The Marriage Rescue. Joanna Johnson
making a dubious choice of husband, and children, too, reliant on their fathers’ employment for survival. To remove the men from his service would be to punish their families, some of whom had served the Blackwell estate for generations, and he felt a twinge of conscience at the thought of that.
Damn it all. These animals should count their blessings.
He looked down at them, his face set in an expression of grim dislike. ‘I have decided on this occasion to let you off with a warning. Make no mistake, however,’ Edward went on. ‘I will not tolerate this kind of behaviour on my property. If I hear anything of this nature has happened again, next time I will not be so lenient.’
The light of their torches illuminated the men’s faces, each sagging with relief.
Only Milton looked mutinous, and Edward raised a challenging eyebrow. ‘Something troubles you?’
‘No, sir.’ Milton shook his head quickly, although resentment gleamed dully in his sunken eyes. ‘Thank you for your kindness, sir.’
‘Very well.’ Edward nodded his head in the vague direction of where the estate workers’ cottages lay. ‘You may all return home now, to reflect upon what I have said.’
The men slunk off, dogs creeping at their heels. No doubt to tell their wives of Squire Fulbrooke’s unfair and malicious treatment of his well-intentioned, faithful servants, Edward imagined. He snorted as he watched them go, slouching away between the trees. It was almost an anti-climax, how easily he had been able to intervene. They were cowards indeed.
Long grass knotted about his boots as he fought his way back up the bank and through the line of trees to where Selina waited, a silent shape at the base of an ancient tree.
‘Mr Fulbrooke!’ She leapt to her feet when she saw him coming, one hand at her throat and the other on the tree’s trunk to steady herself. ‘What happened? Is the camp—?’
‘Do not fear.’
Edward could hardly keep himself from reaching out to touch her shaking hand. She looked as though she might faint, he noted in alarm. Not that he would blame her if she did. She’d had the most terrible experience, and if anything he was rather impressed by how well she’d handled it.
The notion almost made him frown. ‘The men have gone and your camp is safe.’
‘Gone? Safe?’
Edward looked at Selina a little more closely. Pale and beautiful in the soft light of the moon, she appeared to be swaying now. ‘You look a little faint. Here, take my arm. We can walk together.’
‘No.’ Selina shook her head wildly. ‘I’ll ride—it’ll be quicker. I have to get back now.’
‘You’re in no fit state to ride anywhere. Let me help you. You’re no use to anybody unconscious.’
‘But Djali—’
‘Will follow us, I’m sure. Now, come. Take my arm.’
She hesitated, suspicion sparking in her eyes once more. Edward sighed, supressing a flicker of irritation. Mistrustful as a feral cat.
‘Miss Agres. I have risen in the middle of the night, ridden for miles and dispersed a mob—all in the name of your safety. Do you really think it likely that I undertook all that only to lunge at you on the pretence of offering my arm?’
Selina’s eyes flashed, and she opened her mouth to reply before evidently thinking better of it. She took a shaky step forward and, with the air of one with a gun to her head, slipped her hand beneath his arm and gripped tightly.
It was a warm little hand, Edward noted with a jolt of surprise. The night was chill, but the patch of forearm covered by her palm suddenly didn’t seem cold at all. It was an unexpectedly pleasant sensation. Usually having a woman on his arm felt intrusive, but Selina’s touch, although firm, was not invasive.
He wondered for a moment at how it was that her grasp was so much more bearable than anybody else’s had ever been. If he were to be honest with himself, it was more than merely bearable... At the first touch of her fingers he’d felt a sharp pulse of something unexpected shoot through him—a bewilderingly quick nameless rush that had caused him to frown in surprise. He glanced down at Selina, searching her face for any indication that she had felt a similar sensation, but she studiously avoided his gaze, the faintest suggestion of a blush colouring her cheeks.
‘Can we go now, please, Mr Fulbrooke?’
Edward smothered a smile at the careful politeness of her tone. ‘Of course. Watch your step.’
The slight pressure of her hand on his arm was the only way Edward knew she walked beside him. Her steps were almost silent, graceful as any wild animal.
It was only a short distance to walk: down a small slope, through a band of trees and then out into the secluded meadow that Selina’s Roma community had thought so safe.
Edward surveyed the scene in front of him. Fires had been lit in his absence, their orange tongues dancing in the night air, and a group of women stood to one side, conversing in low voices that flared with both sorrow and relief. Among them a young girl was singing softly in a tongue Edward didn’t recognise, gently rocking a baby on her hip. An old man, bent almost double with age, seemed to be tending to an injured horse, while a small boy carefully swept up a heap of spilled oats from an upended sack. Another cluster of women were gathered around one of the caravans, its painted sides still gleaming cherry-red in the firelight but heavily dented by brute force.
He approached cautiously. Despite Selina’s presence at his side he could almost feel the cold stares of the women upon him, their fear and uncertainty palpable.
‘Grandmother!’
Selina slipped away from him and the place where her hand had rested on his arm felt suddenly cold. She had held it there for mere minutes, and yet he felt a curious sense of loss at the withdrawal of her touch. Edward pulled his coat closer about himself, shrugging off the uncanny sensation. He must be getting tired... His mind was beginning to play tricks on him.
Selina was in the arms of an old woman, being folded into a fierce embrace. The woman was small and frail-looking, but with a similarity around the cheekbones that suggested a family connection. The embrace ended and the two began to talk. He heard the rise and fall of their voices, soft at first, but swelling to such a pitch that the neighbouring Roma glanced across in concern.
He thought he saw the glint of tears on Selina’s face, shining like rubies in the light of the fire, and turned away. You shouldn’t be here, he warned himself. You’ve played your part. Selina and her grandmother evidently had much to discuss, and none of it his business. He should enquire as to whether he could be of any further assistance and then leave these people in peace.
‘Mr Fulbrooke?’ Selina stood close to him, her fingers working in apprehension. The fire lit up one side of her face, making flames dance in one jet iris while throwing the other into shadow. ‘My grandmother told me what happened, and what you did to help us. We are so grateful.’
Edward smiled. ‘It was a pleasure.’ The tears had gone, he saw: she’d rubbed them away with the back of her hand when she’d seen him looking. There was softness under her tough facade, he was sure. Why was she so determined that he not see it?
‘We are forever in your debt.’
‘There is no debt, Miss Agres.’ He shook his head. ‘You were kind to my sister when she was in need and I’ve just shown the same kindness to you and yours.’
Selina nodded, although Edward saw unhappiness in the lovely oval of her face. The sight niggled at him, creating an uncomfortable feeling of concern that took him by surprise. ‘Has something else occurred?’ he asked.
‘Something else?’
‘You were so relieved before we arrived in camp. Now you’ve spoken with your grandmother and you seem distressed again. What