“Hmm . . .” He searched his memory for a time he might have crossed paths with her when she was in London. If he had seen her there, she would have caught his attention just as she had today, but in the crush of the London crowds, it was possible they’d passed each other without knowing.
“Which friends are you visiting? I may know them.” They came into view of his home. The small steward’s cottage was empty this week because Mr. Chelton was in Yorkshire looking over sheep to purchase and bring down to raise on the land.
“Perhaps you do, but I’m afraid I cannot say who.” She shot him an apologetic look. “I am sorry, I’m rather cryptic, aren’t I?”
“No, I apologize for prying. You may leave your horse to rest in the stables.” He waved down a groom. “Timothy, I am taking Miss Talley to my cottage for tea. Please see that her horse is well cared for.” He nodded meaningfully at the young man, who seemed to understand that he didn’t wish to be addressed as “my lord.”
“Er . . . yes, sir.”
“Thank you.” Peregrine then turned his attention back to Sabrina. “This way.” They walked into the cozy little cottage, and he hastened to the kitchen, where he lit the stove and set a kettle on it. Years of living relatively poor had taught him some of the more basic skills that a rich aristocrat might not have.
Sabrina joined him in the kitchen and smiled. “You know how to prepare tea? Most men—”
“Are not bachelors who have learned to fend for themselves.” He winked at her. “I not only boil water and steep tea, but I know quite a few other things as well.”
“Well, I am impressed. My older brother grew up in much the same situation as you and fared far worse. He never quite understood that he ought to learn to care for himself once we were no longer able to afford servants.”
“Let me guess, you were the one who cared for him?”
Melancholy shadowed her brown eyes, and it tugged at him, that sense that he knew her somehow. He prepared the tea, and they settled into chairs in the drawing room.
“So you work here? For the lord of the manor house?” she asked as she settled deeper into the cozy armchair. The mud was drying upon her riding habit and flaking to the floor in little patches of brown dirt at her feet. He would have to send a maid from the house to clean it up before Chelton got back.
“I do work here.” Though it wasn’t completely a lie, it still felt dishonest, and he hated it. But he knew that the moment she learned he was an earl, it would change everything between them. He simply wanted to be himself with at least one person.
“Do you like it? The work, I mean.”
“Yes, though truth be told, there isn’t much. I am not used to being so idle.”
“I understand the feeling.” She looked toward the small bookshelf, and her eyes lit up. “Do you enjoy reading?”
“Yes, there’s no greater joy than what can be found in the pages of a good book. But don’t let anyone else know I said that. Bachelors are supposed to have other hobbies, ones more prone to vices.” He stood and walked over to the shelf. It was a poor quantity of books, the shelf barely half full, but he knew Chelton was a voracious reader like himself. When the steward returned from Yorkshire, he would insist the man take as many volumes from Ashbridge’s library as he wished.
Sabrina removed one of the books from the shelf and flipped through the pages. Her eyes lit up with delight. “Ivanhoe.”
“‘I have sought but a kindred spirit to share it, and I have found such in thee,’” he quoted.
Her cheeks pinkened. “My favorite was always, ‘Chivalry!—why, maiden, she is the nurse of pure and high affection—the stay of the oppressed, the redresser of grievances, the curb of the power of the tyrant—Nobility were but an empty name without her, and liberty finds the best protection in her lance and her sword.’”
He gently took the tome from her as he studied it himself. “You are a reader too?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “It helped to pass the time when . . .” She trailed off. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Why not?”
“I . . . I am hesitant to say, but seeing as you also have an occupation, surely you will not begrudge me mine.”
“Begrudge you working? Of course not.”
Relief softened her features. “I am a governess for a darling child.”
“A worthy appointment,” he said and nodded at her empty cup. “More tea?”
“Yes, please.” She followed him into the kitchen, where they each prepared another cup of tea.
“You don’t think it’s a silly profession?” she asked.
“No, I do not. I know those who laugh at governesses, or complain about them bitterly, but it is usually not the fault of the governess for a mismatched pairing with a pupil. Most governesses are very bright women who care about their charges. It is unfair to color them any other way than courageous.”
“That is such a good thing to hear,” Sabrina said. “I came from a gentle-born family, but after my parents died . . . Well, my brother was not gifted in managing our wealth, nor was he clever in creating new wealth.”
“Ah yes, and by virtue of birth, you, the sensible and clever child, were relegated to obeying him simply because you are female. Such nonsense. Women can be as good or as bad as men in wealth management.”
“I quite agree.”
“So you left your brother’s home and sought your own fortune?”
“Exactly.”
“I am sorry to have asked you here, then. As a gentle-born woman, surely you worry about your reputation, being seen alone with a bachelor such as me?”
“No one knows I am here, and you’ve been so very kind. Would you mind overmuch if I came again soon?”
“I would be glad for it, if you don’t mind the risk.”
Her melancholy smile tugged at him. “I do not mind. There is so little left to protect that it hardly matters.”
Peregrine wondered what she meant, but he didn’t ask, lest it give her more pain.
She looked toward the clock on the mantel. “Heavens, is that the time?”
“Yes, I believe so.”
“Oh, I must go! I’m so very sorry!” She set her teacup down and rushed toward the door. He followed her to the stables and saw that she mounted up safely.
Then he stood in the doorway of the stables, watching her ride away. It felt as though some part of him had been tucked into the folds of her riding habit and carried away with her.
Who was Sabrina Talley? It didn’t escape his notice that two women in eight months had caught his eye, and yet he knew so little of them both.
8
Sabrina was still an utter mess by the time she and Celeste arrived at Mr. Russell’s country manor house. She was covered in dried splatters of mud, which would have to be washed, and she was already succumbing to her sense of guilt.
Mr. Lennox had spent a small fortune on her wardrobe when he’d first engaged her as Isla’s governess, so much so that the modiste had raised a brow when she’d confirmed with her that all the gowns must also be suitable for a governess and were to be gowns that Sabrina could get into and out of without a maid’s assistance. And while the wardrobe was indeed practical, the cuts and fabrics were both fine and elegant, including the dirty red velvet riding habit she currently wore.