specimens that had been taken from the lake over the years. ‘Do you fish, Miss Beth? Many ladies do.’
‘I…I don’t know.’ There was no point in racking her brains over it. If there was a memory, it would refuse to show itself, as always. Perhaps, if he put a rod in her hand, she would do it automatically? Perhaps the body remembered such things all by itself, just like writing or singing?
He laid his free hand over hers for a moment in a brief gesture of reassurance. ‘Forgive me. That was clumsy of me. And in breach of our agreement, besides. But if you would like to learn to fish, I should be more than happy to teach you. I-’ He stopped dead, struck by some sudden thought. ‘Ah, no. Not this year. What a pity.’
The shock of his words numbed her senses as surely as a cascade of icy water. He must be planning to leave again soon. She was going to lose even those brief chances to feast her eyes on him. Beth’s throat was suddenly too tight for speech. Her silver-armoured knight had delivered her to safety and now he was about to ride off in search of new adventures, perhaps to rescue some other lady in distress.
If there had been anguish in her face, he had not noticed it, for he continued, as if thinking aloud. ‘Riding, now, is a different matter. That can be enjoyed all year round. I wonder, Miss Beth, if you ride? No, do not tell me that you do not know. Tell me instead that you are willing to give it a try. Let me mount you on my most biddable mare and then we shall both see whether you know what you are doing in the saddle.’
‘I-’
‘If you do, then we may ride around the park together. What say you, ma’am?’
Was he planning to leave, or was he not? The question was hammering at Beth’s brain, forcing out all other notions. She shook her head, trying to clear the fog of confusion.
‘Oh.’ His voice sounded flat. Was he disappointed? ‘I assure you there is nothing improper in my proposal. I would ensure we were accompanied by a groom at all times.’
He had misunderstood her. No wonder, for she herself was mightily confused. ‘I did not mean- I beg your pardon, sir, I was not refusing your offer, merely-’ She closed her mouth firmly. This was no time for gabbling like an excited schoolchild. She took a deep breath. ‘I do not know whether I have ever learned to ride, sir, and I agree that it could be…um…interesting to find out. However, I cannot accept your word that your proposal is not improper. Perhaps you will allow me to take Mrs Aubrey’s opinion on that before I decide?’
He was having trouble concealing his smile. ‘Whatever else your memory may conceal from you, ma’am, your sense of propriety is very much to the fore.’
Beth was not at all sure that was a compliment. Before she could work it out, he continued, ‘And, if you will permit me, I shall take it upon myself to persuade Mrs Aubrey to chaperon you. I am sure she will agree that the exercise would be beneficial.’
Beth had no choice. She nodded her agreement and fixed her eyes on the smooth water of the lake. Something disturbed the glassy surface. Ripples were spreading from a point about thirty yards from the bank. ‘Oh, is that a trout?’
‘Possibly.’ He shrugged his shoulders.
‘I am surprised at your reaction. You said you were a keen fisherman, sir. Will you not be fetching your rod in order to catch him?’ He smiled down at her then. Rather indulgently, she fancied, as if he were dealing with a small and ignorant child. Temper overcame her earlier turmoil. She straightened her shoulders and glared at him. ‘May I ask why you are laughing at me, my lord?’
He tried to school his features into a serious expression but he failed. He was laughing at her. Beth wrenched her arm from his and spun round so that she was presenting Jonathan with her back. She would rather not talk to him at all if this was how she was to be treated.
‘If that is a trout, ma’am, it will be a miracle. No laughing matter, in truth. In my absence, the herons have had all the fish. I need to restock.’
She let out a long breath. ‘Oh.’ The light dawned. She turned round to face him again. ‘So that explains why you said- Um.’ One day she would learn to think before she opened her mouth. She was careful and measured with everyone else. So why was it that she behaved like a fool with Jonathan? And only with him? From now on, she must keep her emotions under the strictest control.
