much as I will mind if young children are forced to go to bed with a hole in the roof over their heads because you were not there to ensure that it is mended.” She smiled. “Go. If Mr. Grayson knows what he’s about, your horse will be ready by the time you get there.”

He nodded. She was right. “Thank you, Rosalind.”

Chapter 16

Rosalind sat up in bed, a candle flickering on the table beside her, her eyes on the gap beneath the connecting door. She had no reason to believe that Sebastian would send her another note, but after hearing nothing from him since he’d left for the stables on the run, sleep was impossible. She had spent the afternoon alternating between attempting to read and pacing back and forth across the length of the library.

For hours, her imagination had run wild, picturing the poor Beckett children huddled in a cold corner of a drafty cottage with Sebastian and the Finley Park servants crawling all over the roof, attempting to remove half a tree from an enormous crevice in the tiles. She’d taken herself to task multiple times over the awful scenarios her overactive mind had conjured up—particularly when they’d included Sebastian falling through the hole in the roof.

When there was no sign of him at dinnertime, she’d asked that her meal be delivered to her rooms and had retired there for the evening. She’d watched the setting of the sun and the deepening of the darkness, and although she’d remained alert for any sounds coming from the neighboring rooms, her attentiveness had consistently been met by silence.

Of their own volition, her fingers moved to her lips. She touched them gently. She’d not intended to suggest that Sebastian kiss her to gain entry to the manor’s manicured lawn, but when her childhood explanation for kissing gates tumbled forth, there was no calling back the words. And now, she would never wish to. Just the thought of his lips on hers caused her limbs to tremble. It had been a very good thing that the gate had been there to keep her upright.

With another anxious glance at the connecting door, she pulled back the bedcovers and carried her candle to the writing desk. She could not continue like this. If conjuring up worst-case scenarios did not drive her mad, idleness surely would. Setting a piece of paper before her, she took up the quill and faced the blank page.

Dear Sebastian,

She trapped her lower lip between her teeth and pondered how best to express the idea that had been developing in her mind all evening.

I pray that you—and those who were with you—were successful in salvaging the cottage roof.

I have thought much on the poor Beckett family while you have been gone, and I wondered if I might take them a basket tomorrow. The task will likely require the use of a carriage or Belle, but if Mrs. Beckett has been unable to do any cooking since the accident occurred, I feel sure that the family would appreciate the gesture.

If this meets with your approval, I will speak to Mrs. Shoup first thing in the morning.

Yours sincerely,

Rosalind

She read the note and then added one more thing.

P.S. I arrived back at the manor without harm and without seeing a seagull. There was a robin sitting on the terrace as I passed, but as that is neither a seagull nor a sparrow, your counting abilities are once more in question.

After folding the paper and putting it into an envelope, Rosalind melted some wax over her candle and sealed the envelope closed. She turned it over and wrote Sebastian’s name on the front and then hurried across the room, where she crouched and slid it under the connecting door. She heard it skim across the polished wood floor, but when no footsteps sounded, she rose and returned to the desk.

Pulling out her diary, she turned to the back page and studied her list. Taking her quill in hand again, she studied the Bad Things side of the page for a full minute before determining that she could think of nothing more to add, so she turned her attention to the Good Things side. This list, by contrast, took little thought at all. 10. He cares about his servants and tenants. 11. He is an engineer. 12. He kissed me.

Warmth filled her cheeks, and she hurriedly set down her quill and closed the book. It would be best if she remembered that she had all but required Sebastian to kiss her. It would not have happened otherwise.

Carrying her candle back to the bedside table, she climbed under the covers and blew out the flame. Darkness filled the room. Forcing aside her worries over what had become of Sebastian, she closed her eyes and focused instead on what she and Cook might put into a basket for the Becketts. Fresh baked bread and pasties were much happier thoughts.

* * *

Sebastian shrugged out of his jacket and grimaced as his valet set it on the chair.

“You have my apologies, James. It is likely unsalvageable.”

It would be all but impossible for James to return the garment to its former pristine condition after what it had been subjected to today. He glanced at his breeches. Dirt smeared his knees, and a jagged tear caused by the branch one of the gardeners had been carrying marred the fabric.

“Not to worry, Your Grace. It is quite remarkable what a good scrubbing can do.”

His valet was as unflappable as he was optimistic, but Sebastian doubted he would see this particular jacket again. There was only so much that could be done with a snag that ran the entire length of one sleeve and ended in a hole.

He had not expected to be at the cottage for so long. Similarly, he had not anticipated participating in almost eight hours of manual labor. He rolled his shoulders, feeling the ache developing there. It had taken almost a dozen men to remove the downed tree limbs from the roof, and notwithstanding his position, Sebastian had refused to simply stand aside and watch the effort.

The hole in the roof had been substantial, and with a storm coming in, it had been vital that it be patched before the rain began. Every man hauling away branches and broken tiles knew that the damage would be magnified if water entered the house, and they had continued working even when darkness had fallen. Someone had produced lanterns, and the flickering light had enabled the men to see well enough to set strips of timber over the opening and to secure them with large rocks. Sebastian prayed it would be enough to protect the small family inside the house until the roofer could repair the hole properly.