Miss Bradshaw's Bought Betrothal. Virginia Heath

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СКАЧАТЬ she was now at one with nature, Evie decided to wade through it rather than find a way around it. Except, the moment her toes came into contact with the refreshing water, she could not find the motivation to move from that perfect spot.

      As a child she remembered paddling in the sea on a trip to Brighton and that memory took her back to happier times when there had just been Evie and her parents. Mama was in fine health, laughing and holding her hand, and Papa was threatening to splash them both. How long ago had that been? Too long, she realised with a jolt. Almost fifteen years since she had enjoyed the joyous pleasure that came from simply splashing in the water.

      On a whim, Evie tossed her bonnet basket back on to the bank and then bent down to knot her skirt above her knees. This afternoon, she would splash again. Simply because she could.

      * * *

      Finn was seething as he crested the hill, an emotion that he did not experience often but one that his brother almost always managed to rouse. Why did Fergus always do exactly as he wanted without any thought to the consequences? And how wonderful must it feel to selfishly skip through life without the burden of even a modicum of guilt for the chaos that you left in your wake? Once again Fergus had made a mess and left Finn to clear it up. What he expected him to do with his new fiancée, Finn had no clue. The small, loyal part of him wanted to make excuses for his brother, but his conscience would never allow that. It would be the kindest thing all around if he told her the truth. Yes, it would break her heart in the short term, but in the long term she would be spared the awful reality of being shackled to Fergus for all eternity. Nobody deserved that. The sooner he appraised Miss Bradshaw of the truth, the better. With her gone, life would return to normal and he would have peace and quiet again.

      Horatio, his favourite horse, meandered towards the stream. They usually stopped there on their way back from the village so that the old boy could take a drink and a rest, and despite his bad mood, Finn could not quite bring himself to deprive the animal of that tiny pleasure. It was hardly Horatio’s fault that Finn’s brother was a scoundrel of the first order. Besides, the longer it took him to get back to Matlock House, the longer he could delay having to tell his brother’s future bride that the reliably unreliable Fergus had disappeared.

      But as they got to the stream, fate decided that the bad news could not be put off any longer. Miss Bradshaw was there. Not that she had seen him yet, which was no surprise since she had her back to him again. Finn would have called to her, but she was having far too much fun kicking water into the air like a child. Despite his foul mood, there was something sweet and arresting in the sight of her so easily content which made him pause and simply watch her. Her ugly dress was hoisted above her knees to keep it out of the water. She had managed to get it soaked regardless, so it clung heavily to her shapely legs as she dragged her feet aimlessly through the water.

      Finn quietly slid off of his horse and began to walk towards her. As he got closer it became apparent that Miss Bradshaw was also singing—although her voice and choice of song were surprising. For a woman who squeaked and blushed at everything, that voice was surprisingly strong and earthy as she sung some song about a highwayman who was wooing two women simultaneously. If she had of been a tavern wench as he had first thought, that voice, like her figure, would earn her a small fortune.

      She must have heard him because she suddenly stopped and whipped her head around. A cheerful yellow dandelion hung listlessly from her hair and her mouth formed an ‘o’ of surprise at being caught. Thanks to the open buttons, Finn got to witness the ferocious blush as it spread up her neck and bloomed over her face, and found himself inexplicably charmed by the sight.

      ‘Lord Finnegan!’ Her hand came up to her throat and denied him the view of the hint of cleavage he had spotted under the blush, and then as an afterthought, she snatched the lolling flower from her hair and held it limply in her hand. ‘I was heading to the inn to see Fergus.’

      ‘Then I shall save you the journey. He’s not there.’

      Miss Bradshaw bent slightly and wrestled with the wet knot in her skirts and the hint of cleavage came back into view, reminding him that he was a man and that he had not seen that particular part of a female in a while. Finn felt a pang of guilt at the temptation to stare and forced his eyes to focus on the top of her head.

      ‘Perhaps he has headed to Matlock House and you missed him.’ The knot was finally worked free and her heavy skirt fell back to her ankles and floated on the top of the water.

      ‘He is gone, Miss Bradshaw. He apparently left first thing this morning.’

      She stared back at him in shock. ‘Gone where?’

      ‘He left you a letter which I have in my saddle bag. I dare say that might give us some clue as to his destination.’ Finn gestured back to his horse with a shrug and then started back along the bank to fetch it. Miss Bradshaw followed, although she chose to still wade parallel through the stream, apparently oblivious to the fact that her petticoats were now absorbing it.

      When he handed it to her, she hastily broke the seal and scanned the contents with a look of pure irritation, then refolded it and stuffed it into a hidden pocket in her skirt. ‘He says that he has gone further north, but does not state how long for or why he has gone there.’

      Which left Finn with an uncomfortable dilemma. Should he tell her what he suspected or pretend that Fergus would return presently? In the end, lying seemed futile. He owed Fergus nothing and the very last thing he wanted was a pair of uninvited houseguests for a prolonged period of time. ‘Did you give him any money, Miss Bradshaw?’

      Her eyes widened and he realised that they were quite an unusual shade of brown. The golden flecks in the irises gave them a feline quality. ‘I did give him a little.’

      ‘How much did you give him?’ Because that dictated how long he would leave the poor girl stranded. Fergus got through money as though it was going out of fashion.

      ‘Oh, dear.’ She stared down at the dandelion in her hand and Finn experienced a trickle of unease.

      ‘How much?’

      ‘A thousand pounds.’

      ‘A thousand! Are you mad? Fergus will only gamble it away.’

      Her dark eyebrows came together and her plump lips flattened. ‘At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do.’

      ‘Well, congratulations, Miss Bradshaw. With a thousand pounds in his pocket, I doubt you will see your beloved for months.’

      She took this news remarkably well. ‘He will have lost it all in a few weeks, not months. Fergus is not a particularly talented gambler.’

      Which begged the obvious question. ‘If you knew that, why on earth would you give him the money?’

      She turned away from him then and idly swished her foot from side to side in the water. ‘He is my fiancé and it is only money.’

      ‘But it is your money, Miss Bradshaw, and you seem to be forgetting the fact that he has dumped you in my house and then abandoned you as if you are of no consequence while he goes off to spend it.’ Harsh words, but the truth none the less.

      She was quiet for a long time, aside from the incessant swishing of her foot as she stared off into the distance, and then he watched her inhale slowly and straighten her shoulders. ‘I suppose this all appears a trifle odd from where you are standing, Lord Finnegan, but it is what it is and I shall make the best of it.’

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