He had stopped laughing. Perhaps he had recognised her embarrassment? He held out his hand invitingly. ‘Now that we are both agreed on the subject of riding and fishing-’
‘And sheep,’ Beth put in pertly, recovering a little of her composure and determined not to let him best her again.
‘-and sheep,’ he agreed with a smile that could only be described as slightly sheepish, ‘I suggest that we return to the house to consult Mrs Aubrey on the subject of propriety. Will you take my arm again, Miss Beth?’
Jon relaxed into the hot water and closed his eyes. It had been a perfect day. He could not remember when he had last enjoyed himself so much. The simplest pleasures were certainly the best, and riding round his own park, in company with Beth Aubrey, was most definitely a pleasure.
She might not know how to fish, though until they tried it, there was no way of knowing that for certain, but she had certainly been taught to ride. Well taught, too. It had been obvious from the first moment he had thrown her up into Becky’s saddle. She sat tall and secure, controlling the old mare easily with whip and heel.
She was definitely a lady. Well educated, cultured, musical, good in the saddle… So who on earth was she? And why was it that no one was searching for her? She had spent the best part of a year at the Fratcombe rectory and there had been not the slightest hint of who she was or where she came from. A mystery. A truly baffling mystery.
He began to soap his limbs. Was Beth doing the same at this very moment? Her muscles must be aching after riding for so long. Mrs Aubrey had smiled benignly and waved them off into the park, with the obligatory groom trotting behind. It had been such a glorious, liberating day that Jon had allowed his pleasure in her company to overcome his common sense. He knew perfectly well that, if Beth rode too long, she would suffer for it. She had made no complaint, of course. She was too much the lady to do so. And, he fancied, she had been enjoying Jon’s company too much to give it up.
He threw the soap into the water in disgust. What a coxcomb he was becoming! Beth Aubrey was his lady guest, nothing more. If she had been enjoying his company as they rode together, it was not to be wondered at, for she had precious little recreation time. She occasionally visited the Miss Alleyns and Miss Grantley, but apart from that, she spent her time as unpaid schoolmistress to the village and unpaid helper for all Mrs Aubrey’s charity projects. Beth would maintain that she was more than content, that she was merely repaying the Aubreys’ generosity, but Jon was far from convinced. She was a young woman still, and she should have at least a little time to herself to enjoy a young woman’s pleasures. Such as riding.
He was suddenly glad that he was leaving Fratcombe in a few days, for Beth Aubrey was much too tempting. He could not take her riding again, much as he might wish to. That would start the worst kind of gossip. However, as an acknowledged friend of the Aubreys, he could make provision for Beth to ride the old mare in his absence. His grooms had little enough to do. He would instruct them to make the mare ready every day and to accompany Miss Aubrey whenever she wished to ride out. She would have free rein over the whole of his park which was the least he could do. Once her muscles were used to riding regularly, she would enjoy the exercise, he was sure. And she would have no need of Jon’s company.
He realised, with a start, that he would miss her. With Beth, he did not have to mind his tongue. Indeed, she seemed to understand what he was going to say before his words were out. They laughed together. They talked of anything and everything, without restraint. And they shared the simple joys of nature and fresh air, and a love of the land. It was a pity Beth was not a man. A man could perhaps have become a friend.
He would miss her company, but it was wise, he knew, to avoid her. He had assumed that a little distance would subdue his desire to possess her delectable body. It had not. And now, in addition to desire, there was something more, something deeper-admiration, and liking, also.
With a groan, he dug into the cooling water for the soap and began to scrub at his legs.
‘I’ve brought your hot water, Miss Beth.’ It was Hetty, carrying the large brass can across to the dressing table.
‘Goodness, I have overslept! How could I have-?’ Beth made to sit up and throw back the covers. ‘Argh!’ She could hardly move. Every single muscle was shrieking with pain. With a supreme effort, she rolled on to her side and forced her legs out of the bedclothes so that she could push herself up with her hands. ‘Good grief! I feel as if someone has pounded me all over with a…a cricket bat.’
